Chapter Text
It wasn’t, strictly speaking, proper to contact the family that gave up a child and ask them if, perhaps, they’d changed their minds, but it was probably the best chance Ms. Pentri had for the children in her care. If it blew up in her face there could be disastrous consequences for her own career given the notoriety of the family she was trying to contact. She was resolute though – the possibility of getting Dirk and Roxy to a family that could care for their… unique needs was more important.
Lalonde, as it happened, was a very recognizable name. She was well familiar with the award winning author, Rosa Lalonde, through Roxy if nothing else. The girl had been very careful to scoop up everything she had written by the woman when she escaped her previous foster home.
But that wasn’t her only connection to the name Lalonde, tenuous as it was. In fact, her personal idol was the indubitably intelligent Ruth Lalonde. After seeing her speak several times at her own Alma mater and now knowing there was a relation between the woman and one of her charges, Ms. Pentri set out to do her research.
She a charitable person to be sure. Relatively unknown outside of her niche in academia, it was difficult to get a read on her, but not impossible. She found information on how Ruth had took custody of all of her siblings following the death of their mother and the disappearance of their father. Contacting an old friend in their neck of the woods turned up information about two younger half siblings that Ruth had also taken in. An interview with Rosa Lalonde explained the decision as a decree of Ruth’s wherein all of their wayward siblings would be welcomed with open arms.
It was more than Ms. Pentri could have hoped for. She wasn’t sure of the exact relation, but resolved to try.
“Dr. Lalonde,” Calliope called, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her slacks. She was intensely uncomfortable with the press of inebriated youth around her. Her friend and boss perked up and turned, cup sloshing dangerously. Miraculously, she avoided spilling a drop. That was a talent of hers. “This isn’t exactly a place one would expect to find a doctor that’s set to give a several hour long lecture tomorrow.”
“Hey,” Ruth drawled and tried to wave her closer. “You look so cute, done up in your suit.”
“Dr. Lalonde,” Calliope sighed as Ruth laughed at her own rhyming. “We really should get you back to the hotel.”
“Spoilsport,” she jeered before turning back to the group she’d been entertaining. Loudly, she announced, “I’m sorry everyone, but I have to go. Callie’s the boss and I have work in the morning.”
The group bemoaned her departure as Calliope took in the demographic, noting Ruth was entirely too old to be swanning off into the nearest frat party intent of reliving the glory days. Not that she’d had many, busy as she was with her family. Wordlessly, she ushered her boss into the chill of the night.
Ruth hummed happily as they meandered through campus, taking in the sights with glittering pink eyes. It could have been worse, Calliope told herself. Really, Ruth seemed a lot happier when she was buzzed.
It was an excuse and she knew it.
“I love how… shiny the buildings are,” Ruth said after a moment, taking a hand from her lab coat and waving it towards the newly constructed student center. “This is good. This is… you know?”
“It’s where you want to be,” Calliope said, opting to look at her boss instead. “You really just want to stay in academia, don’t you?”
“I’m better at it,” Ruth said, seeming to turn introspective. “I’m not so good with the practical. People are… messy.”
“You picked an odd field then,” she noted. “Neuroscience is kind of all about people. Maybe you should have gone into mathematics.”
“Neuroscience is about brains, not people,” Ruth said, bizarrely omitting the fact that personhood itself came from the brain. “And physics came first, anyway.”
“You should work on another doctorate,” Calliope said, finally cracking a smile. “You seem like you’re getting bored.”
Ruth laughed lightheartedly and told her, “Well, I have been dabbling a lot in chemistry and biology. Might as well fill out those fields too.”
“Might as well,” Calliope agreed, happy to hear it. She linked arms with Ruth and then nothing would do but to try and perfect the Wizard of Oz walk on their way back to the hotel.
It was easy to herd Ruth into the room, remind her to brush her teeth, and watch her fall into bed, already mostly asleep. Hesitating over her a moment – should she move Ruth into the recovery position just in case? Her worst fear was waking to find Ruth had choked on her own vomit sometime in the night – gave Ruth enough time to groan and tell her assistant to find elsewhere to roost because she didn’t need a mother hen in her bed.
