letting Cat look like this? Do this to herself?
Chelsea and her mother hadn’t seemed too disturbed by Cat’s appearance. Maybe it was a girl thing. He was definitely out of his league with girl things, so he let his worry over this girl—his daughter—and her wild appearance go for the moment.
He didn’t know what to say to her. What had come so easily for Chelsea and Moira didn’t come easily for him. The two of them sat on the front porch swing, miserably not speaking.
“Guess you were surprised about me,” Cat said.
Gage nodded. “It’s a good surprise, though.”
Cat shook her head. “No, it’s not. Mom says you’re just an itin…itin—”
“Itinerant,” Gage supplied, thinking that sounded like something Leslie would say.
“Itinerant cowboy,” Cat said with a nod, “and that you’ve never had two nickels to rub together because you can’t keep a job. She said when you were together, you made mashed potatoes with water in them instead of milk because you were so poor.”
He scratched the back of his neck, thinking that Leslie hadn’t managed to spare him. But maybe he didn’t deserve any sparing. “That’s all true, pretty much, though I do have two nickels.”
Cat didn’t seem impressed. “How long am I staying here?”
He shrugged. “I guess until school starts. You like your school, right?”
“I don’t know. The kids are weird.”
Gage sighed, thinking his daughter wasn’t doing a whole lot to fit in. In that, she was like him. “You want to know about this side of the family?”
“No,” Cat stated. “I’m not going to see you again after August. I’ll never meet your family. So I don’t care.”
It was true she wouldn’t meet the family. Gage generally stayed as far away from them as he could, leaving his sister and two brothers to run Phillips, Inc., in Hell’s Colony. He wasn’t cut out for politics, or family debates. “Well, it’ll make good storytelling, since we’re both bored.”
“I could go back in and talk to the Weirdos,” Cat offered. “Except I think I heard them talking about whipping up some dinner. The old lady mentioned something about dog legs and bat wool.” She shivered.
Gage laughed. “Sounds delicious.”
“I think you should throw them out.”
“That old lady, Mrs. Myers, gave you a pair of pretty birds. Cut her a break.”
Cat sighed. “I guess that was kinda cool. Anyway, I guess you want to bore me to death with your family skeletons. Mom says you’ve got such a closetful of ’em that Dracula would be impressed.”
Jeez, Leslie. “Okay, there’s your uncle Shaman.”
“Weird name.”
Gage decided weird was one of his daughter’s favorite words. “Shaman’s two years younger than me. He’s in the military, been in since college. In high school, the girls were crazy for him because he was definitely anti-authority, anti-establishment. In other words, he was a hell-raiser—although, strangely, he graduated valedictorian.” Gage laughed, still proud of his brother. “He’s probably my favorite sibling, but I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Because you’re on the road all the time, shifting from place to place.” Cat nodded, obviously repeating her mother’s side of the story.
“Then there’s Kendall. She’s two years younger than Shaman, and four years younger than me. Kendall is twins with Xavier. He goes by Xav.”
“They’re the ones who run the family business. Mom says they’ve got more money than King Midas, and that you got kicked out of the business because you were too bone-idle to help run it.” Cat looked at her father. “Why are you so lazy?”
“Because,” Gage said, ruffling his daughter’s hair—the side of her head that had hair, “I’m an itinerant cowboy, and that’s what we do. Let’s go check on Mrs. and Miss Myers. They might need help.”
Cat padded after him into the kitchen, her black-checked tennis shoes not making a sound.
“We’re going into town to get some ice cream,” he said. “Anybody want to join us? What is that?” he asked, staring at the two-tier confection on the kitchen counter that Mrs. Myers was frosting.
“This is dessert for people who eat their dinner and put away their dishes,” Moira said. “It’s coconut cake. My own mother’s recipe.”
“It smells wonderful.” Gage’s mouth began watering.
“It is.” Chelsea took the spreading knife from her mother and handed it to Cat. “You finish the frosting, Cat.”
The teen looked at the cake uncertainly. “I can’t. I don’t know how. It’s just a stupid cake, anyway.” She tried to hand the spreader back to Moira, who shook her head.
“There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, love,” the woman said. “Go on, nice and easy. And when you’re finished, please sprinkle these coconut bits on top.”
Moira turned away to do something at the sink. Chelsea peered into the fridge, monitoring the contents, not paying any attention to Cat. Cat looked at her father, a question in her big brown eyes. He nodded, and she took a deep breath, reaching out to place some frosting on the cake.
“It tore,” she said. “I can’t do this! It’s a stupid—”
Moira took her hand, gently showing her how to spread the frosting in a smooth, gliding motion that didn’t disturb the cake. Then she turned back to the sink, and after a moment, Cat tried again.
The frosting went on like it was supposed to, and Cat applied herself more diligently to the task, silent for the moment. Gage’s breath released from his chest, though he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it.
“Gage,” Chelsea said, “we’re going to need some things from the grocery, now that there are four of us. I’ll make a list, if you’d like to do the shopping.”
“I can do that,” he agreed, glad to be given an assignment. “I’ll pay for the groceries, if you’re going to be kind enough to fix meals.”
“We’re going to have pot roast and…” She glanced at Gage. “I forgot you’re a vegetarian. You’ll have to pick up the veggies and things you like to eat.”
Cat stared at her father. “You’re a vegetarian? That’s weird.”
Gage shook his head, having heard weird one too many times today. “I’ll take care of the groceries, Chelsea. Thank you both for cooking for us. Come with me, Cat. You and I will start clearing out the barn.”
“I don’t want to—” she said, putting down the spreader and following her father.
“I know,” Gage said. “It’s weird. But
