Adam returns home three days later; his mother on the quick road to recovery. Before his arrival, Crystal calls me and asks for help getting the house back in order. At first, I want to refuse. I still feel out of sorts about the kiss Crystal regretted, and I don’t think it wise to show my face. I don’t want to risk crying or saying something idiotic.

Then Aunt Veronica sticks her head in my room and demands to know when my lazy ass will get out of the house. That decides me, and I get ready for work. I swear I see my great aunt smile at me before I leave.

During the trip to the Kings’, my mind whirls. What if the situation gets so awkward, I quit, or the Kings fire me? Despite the hell Jenna put me through, I enjoy housekeeping. The job keeps me busy, but not so much I ever grow overwhelmed. Most days, I hardly have to focus on the tasks to complete them and instead think about new recipes or questions I’ll ask Tyson at the next cooking class. If I must change professions, will I still have that luxury?

At the Kings’ house, I swallow my apprehension and go inside; convinced I can handle whatever happens. Crystal greets me with a warm smile and swears she’s gotten over most of the initial sadness of Jenna’s leaving. Crystal does look in a better state, and though I want to discuss the kiss, it’s easier than I feared to ignore it and go on as if nothing odd occurred between us.

As we finish cleaning, Adam arrives, and life falls back into a familiar routine.

***

Without Jenna, I don’t dread work and relax further around the Kings. We speak more often, and I come to think of them both as friends. Occasionally, I can’t help wondering about the kiss, but I don’t let it dampen my mood. The Kings make it clear they want nothing more than friendship from me.

Or that’s what I believe until the middle of October, and I start to notice them watching me more. When they catch me staring, they look away. Often Crystal will start and stop a conversation, then giggle nonstop until she leaves the room. Adam has returned to finding an excuse to touch me whenever we speak. More than once, they invite me out for drinks after work.

I never take them up on their offers, not because I don’t want to but because I worry I’ve read too much into their actions. All sense points to the Kings flirting with me, but I don’t trust my assumptions. I want their romantic attention, so maybe I’m making it up. I’m pathetic enough to create a fantasy.

***

The Wednesday before Halloween, I sit out on the back patio with Crystal. Crystal skipped work for a dentist appointment, and after she returned, convinced me to forgo my duties to help her finalize the plans for the Kings’ upcoming Halloween party. We order Chinese food and spend more time joking around than talking about the party.

“By the end, Mr. Mavenrick’s beard looked like a chopped salad,” I say, regaling Crystal with a tale from last week’s cooking class.

Crystal shakes her head as she spears a piece of broccoli. “No one said anything to the poor man?”

“It didn’t matter. As soon as he removed one food item, three more took its place.” I smile. “At least he had a sense of humor about it.”

“You’d have to if you were that messy.” Just then, a piece of beef tumbles off Crystal’s fork and down the front of her expensive shirt. She groans. “Speaking of which...”

I hand her a handful of napkins. Crystal thanks me and wipes at the sauce trail. It helps, but the shirt needs serious care or else the stain will become permanent.

“Can I throw that in the wash for you?”

Crystal sighs. “You know, I’d like to get through one meal without needing a bib.” She shimmies out of her shirt, and I glance away. The tank top Crystal wears underneath hugs her subtle curves, and the pastel shade makes her skin glow. “I appreciate it.”

I take the shirt. “No problem.”

I dash into the house and toss the shirt in with the clothes I planned to start before I played hooky with Crystal. I take my time starting the load, then walk at a snail’s pace back to the patio.

Crystal’s cheeks look flushed when I approach. Her eyes won’t meet mine. “You take such good care of me.”

I reclaim my seat and pick at my sesame chicken. “Well, I, uh, like to.”

“Yeah...” The silence stretches for a minute before Crystal focuses on me, wearing a giant smile. “Hey, are you busy this weekend?”

“Besides setting up for your party, no.”

Crystal shakes her head. “Oh, no. You’re not doing that.”

“I’m pretty good at it...”

“I can’t have my guests doing that.”