Blushing, Calliope scurried off to the other side of the room and settled at the desk to answer Ruth’d correspondence. It was late, but sleep was never easy for her. Nights made her… anxious. It had been years since she had any cause to feel that way, but…
Well, it didn’t matter. She refocused on the laptop screen while turning on the desk lamp to chase off the shadows.
The emails were all standard; the university wanted updates and other universities wanted to book lectures. There was another email confirming the details of Ruth’s TED talk which Calliope made sure to reply with an affirmative before forwarding the conversation to her private email.
(It would be going into the scrapbook Calliope was compiling of Ruth’s career highlights. It would be a wonderful Christmas present knowing how sentimental the doctor could be at times..)
There was one email from the secretary of the science department from their home university. She opened it and scanned the contents curiously before glancing over her shoulder at Ruth. She would be no help. Rosa, however, was a great deal easier to contact.
One text and less than three minutes later, Calliope’s phone began buzzing urgently. She answered, but couldn’t even get a greeting out before Rosa was already demanding answers.
“Why would the university be emailing you about our family?” she asked, voice harsh. Knowing the woman as well as Calliope did, she didn’t take it personally. Without waiting for a response, Rosa continued, “No social worker has any right to be involving Ruth’s employer in any of our family business and we’ve heard nothing from Rose and Dave’s case worker lately. It’s a gross invasion of-”
There was a noise and then another voice, deep and amused, was saying, “I’m sorry, but Rosa Lalonde is being a huge grump and cannot receive calls at the moment. You’ll have to settle for me if you like your head where it is.”
“Portia, hello!” Calliope greeted, cheered. She and Rosa’s girlfriend had a cordial relationship and it was a great deal safer talking to her than it was Rosa when family was on the line. “Please tell Rosa that it’s not about Rose or Dave. They said it was a social worker in Pennsylvania that called.”
“I’ll let her know,” Portia promised. “One moment.”
After relaying the information, Rosa was apparently deemed calm enough for conversation and the phone was returned to her person.
“What exactly did they say?” Rosa asked. “Spare no detail.”
“There aren’t really any details,” Calliope said apologetically. “Just that a… Ms. Pentri would appreciate a call back about a possible relation to two of her foster children. I can forward you the email, if you’d like.”
“Thank you, yes,” Rosa said. “I’ll look into it. No reason to worry Ruth right now.
Calliope peeked over her shoulder at the woman in question and found herself tiredly agreeing.
Rosa was displeased. If there were an exact antonym, a true polar opposite for the word pleased, that would aptly describe her mood, she thought, entirely forgetting that there was. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. Noting that her hands were shaking in poorly concealed fury, she wondered at her decision to enter a moving vehicle with the intent of operating it in her emotional condition. Not that it was truly a conscious decision as much as it was a pressing need to get out because mansion or not, the news she’d received was too much, too large to comprehend and she needed to step back and breathe and think before she could consider it.
There was one person she could count on for perspective. She pulled her phone from her pocket and found the number silently.
“Lalonde! You utter bitch!” her dubiously entitled friend crowed when she answered. “I’m in the middle of a match. Is this that fucking important?”
“Yes,” Rosa said, impatiently. “Now get the fuck off and listen to me bitch.”
“Get off?”
“Don’t make this fucking weird,” Rosa ordered.
“Fine. Where are you? Just come over.”
Rosa leaned back with a smile finally on her face. She turned the key with her free hand, car growling to life. More than happy to escape the house, she began maneuvering her car one-handedly.
“Thanks, V. I’ll see you in a bit.”
It took fifteen minutes to make it to V’s duplex on a good day. This was not a good day. It took eleven and some rather loose considerations of traffic laws. Parking on the street, she hopped out of her car and critically eyed the lovely home with the perfect garden. Clearly the other half of the duplex was still being a meek bitch and cleaning up after her homewrecking friend.
She let herself in rather than waiting for V to pull herself from her game. She circled the home, hopping their small fence easily enough, to the sliding back door. Jostling it the right way yielded an easy entry.
Rosa threw her keys on the kitchen counter before turning to properly lock up behind her. Entrance secured, she selected two of the many, many adult beverages in the fridge before ascending to the second floor where she found the bedroom door open and her friend sprawled across her king sized bed. She didn’t seem aware of Rosa’s approach.
“I’m shocked,” Rosa drawled, leaning against the door frame. “Shocked to death. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you play without screaming profanities at all of the other children playing with you.”
