Surprise jolts me. “Excuse me?”

“That’s why your mother was so eager for me to take you in, right?”

“No! I’m not pregnant.”

Aunt Veronica eyes me again. “You don’t look like you have a drug problem.”

“No...That’s Nicole...”

Aunt Veronica sighs. “Then why did you get kicked out of your house?”

I fidget. “My dad—He, um, doesn’t—”

The sound of a car traveling at breakneck speed cuts through the calm of the early morning. The ducks all cry out. The smallest of the trio, a white one with a black stripe down the back of its head, smacks into the greenhouse in a confused flurry of action.

The cause of the disturbance—a red Corvette—zips down the road I turned off to get to my great aunt’s house. It reaches the end and takes a right. The Corvette doesn’t get far when a police car appears out of nowhere and flips on its lights. In an instant, the Corvette’s driver slows and pulls over on the side of the road.

Just then, Aunt Veronica jumps up; a megaphone she had under her chair clamped in her left hand. “Oh, come now!” she shouts into the megaphone, and her voice carries over the short distance from her porch to the road. “Run that ugly piece of shit like you always do. Why’re you scared, you son of a bitch?”

The police officer scrambles out of his vehicle and faces Aunt Veronica. He cups his hands around his mouth. “That’s enough, Mrs. Allen. I can handle it from here,” he calls. He turns away just as a teenager no older than seventeen exits the Corvette.

“You’d better, Jim,” Aunt Veronica says still through the megaphone. “I’m sick and tired of his entitled ass disturbing the peace and quiet.”

The police officer doesn’t react and continues to speak to the teen.

Aunt Veronica turns off the megaphone and places it under her rocking chair. She grins at me and looks every bit the bitch my father lamented about. “That’ll teach that bastard, Teri Terry. If not...Well, next time I won’t bother with the police.”

I mouth “Teri Terry” to myself. I can’t believe someone’s parents would be cruel enough to name their child that. What kind of people live in Derbinwood?

Aunt Veronica chuckles. “Oh, yeah, that’s his real name. He’s the youngest of five, and, honestly, I’m not surprised his parents couldn’t come up with a better name. They’re the most brainless people I know.” She smirks. “Next to your father.”

Anger flushes my cheeks red. How dare my great aunt? At least my father made something of himself. He isn’t going to die in a one-horse town like—

My thoughts come to a painful halt. Why do I feel compelled to defend a man who abandoned me merely because I want to change the direction of my life? My father doesn’t deserve my devotion when he so easily threw me to the wolves.

My great aunt nods like she heard my internal monologue. She points at the front door. “I need a drink.”

She goes inside. I take three deep breaths before following her. I step into a dining room that spills into the kitchen. To my right, a set of closed glass doors display a well-decorated living room. A few short feet from the glass doors is a set of steep stairs. On my left, an open door offers me a peek of the white-tiled bathroom.

Aunt Veronica bustles around the kitchen. From a cupboard near the sink, she retrieves two glasses. Then Aunt Veronica removes a carton of milk from the small, red refrigerator. She sets the items on the wood table in the far-left corner nestled by a window. Lastly, Aunt Veronica grabs the pan of cinnamon buns from the stovetop and places it next to the milk and glasses.

She turns to me. “You going to sit?”

As a response, I cross the weathered wood floor and take the chair in front of the window. Aunt Veronica sits on the opposite side and pours us both a tall glass of milk. Afterward, she offers me a cinnamon bun, but I decline and explain I ate at Darla’s Diner.

My great aunt shrugs as she grabs a cinnamon bun and rips off a chunk. To my surprise, Aunt Veronica dunks the pastry piece into her milk, holds it there for fifteen seconds before popping it into her mouth. She frowns when she catches me staring at her. “What?”

“Oh, just that’s...weird and all,” I lie for I figure it unwise to mention my father does the same thing with, not only cinnamon buns but all sweet pastries.

“My mother used to do it.”

The glint in Aunt Veronica’s eyes makes me wonder if my great aunt knows what I chose not to say.

The idea that Aunt Veronica may possess mindreading powers unsettles me. It reminds me of my father, and the last thing I want is to move away from one too-observant asshole to live with another.

“That’s...interesting.”

Aunt Veronica chews another milk-soaked cinnamon bun piece. “Indeed. So, back to why you’re here. Did you burn down a church?”

“No.”

“Run an underground hobo fight club?”

“No.”

“Kill someone?”

“No. No, nothing like that at all.”

“Then I don’t see why you’ve been banished to Derbinwood.”

I play with the condensation on my glass. “I, uh, pissed off my dad. He wants me to be a doctor like him, but I...I’ve decided I’d rather own a...bakery.”

I wait for my great aunt to laugh, to call me stupid. The ridicule never comes. Rather, Aunt Veronica’s face flushes as red as it did when she yelled at Teri Terry.

“He kicked you out of the house over that?”

“Yeah. He says he won’t support...” Tears welled in my eyes. I fight them back, but just barely. “I’m ruining my life, and...he doesn’t want to be part of it.”

“If you’re not an idiot, pursuing a dream won’t ruin your life.”

“It did my sister.”

Aunt Veronica shakes her head. “Your father’s behavior messed your sister up. It takes a powerful person to brush off the rare dickheadedness your father’s mastered.”

“But what if he’s right?”

My great aunt sets down the remainder of her cinnamon bun. She captures my attention and squeezes my fingers. “Don’t let him be. Only you have the power to make him choke on his awful assumptions.”

I nod, though I don’t believe Aunt Veronica. My father is hardly ever wrong. He wouldn’t be one of the best in his medical field if he wasn’t.

Aunt Veronica releases my fingers and stands. “You need sleep. Let me show you around, and then you’ll take a nap.”

I gulp down my milk as I bury my sorrow. When finished, I place my glass on the table and rise. I push in my chair and trail behind my great aunt as I’m shown the entire first floor.

A bedroom rests between the kitchen and the stairs. This is my new room. It doesn’t have an attached bathroom like Aunt Veronica’s bedroom, so I must use the first-floor bathroom that doubles as the laundry room. My great aunt expects me to keep it clean and will make me shit in the front yard if I don’t.

As Aunt Veronica shows me how to use her volatile washer, a huge all-gray tabby hops out of the tall hamper beside the machine. Its appearance startles me, and I yelp. The cat hisses at me and takes a swipe at my left calf before it flees.

Aunt Veronica chuckles. “Careful with Hoss. He’s an asshole. I’d keep your door shut. Otherwise, he’s going to piss on all your things.”

I frown. “Good to know.”

“Ah, don’t worry. He might warm up to you in a few weeks.”

“Might,” I mutter.

Aunt Veronica laughs harder and finishes her demonstration of the washer. Afterward, she warns me about the gremlin-like ghost child in the basement and wishes me sweet dreams before retiring to the living room to watch infomercials. I bring in my bags from the car, deposit them by my new bed, then change out of my traveling clothes. I drop my clothes on the floor and go to the bathroom.

I remain in the bathroom longer than anticipated. I didn’t shut my bedroom door when I left and instantly regret it. The room reeks of cat piss, and my white blouse has turned a deep yellow color.

“Oh, you rotten beast!”

Aunt Veronica chortles. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

I gather my soiled laundry. “Damned brat should know better,” I mutter.

“Bitching isn’t going to take care of the mess.”

Great. Not only is my new roommate a mind reader, but she has the hearing of a bat.

I sigh. Oh, yeah, I’m going to have so much fun in Derbinwood.