I pause poking my food. “Guests?”

Crystal nods. “Adam and I want you to come and have fun.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Crystal studies me. “I have a couple of costumes you could fit into.”

“You just keep a number on hand?”

Crystal smirks. “They serve multiple purposes.”

I blush. “Uh...” I bury my attention in my food.

Crystal laughs. “So, will you attend?”

“Yeah, sure.”

***

My cheeks still feel hot when I return to Aunt Veronica’s later in the day, and I completely ignore the unfamiliar car in the driveway. I can’t stop thinking about Crystal in cute outfits, and more than once I even envision Adam in a costume. I tell myself to ignore my thoughts, but the more I try, the more vivid they get. By the time I’m standing at the front door my underwear is soaked, and not for the first time since taking notice of my attraction to the Kings, I need to do more than wash in the shower.

“Hey, I’m taking a shower,” I call as I approach the bathroom.

“How about you hold off on that for a minute?” Aunt Veronica responds. “You need to come into the kitchen.”

I sigh but comply. If I don’t, my great aunt will stand outside the door while I bathe and talk nonstop. Also, if Aunt Veronica suspects I crave alone time (though I pray my great aunt never knows when I’m horny), she might bother me until I go to bed.

Aunt Veronica sits at the kitchen table and faces me. A second person accompanies her but has their back turned. No folders cover the table, and Aunt Veronica doesn’t look too pleased with her guest.

I move faster toward the kitchen. Maybe an old, disgruntled client has dropped in and holds Aunt Veronica hostage. I glance around for an item suitable to defend myself and Aunt Veronica if it comes to that. The only noteworthy object I spot is the butter dish on the counter across from the refrigerator. I reach for it as I pass.

Aunt Veronica frowns. “What are you doing?”

I push the butter dish away. “Nothing. Um, what do you want?”

Aunt Veronica gestures for me to get closer. “You need to say hello to our new housemate.”

I scramble to the table; my thoughts spinning. A new housemate? My great aunt hasn’t hinted someone will move in. “I wish you would have told m—”

The breath catches in my throat as I spy the newcomer, a woman in her late twenties. She hasn’t bathed in days if not weeks. She smells sour, and dirt clings to her gaunt face and too-thin arms. The woman’s dark brown hair hangs in uneven strips, and circles so prominent they look drawn on ring her green eyes—the only trait she inherited from our mother.

“Oh, Nicole...”

The words tumble out of me and carry the full weight of my surprised pity and deep-rooted disgust. My sister looks like a warm corpse, almost unrecognizable, and I have trouble believing this ghost used to be one of my closest friends. How could Nicole do this to herself?

Nicole grimaces. “I know I’m not...well.”

I glance at Aunt Veronica. “Why would you want a druggie living here?” I point at the needle marks on Nicole’s arms. “Some of those look fresh. I bet she’s got a stash of heroin on her right now.”

Terror contorts Nicole’s sickly features. “No!” She grasps Aunt Veronica’s hands. “I swear it’s all gone. Check my car if you want.”

Aunt Veronica shakes her head. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have let you in my house if I thought you had any drugs with you.” She fixes me with a seething glare. “I expected better from you.”

“Me? Do you know how she’s lived the past eight years?”

“She can’t want to change?”

“I do,” Nicole says, and tries to smile at me, but the movement makes her appear more grotesque than ever. “I want a better life.”

I roll my eyes. “How many times have you told that to Mom?”

“I mean it this time!” Tears spill down Nicole’s cheeks. “I’ll die if I continue like this, and I don’t—I just want to get my life on track.”

“Sure.”

Aunt Veronica snaps her fingers at me. “Hey, she’s staying here. If you don’t like it, you can go.”

“But—” I groan. “What if she falls off the wagon? Or turns this place into a drug den?”

Aunt Veronica squeezes Nicole’s fingers, and then says, “It won’t happen,” with conviction so strong God would believe her.

I march out of the kitchen and to my bedroom. “You’re making a mistake,” I say before slamming my door shut.