“Fuck off, bitch,” she grunted and then grudgingly added, “I’m customizing my character. What do you want?”
“Fuck,” she said emphatically and offered one of her selections to her best friend. After she took it, Rosa plopped on an open expanse of bed and stared at the wall as she mechanically opened her drink. “I’ve had… a hell of a day, honestly. Another of those fucking Lalonde bitches fell into bed with my shit father and I have yet another pair of half siblings.”
V laughed, as expected. She found the telenovela-esque drama endlessly amusing, the bitch.
“You’d think all of them would have gotten the message by now, wouldn’t you? When’s the bitch due?”
Rosa made a show of looking at her bare wrist as if contemplating a watch. With mock casuality, she said, “Oh, I suppose about fourteen years ago.”
That gave V pause. She froze for a moment before saving her game and turning it off. She threw the controller god knows where and then turned to face Rosa. She took up her drink and opened it. She finished it in a good two minutes and then fetched two more bottles from her bedside mini-fridge. Giving the other to Rosa, she said, “Alright, I’m ready. Lay it on me.”
Rosa finished her own drink. “Gladly.”
The next morning found Rosa sitting at her writing desk with her hands splayed over the wooden surface. Rose had already been dropped off at school under a facade of normalcy that, frankly, Rosa believed should be award winning. Perhaps she would liberate one of Dane’s many, many trophies for her own private commendation. He actively tried to lose when given the opportunity, so he would never miss one or two. It was the perfect crime. Or would be, if Ruth didn’t keep such a prideful account of all of his achievements.
The thought of Ruth, however brief, was enough to bring on the urge to indulge in one of Ruth’s favorite soothers. The fridge was, as always, well stocked with a selection that would rival many bars, but Rosa was wary about dipping her toe in that particular well of sin again. She’d had her brush with Lalondian alcoholism and she was happy to leave that in the past.
She banished those thoughts, but it still wasn’t easy to contemplate her current task, not with her phone sitting before her, number already dialed. This was probably one of the most daunting calls she would make in her life, which was a feat considering she’d acted as the family call center following the scandalous implosion that was Derek and Dave’s abuse case.
“Fuck this,” she mumbled and picked the phone up, pressing dial quickly to give herself no time to reconsider or overthink. With her free hand, she pulled over her laptop and opened a blank document that quickly covered her most recent manuscript.
“Hello, this is Claire Pentri,” a voice answered, cheerily.
“Hello,” Rosa said, startled even though she really shouldn’t have been. Of course the case worker would answer her phone. “Hello, sorry. My name is Rosa. You contacted my older sister, Ruth, about a couple of children in your care.”
“Oh, yes!” she confirmed, voice surprised. “Yes, a set of twins.”
“We want them,” Rosa blurted out. In truth, she had only been planning to set up a meeting and to get more information on the children that she could take to her siblings and discuss things at length. It was rational, but she was feeling anything but. She knew that it was the right thing to do and the thought of her young siblings wasting away in the foster system in Pennsylvania burned her up inside.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, she rushed to fill the awkward silence, “I understand it’s a process and there are a number of hoops to jump through before we can take custody, but I am prepared to use every tool at my disposal and every connection I have to help the children.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Mrs. Pentri said, a touch of humor in her voice. “But let’s start with your name first, shall we?”
“Oh! Rosa Lalonde,” she answered, embarrassed.
“The writer?” the case worker clarified, something odd about her tone.
Rosa made a sound of surprise. Writers weren’t usually very well known these days. She said, “Yes, actually. You’ve heard of me?”
“Ah, I haven’t read your works,” she confessed apologetically. “But Roxy, one of the children I emailed about, has been toting around a small collection of your works. She seems quite proud of it and cites you as her favorite author.”
“Oh,” Rosa muttered. She was glad there was no one else around to witness how her face brightened into a pleased grin, a blush coloring her cheeks. Secretly, she was very, very pleased, delighted even. “I see… Could you, ah… Could you tell me more about the kids? I spoke briefly with their birth mother earlier today, but she didn’t have anything constructive to offer.”
She had bitched Rosa out for bothering her with something so trivial, though. Rosa chose not to share that with the case worker.
