I cough at her as he leaps up the stairs with the ease of a gazelle. “Lola!” His smile is ear to ear. “Funny meeting you here.”
“Funny that. You being on her porch and all,” Lindsey says.
“Your house?” Cricket stumbles back down the top steps and widens his eyes dramatically. “They all look so similar.”
We stare at him.
“It’s good to see you again, Lindsey,” he adds after a moment. Now there’s a touch of genuine embarrassment. “I just passed your parents’ restaurant, and it was packed. That’s great.”
“Huh,” she says.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
“I live here. Not here-here, but there-here.” He points next door. “Occasionally. On the weekends. Well, my parents told me they set up my bed, so I assume it’s a go.”
“They did. I saw them move it in yesterday,” I say, despite myself. “There still aren’t any curtains on your window,” I add, not wanting him to think that I’ve been purposefully watching his room.
One hand fiddles with the bracelets on his other. “Now, that’s a shame. Promise you won’t laugh when you see me in my underwear.”
Lindsey’s eyebrows raise.
“I cut a pathetic figure undressed,” he continues. “Dressed, too, for that matter. Or half dressed. One sock on, one sock off. Just a hat. No hat. You can stop me at any time, you know. Feel free to tell me to shut up.”
“Shut up, Cricket,” I say.
“Thanks. Did you dye your hair? Because you weren’t blond last weekend. Oh, it’s a wig, isn’t it?”
“Ye—”
“Hey, cool shoes. I’ve never seen boots that color before. Except rain boots, of course, but those aren’t rain boots.”
“No—”
The front door opens, and Andy appears in a white apron. He’s holding a flour-dusted wooden spoon as if it were an extension of his arm. “Could I persuade you ladies to sample—”
Cricket pops back onto the porch and stretches his lengthy torso between Lindsey and me to shake my dad’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Nolan. How are you?”
Lindsey mouths, What’s he been smoking?
I’m as baffled as she is. He’s like Cricket times ten.
“I’m good.” Andy glances at me, trying to determine if he should throw him off our property. I give my dad the smallest shake of my head, and he turns his attention back to Cricket. Which, frankly, would be impossible not to do, considering the sheer energy radiating off him. “And you? Still inventing mysterious and wondrous objects?”
“Ah.” Cricket hesitates. “There’s not really a market for that sort of thing these days. But I hear you’re running a successful pie operation?”
My father looks flattered that the news has spread. “I was just about to ask the girls if they’d mind testing a new pie. Would you like a slice?”
“I would love a slice.” And he springs ahead of Andy, who follows him inside.
The porch is silent. I turn to Lindsey. “What just happened?”
“Your father invited the former love of your life in for pie.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“There’s still time for an excuse,” she says. “We don’t have to go in there.”