Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,4
inconvenience—and it is an inconvenience.”
Mr. Darling shot Wendy a look over his newspaper and wiggled his eyebrows. Wendy smirked back at him and dug a bagel out of the bag on the kitchen table.
Mrs. Darling continued to complain. “And aside from all that, we still have to pick up the dog from the airport, and your father is taking the car, so we’ll have to pick Nana up on the train.”
The train? “Like … Amtrak?”
“No. The city train, and you have to come with because we can’t have Nana on a leash on the train. She has to be in a gosh darn carrier, which means I need you to help me carry the other side of the kennel.”
“If you used the CrossFit membership I got you for Christmas last year, you wouldn’t need Wendy’s help with your ‘sick lifts’ because your ‘gains’ would more than cover the weight,” Mr. Darling said, hiding his grin in the curve of his paper coffee cup.
“You can’t distract me with jokes while I’m frying eggs on a baking sheet that I had to buy this morning at a corner store, George,” Mrs. Darling snapped.
“We could just unpack the stuff ourselves,” Wendy said nonchalantly. “Then maybe, instead of supervising movers on Sunday, I can go to brunch with my fri—”
“No. We already paid for it. And you’re not going anywhere with anybody until I get to speak with their parents live and in person.” Mrs. Darling sat down and started spooning eggs onto her bagel. “I’m not going to have you get kidnapped within the first seventy-two hours we’ve been in this city.”
“But if you do get to speak with Eleanor’s parents … then I can hang out with her?” Wendy asked.
Mrs. Darling chewed and looked Wendy over. “I suppose.”
“Okay, great. I’ll work on arranging that. Also, if we’re making efforts to not have me be kidnapped, could we also work on getting my window fixed? Because it would be super ironic if I got kidnapped out of our own home—”
“Yes, fine,” Mr. Darling interrupted. “Just go upstairs and get ready to pick up Nana.”
Wendy shoved the last bite of her bagel into her mouth and went to her room. She dialed Eleanor and laid back on her bed.
“It’s ten a.m. and it’s Friday,” Eleanor said quietly, her face super close to the screen, with one of the edges of her hand blocking most of the light. “I’m literally in homeroom and we aren’t allowed to have our phones out, so make it quick.”
“Oh crap, I forgot it’s not the weekend. I probably won’t have class until next Tuesday,” Wendy said. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts. What’s up?”
“My mom said we can meet up unsupervised if she has some sort of weird conference with your parents. Do you know if they’re free any time in the next couple of days?”
“Not until Sunday,” Eleanor replied. “My parents are at work right now, then after work we’re going to some Friday night church thing. Then on Saturday we’re going apple picking before it gets too cold. Maybe Saturday night might work? I’ll ask.”
“Apple picking with your parents? Your life is so wholesome. I still can’t believe my mom’s making us go through this.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s great,” Eleanor said quickly. “I’ve gotta go. My homeroom teacher is looking directly at me and can clearly tell that I’m on the phone. Call you later.”
Eleanor hung up.
“DOES SATURDAY NIGHT WORK FOR YOU?” Wendy shouted out her open bedroom door.
“Saturday night is your father’s work party,” Mrs. Darling called up the stairs. “How is Sunday?”
“SHE SAID SHE’LL LET US KNOW,” Wendy shouted back. She chewed her lip for a bit and then continued. “THEY GO APPLE PICKING TOGETHER, YOU KNOW. THIS IS WHO YOU’RE BARRING ME FROM SEEING. A GIRL WHO GETS EXCITED TO PICK APPLES WITH HER PARENTS.”
“Are you getting ready to pick up Nana?” Mr. Darling asked. “You’ve got ten seconds to get dressed or we’re coming up. One … two…”
Wendy pushed her door closed and shoved on jeans and a sweater. She got her feet into her shoes just in time for Mr. Darling to knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Mr. Darling headed straight to her window and started jimmying the latch. “This is really broken.”
“I wouldn’t lie about my window being broken, Dad,” Wendy said dryly.
“No, I meant this is really, really broken. I don’t know if I can fix this by myself. The latch on the back of the window was pried off from the