“Well,” she hedged. “I know it was terribly improper for me to reach out to Ms. Lalonde like I did. I just wanted to give the children every opportunity I could. Do you understand?”
“Absolutely,” Rosa agreed. “And I know there’s not a lot you can tell a relative stranger over the phone, but… Please, even just their names.”
There was a moment of contemplative hesitation before Ms. Pentri was explaining, “They’re twins – a boy and a girl. The girl’s name is Roxy Lalonde and the boy’s is Dirk Strider. They’ve recently come into my care – very recently, in fact – after some reports of, ah… signs of neglect in Roxy’s case. Her case was reassigned to me following her previous case worker’s sudden departure from our department. She was actually the one to lead me to Dirk, who… well...”
The pause eventually stretched uncomfortably long as the case worker struggled for words. Rosa could do naught else but imagine the absolute worst. Frightened of what the answer might be, she asked, “Is it… bad?”
“Well,” she answered, still sounding very troubled. “It isn’t good.”
After exchanging goodbyes and receiving a promise that any further details would be emailed to her, Rosa elected to move her pity party of one to the living room. The move was a good decision, she found, as she had finally broke and now was happily attended to by a bottle of tequila while the infamous Jaspers in his dapper little suit trotted over.
“You’re lovely,” she told him as he meandered within petting range. “Absolutely lovely and I’m sorry that Rose keeps dressing you up in those horribly uncomfortable things. I’ve been in too many suits to wish it upon my worst enemy.”
She sighed and leaned back after snatching the remote from the coffee table. Turning on the television yielded Keeping up with the Kardashians. It was perfect background noise, she discovered as she stared at it blankly, mind a million miles away. She couldn’t fathom a child that had been left alone for years, couldn’t conceptualize a way that an entire human being slipped through the cracks and was lost for years.
Abruptly, she was overcome. Shooing Jaspers away, she set her bottle down on the table jarringly hard and collapsed in on herself, slumping forward until her head was almost level with her knees. She couldn’t even imagine how hard this would be, what with a child used to abuse and one that was only a few human connections away from being feral.
She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t be alone with her thoughts. She felt weak, but she had to have some backup in this.
Opening her contacts in her phone yielded a number of options and she considered them all as her stress slowly mounted, hating that this fell to her. For a long moment, she stared at Ruth’s name. She’d been the one to make the oath to give a home to any unwanted Strider-Lalonde lost souls. That was her promise.
But Rosa knew deep down that Ruth’s alcoholism was worsening, knew she couldn’t entrust this to someone that in all honesty probably hadn’t been sober all month.
She considered Derek’s name next. He was her twin and knew her mind intimately, but he wasn’t quite who she wanted to talk to. Derek was intense, all action all the time and this would likely be something he couldn’t just… rush. It was delicate and he was everything but.
Hesitating so long, her phone’s screen went black again.
“Fuck,” she whispered to herself. “Fuck and shit and damnation.”
Just before she threw her phone in frustration, it began ringing. The caller ID read Dane Strider.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up and tried to mentally compose herself. Answering, she set it to speakerphone so she could rest the phone on the arm of the couch and take up her bottle again. Jaspers took his chance and jumped into her lap again, purring loudly.
“Good morning, baby brother,” she greeted coolly, voice perfectly composed as if she hadn’t just been going through a bit of a crisis over an epic tale of negligence and child abuse.
“Good morning, yourself,” he returned. “Listen, I’m going to cut off the snark before you even start because I’m between meetings and have like, fifteen minutes and if I let you get going we won’t be done before the fucking sun sets.”
“Spoilsport,” she booed. “You never let me have any fun anymore.”
“Haha,” he said, monotone. “Anyway, you know how I’m Calliope’s favorite, right?”
“I know no such thing,” Rosa said, studying her nails dispassionately. “I’m fairly convinced that Ruth is her favorite, but I’m willing to entertain your delusions to see where you’re going with this flight of fancy.”
“None of that now,” he chided. She heard someone else talking to Dane in the background, but couldn’t make out the exact words. She did, however, catch his response (“You don’t need me to hold your hand through every scene.”).
“Don’t be mean to your hapless peons,” she scolded lightly.
“Anyway,” he said. “I was chatting with Calliope like I usually do and she told me that there’s a social worker snooping around the brats again. Is everything okay with Bro and Dave?”
