Down on Love by Jayne Denker Read Free Book Online Page B

every five minutes? Doesn’t mean you have to bring your work home with you. Keep it in the garage. Hose yourself off in the driveway, if you have to.”
    Sera grunted and turned away to make some toast. She pulled a couple of slices of bread out of the plastic sleeve, scattering crumbs on the counter. George knew they’d stay there unless she cleaned them up.
    “You look awful,” Sera commented as she pushed down on the toaster handle.
    “You didn’t tell me Amelia’s on European time.”
    “What time did she wake up?”
    “I couldn’t see the clock. It was dark.”
    “Pre-dawn’s her favorite time of day.”
    “And midnight. And two AM . And three-thirty . . .”
    “Yeah, she’s not big on the whole ‘sleep’ thing. Didn’t I mention that?”
    “You also didn’t tell me about the orange poop. Is that normal?”
    “When she has sweet potatoes for dinner the night before, sure.”
    “And how often does she eat those? I’m just trying to brace myself, here.”
    “Pretty often; she needs the fiber.”
    “Really? Because from what I saw this morning, I’d have to disagree with you.”
    George picked up the box of rice cereal to make more, but Sera stopped her. “She’s kind of off rice cereal. Try some peanut butter toast—just cut it into strips she can pick up.”
    “I’m surprised you’re not worried about peanut allergies.”
    “Pfft. My kid can eat anything. Runs in the family, doesn’t it? After all, you and I used to eat mud.”
    “And you still do.”
    Sera actually smiled. Maybe, George thought, her sister’s behavior the previous day was just a rare mood. She hoped, anyway.
    George stole one of the slices of toast when they popped up. “Well, I don’t care what you say. This place needs a cleaning—no, a scouring. No, a major disinfecting. Maybe with a flamethrower. I haven’t decided yet. Anyway, no arguing. Just go off to your studio and leave me and Amelia to it.”
    “No bleach fumes around her.”
    “How can you be so overprotective of your kid and yet let her live in squalor? It’s massively contradictory.”
    Sera buttered the single slice of toast vigorously and tossed it onto a plate. “Stop judging, Georgiana.”
    “I’m not judging, Serafina.” George always had an inkling their parents chose their multi-syllabic first names as if to compensate for the blandness of their last name. As much bang for the buck as possible, it seemed. In any case, they almost never used them unless they were in lecture mode, imitating their mother.
    “Yes, you are.”
    “Okay. I am. But only because you deserve it.”
    Sera’s scowl reappeared. “Do you ever filter?”
    “Not if I can help it.” George had spent too many years with Thom walking on eggshells, editing herself before speaking or acting; now delicacy was no longer in her repertoire—by choice.
    “You’re going to make some lucky man really, really miserable someday.”
    George put the toast strips in front of Amelia, then peeked in the broom closet. “How old is this mop? No, wait—don’t answer that. I think I recognize it from when I cleaned this kitchen when I was sixteen.”
    “So go buy another one. Take Amelia. She loves to greet her public from her stroller.”
    “You’d let me out of the house alone? With the baby? On my first day?”
    “Hm. Good point. Let me take some breakfast up to Jaz and put some clothes on. I’ll go with you.”
     
    “Morning, Casey.”
    “Hi, Ray.”
    “How’s things?”
    Casey started to answer, but then realized Ray wasn’t really listening. Instead, his glance was darting between his customer and his lone print shop employee. Celia blushed, and Casey felt his face grow warm as well. God, he hated this. He was going to have to look into taking his business elsewhere, probably online, since Ray’s was the only copy and print place in town. For now, he attempted a smile that was friendly but not fraught with meaning, no matter how hard Ray was trying to find