Page 62 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
“Twice before.” The tree’s gaze bounced between the box and the lighthouse behind her. “She likes gifts. This will make her smile.”
“Do you like pizza?”
“Me? I wonder.”
“Do you eat?”
“I can, but I don’t need to. My roots delve deep.” She waved a hand between them. “I would rather feed you. Are you hungry? Because dinner might be late tonight.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I think so.” Zuzu whispered, “Fumiko is unhappy, and Juuyu is unhappy. But I don’t understand why, and that makes me unhappy.”
Akira was astonished. “Juuyu is here?”
“Since a little past midday. He asked if you were here, and then he went in the front door.”
“Oh, no.”
“And he stopped. And he stares.” Zuzu fidgeted. “He seems displeased, and Fumiko has been crying.”
Pushing the pizza box into her hands, Akira said, “I understand. I can help.”
“Is he angry? Sister thinks he’s angry.”
“No. Far from it.” Akira was already backing toward the lighthouse. “In a weird way, Juuyu is hugely, ridiculously happy.”
And that was bad.
TWENTY-TWO
Feast for the Senses
Juuyu took one step to the side and fixed his full attention on a rolling rack of coffee cups. No two were alike, so he needed longer than usual to memorize each pattern and its placement.
“Did you need a cup?” asked Fumiko. “You cna borrow one. These are for everyone to use. I keep the special ones upstairs.”
So there were more? Why would anyone scatter a collection of like items?
“Ooo!” Fumiko reached past him, plucking a small cup from the shelf. “I was looking for this one.”
Juuyu spared her a glance as she disappeared up the clogged stairway, moderately frustrated by the sudden removal. He knew he’d be searching for it later, and who knew where she might have hidden it. Still, he made a mental note of the small, white cup with its pink interior, a single strawberry decorating its front. The size suggested that it was intended for a child’s use.
Although there were some interesting items strewn in that direction, Juuyu forced himself to focus on the cart again. An organized approach was required. One section at a time.
Fumiko returned, slightly breathless, to hover at his elbow.
Juuyu asked, “May I move things?”
“Do you think it’s necessary?”
“Increasingly so.” His fingers twitched to sort these piles.
“As long as you’re careful.”
His attention leapt to a freestanding cabinet with glass doors. Unlike the collection of cups, the contents of these shelves were randomized. Yet pertinent to the function of the room, where the enclave members clearly gathered for meals and for conversation.
Board games. Cookbooks. Jigsaw puzzles.