“As far as I know,” Rosa said, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Why were you talking to Calliope?”
“You know how it is.”
“No, Dane, I don’t.”
He sighed and was quiet for a moment before admitting, “Since she’s on my coast of the world for once, Ruth and I were going to grab lunch. Ruth, uh… slept in, so Calliope and I went out on our own. You know she’s family like that and I thought she needed some time away from Ruth.”
“Goddamn it, Ruth,” Rosa cursed softly, rubbing at her temple. She sighed. “No, the issue wasn’t with Bro and Dave or even Rose. The social worker found another set of our half-siblings and was wondering if we would be interested in taking them in, as she’s been struggling to find them a home together with their… unique needs.”
“More siblings?” Dane asked. “Fuck, Daddy Dearest needs a vasectomy. Think I could find a doctor to do it against his will if I offer to pay enough?”
“Surely,” Rosa said. “You could save your money, though, as there is no shortage of people that would do the job for free.” In particular, she thought of her twin and his intense and everlasting hatred for their father. “But it wouldn’t do much good just now,” she said. “They’re a bit older than Rose and Dave.”
After a long pause, Dane said, “He was cheating on Mom.”
“Does that surprise you? I would be surprised if it did,” she said. “But, well. I already told the social worker that we wanted to take them in. She wants to arrange a get together with the kids to see if it’s a good fit. I, uh, probably should have run it past Ruth first.”
“It is her house. But she’d be over the moon to have more kids around, you know that,” he told her. To someone else, he said, “Get me the reddest pen we have. This scene is a fucking wreck.”
“This is a huge decision.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Who else is in the know?”
“At present count… myself, the case worker, and your illustrious person, of course.”
“No shit? You’re going to go meet them all by yourself?” he asked, attention firmly back on his sister. “That’s brave as shit.”
“Well, it’s not what I would prefer,” she admitted.
“Right,” he said. “Let me get it straight. You don’t want Ruth there because of… reasons… What about Bro?”
“Do you think he would be a good choice?” she asked.
Dane was silent.
“Me neither.”
“Well. Fuck.”
“Dane, I...” Rosa had to take a swig from her bottle to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “I want them. I want to help them. Ms. Pentri told me about their circumstances and...”
“That bad?” he asked after she lapsed into troubled silence.
“Worse,” she declared with a humorless bark of laughter. “Oh, Dane, whatever you’re thinking it’s worse. So much worse.”
“Lay it on me,” he demanded.
“Well the first one is Roxy,” she explained. “She’s recently been taken from her foster home after it was discovered that her alcoholic foster parents were abusing her for years.”
“Motherfuck,” he swore. “They’re twins, right? All of you are twins.”
“Don’t be jealous.”
“Fuck off.” To someone else, he said, “I’ll be there soon. Like, twenty minutes.”
“I’m keeping you,” Rosa said, troubled.
“Damn right,” he agreed. “So we might as well finish the conversation and I can show up fifteen minutes late with Starbucks like a true superstar.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she sighed. Figuring it was better to get it over with all at once like ripping off a band-aid, she launched back into her explanation. “Dirk is the younger one and they didn’t even know his last name until a few days ago because he’d been adopted and abandoned years ago. Years, Dane. He’s been living on his own for years with, reportedly, only Roxy for company.”
“What the fuck,” Dane burst out after a moment, just a hairs breadth from yelling. “Jesus fucking Christ, they just lost a kid? We had social workers up the ass for like ever with Rose and Dave, but when a kid genuinely fucking needs them they just fuck off, don’t they?”
Rosa let Dane’s expletive filled rant wash over her, not trying to understand anything as he just got out all of his second-hand anger. She was glad that someone else at least recognized how truly fucked the entire situation was. It made her anger all the more valid.
Dane winded to a close with, “We’ve gotta get them out of there. I’ll fly out tonight. When’s the meeting?”
“Excuse me?”
‘You’re excused,” Dane said. “You don’t want to go alone and now I’m emotionally invested in this. When’s the meeting?”
“Tomorrow,” Rosa said. “We’re going to be doing lunch, so I’m driving out tomorrow morning. The social worker says that Roxy is actually a fan of my work. It’s… flattering.”
