Page 59 of Prayers for the Prickly

“Guess it’s down to me, huh?” my dad asked a few minutes later, grinning at me as he hefted the final balloon in his hand. With pinpoint accuracy, he hurled it against the center of the target, where it exploded in a shower of pink.

“That’s it, that’s all of them,” Uncle Lane declared.

“Pink, lavender, lime, yellow and aqua,” someone read back while two others with phones nodded in confirmation.

“Five colors,” Uncle Lane muttered, “now what the hell do the colors mean?”

“Lane, language,” Granny cautioned, as several others side-eyed him.

“Sorry.”

“Uh huh, you are always sorry then you slip up two seconds later and let an f-bomb,” Aunty Eunice said. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t,” Uncle Lane replied, and remained between them, looking sufficiently chastised.

“Each color represents a whelplet,” Gregor said once the intermission show was over. “As in how many little ones August is knocked up with.”

His announcement was met with stunned silence, until someone sputtered while a few others stammered and one person let out a long, low whistle.

“F-five!” Aunty Eunice squealed. “You’re having five?”

“Five Gregors?” Uncle Atlas groaned and sank down onto a bench like his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. “The renovations will never end.”

“Five?” Mom said as she leaned in to hug me. “Oh my dear, sweet boy, this is going to be delightful.”

Chapter 23

Gregor

“Have you given any thought to putting a smaller version of the corral around the nest?” Pops asked as Uncle Atlas cracked open his lunch box while the rest of the crew collected theirs from the coolers.

“August is in favor of them, so let’s go ahead and mark up the spots for the posts after we get done eating,” I replied before digging into the mini lobster rolls I’d wrapped up last night.

August had fallen in love with the spicy homemade dressing I made for them that blended mayonnaise and melted butter with lemon and Cajun seasoning. The look on his face when he’d first bitten into one had made getting squirted in the eye by a lemon worth it. Grating zest and adding it to the sauce had really elevated it. I looked forward to playing with a few other variations to see if he enjoyed them, too. Like mango in the sauce when I’d mixed up crab rolls last week. Using three kinds of crab and a garlic butter wash to brush on the inside of the rolls, I hadn’t expected them to be as big of a hit as they were, but he’d loved them and everything else I’d made him so far. I’d learn to make pasta salad, too, because he loved it, especially with bits of broccoli, onions, relish and shredded cheese. The sauce I’d made with plain yogurt, sour cream and ranch seasoning, passing on the peas I was supposed to add because August hated them. After watching him painstakingly pick every last one of them out of the shrimp with lobster sauce I’d made him, grumbling and cursing each one out, I’d omitted them from every recipe they’d showed up in after that or substituted them with diced carrots and celery, which he loved. Even cauliflower would was better than peas, since he actually asked for it from time to time.

At least August hadn’t rattled off a long list of things I could leave out of the dish in addition to peas. My brain was already compiling one to include water chestnuts. He hadn’t even said anything about them to me, either, he’d just dug them out of the lobster sauce, nudged them to the edge of the plate, and dug right back in. He’d asked for seconds, too, repeating the process with the peas and water chestnuts so he must have liked it, aside from those two components.

So far, I’d been lucky, and not served up any foods he couldn’t eat, but I’d scouted out the restaurants in the area just in case. I knew which ones were open late and I knew which ones delivered. When and if I did screw up, I had contingency plans ready, and options, in case he was craving a combination of things.

“I just sent the plans for your home model addition to your phone,” Uncle Atlas said. “I included both the star and the spiral designs. I think you’ll find that the spiral spire for the hot tub addition will fit perfectly along the back corner of the house, and offset the lighthouse perfectly, while the star-shaped office in the front left corner will give the side view its own distinct bit of charm.”

“I think you’re right about that. I’ll look at the photos after I eat, but it seems like a no brainer and August loves the idea of having the hot tub at the top of the tower, where he has the perfect view of me across the balcony at the hibachi.”

“Are we still looking to widen that by three feet and add some additional support?”

“Yes, please, I agree with what you said, about it making the space much more versatile, especially since we’re enclosing it. It’s going to be nice to open up the inside wall on both sides and make it a true extension of the space.”

“When this house becomes a tourist attraction, you make sure you keep my business cards in the basket in the entryway and pass them out to anyone who asks who did the work,” Uncle Atlas said.

“I’ll do that,” I assured him. “I might have to keep a few in my wallet, too, once people start to associate me with the house.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Uncle Atlas said. “I’ve enjoyed getting to turn this place into your dream house. Restoration is a lot more fun than building another cookie cutter house in some subdivision. I’d love to tackle more projects like this one. There are a lot of old homes in town. Come winter, I really need to put together a good advertising campaign and update the website. There are months’ worth of images that need to be uploaded and arranged on the website and I’d love to see if Olly can shoot some footage.”

“It’s a good idea,” I said. “See if he can set up a virtual tour, too, to take visitors to your website through a simulation of each restoration. It’s a little more interactive, because you can type up information explaining what process was used on the floor, or what condition something was in before you got started and then show the step-by-step photos you took as the grime was stripped away and the wood came alive again. He’d made several virtual tours for my shop as well as done mini-documentaries on some of the more intricate pieces I’ve created.”

“Yeah, let me write that down,” Uncle Atlas said.

I focused on my extremely delicious sandwiches, and on what I needed to pick up after work for tonight’s meal. I’d promised him a caramel cake with ribbons of dulce de leche dribbled over it, and I planned to make crabcakes served with deviled eggs and a side of tangy red cabbage coleslaw made with apple cider vinegar.

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