stuck his hand between her legs. “Been there, had that, wasn’t impressed.”
Piper shrieked and lashed out with her fists.
He laughed, dodging her ill-aimed blows until a kick made him move to the right and her fist found its mark in the tender flesh above his groin. All strength left his body and his knees buckled. His stomach churned, and he felt as though he would be sick.
She didn’t offer taunts or more punches. Piper bolted for the door, flung it open, and fled into the midday light, leaving Kirk groaning in pain among the shattered remains of his living room.
“Is there something wrong, Mom?” Stephen asked quietly. His voice was pitched so as to be both intimate and audible over the low, indistinct conversations of other diners around them.
Emily looked up, noted the worry in her son’s clear blue eyes, and offered a halfhearted smile. “No, honey, I’m fine.”
“You haven’t touched your lasagna.”
She set her fork onto the side of her undisturbed plate. Stephen had offered to take her out for a nice lunch since Janet was in class until late afternoon. She’d looked forward to spending time with her son, but now all she could do was think of how to keep her daughter alive. “I guess I’m not very hungry.”
Stephen pushed his empty plate aside and a passing waiter grabbed it on his way to the kitchen. He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his pursed lips, studying her. “You’re worried about Alex, aren’t you?”
She settled farther in the corner of their booth. “Of course I’m worried about her. I’m always worried about her.”
“No, this is different.” Stephen leaned forward and dropped his voice even lower. “What’s going on, Mom? I haven’t seen you this distracted in a long time.”
“I said it’s nothing.”
“Is it the Tribunal? Varik?”
“Oh, Stephen, not all of this family’s problems stem from Varik Baudelaire. In fact, he’s probably the last person who’d want to harm any of us.”
“Could’ve fooled me with the way he tried to choke me a month ago.”
“You provoked him, and you know it,” Emily scolded. “And, for Alex’s sake, until this Tribunal business is over, the less you antagonize Varik, the better.”
“Why are you always so quick to defend him? I don’t understand why I’m the only one who sees this guy is trouble.”
“Because you’re protective of Alex and you want what you think is best for her.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “But, honey, Alex is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions, and if she chooses to try and work things out with Varik, you need to step back and let her.”
Stephen slumped in his seat, arms folded across his chest, brooding and silent.
Emily scooted out of the booth and handed her purse to him. “I’m going to the little girls’ room. Watch this for me?”
He took the bag with a terse nod.
She ruffled his curls and earned a half-smile. As she navigated the maze of tables, Emily thought of the days following Bernard’s murder.
Suddenly finding herself as a single mother in 1968 with two young children had been the least of her worries. She and Bernard shared a blood-bond and when that connection was severed, she’d fallen into a deep depression.
The week immediately after Bernard died had been the worst. She’d lain in bed, unable to move, speak, or eat. Pearlie Marker, her human neighbor, and a few others had taken it upon themselves to care for Emily, as well as Stephen and Alex, and Alex had needed just as much care as Emily. The poor child had been the one to find her beloved father’s staked and beheaded body.
It was ten-year-old Stephen, however, who had taken on the bulk of Alex’s care. He made sure she received the proper amount of blood daily, even making certain the humans knew nothing of it. He read bedtime stories to her and comforted her during the night when she woke screaming for Bernard. Even though he was grieving himself, he’d taken on the mantle of “man of the house” and cared for his sister when Emily couldn’t.
Bernard’s funeral, however, was the turning point for Emily. The service had been closed casket, per Bernard’s will, and she and the children had been allowed into the chapel to say good-bye in private. Even now Emily could close her eyes and still smell the roses and lilies that draped the casket in red and white.
Stephen was stoic as he approached the sleek silver casket. Five-year-old