“No shit?” Dane laughed. “Maybe one of them likes my movies?”
“Perish the thought. No one would appreciate that nonsensical trash you call art.”
“Oh fuck off.”
Rosa laughed and so did Dane.
In the quiet moment after their joy faded, she quietly confessed, “I really do hope they like us.”
Rosa Lalonde wasn’t one for showing weakness or a softer side. The world was tough and it was her job to be tougher, if not for her than for the tender hearts around her. It felt odd, but she knew Dane could understand her in ways that not even her twin could, as he bore some of the same pressures of notoriety.
“Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if they like us,” Dane said, almost carelessly. “Fuck, I don’t think I’d like anyone if I were in their shoes. But we’ll be good to them and… I don’t know, provide for them and shit.”
“We’ll keep them safe,” she said and it was a promise. “This won’t be easy. They’re both going to have issues.”
“If we can get Bro in therapy, we can get a couple of kids to talk about their feelings in a safe space,” Dane said, almost confidently. Rosa saw through it in a heartbeat, but chose not to comment. “And I’ll move home to help. Between me, you, and Ruth, I’m sure we can manage.”
“It’s going to bite you in the ass,” she argued. “You can’t exactly work from home.”
“It’ll give me time to pen an autobiography,” he said. “And I’m a filthy rich Hollywood actor, writer, and director. Everything I do comes back to bite me in the ass, so just send me the details.”
The next time Rosa saw her hot-shot Hollywood superstar brother, he looked exhausted, stepping out of the airport and immediately making his way to the car before anyone else recognized him. His exhaustion was subtle, almost unnoticeable. Had she been anyone else she may have missed it.
He took the passenger seat after tossing his bag into the back seat, the motion more like falling into the car than anything actually premeditated. He pushed his signature glasses up and rubbed his eyes before grunting, “Still driving the clunker, I see.”
“It’s a decent car,” she said and she was right. It was a long standing argument between her and her publishers and Dane. Everyone wanted her to get a new car, something flashy and sleek to match her better. Her practically won out every time.
(There was one incident of Dane purchasing a gaudy sports car and having it dropped off in the Lalonde driveway without a word. Rosa promptly found her signature black lipstick and signed on the hood before forging Dane’s signature with a Sharpie Rose found in the bottom of her backpack. She donated it that night and the charity raffled it off for a truly impressive amount.
When Dane didn’t rise to the bait, she shifted into drive and conversationally told him, “You look like shit, brother dearest.”
“I feel like shit,” he confirmed, sighing and somehow sinking deeper into the seat. “Apparently all the flight attendants were huge fans. I got three separate and very generous invitations to join the mile high club, you know.”
“Naturally,” Rosa nodded gravely though her mouth began to curve in a smile. “Did you accept any of the invitations?”
“First of all,” he said, sitting up. “I don’t want to disclose details of my sex life with my sister-”
“For a change.”
“Second of all, I hate hookups.”
“A true romantic in the modern age. Jesus take the wheel, I may swoon.”
“Don’t ask Jesus,” Dane advised. “I heard he hates the gays and I want to survive to meet the kids.”
“You’re hilarious,” Rosa informed him, entirely straight faced. “But enough of that. I need help with something.”
“If you can’t do it, no one can.”
“I need to find some way of telling Rose about Roxy and Dirk.”
Dane was quiet. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. She’s in bed for the night, but I was thinking of telling her before I send her to school tomorrow,” Rosa explained. “Portia agreed to pick her up from school since we’ll be a state away.”
“Good thinking,” Dane said. “But seriously, I have no idea. Maybe just like… announce it. Get it out of the way.”
“That’s a bad idea,” Rosa said apprehensively.
“Can you think of anything better?”
Rosa sighed.
“Dane?”
He looked over to the stairway where Rose had just emerged and waved in greeting. She hooked a left and briskly made her way to the kitchen, choosing to sit beside her older brother at the kitchen island for now.
“I didn’t know you were planning on visiting,” she said suspiciously.
“Ah, well,” he shrugged and swirled his spoon around in his cereal, barely touched given his nervous stomach that morning. This should have been Rosa’s duty, he thought, but she’d stepped out for a moment to take a call from her publisher. “There’s just… stuff… that’s come up.”
Instantly Rose was at attention.
“Is it Derek and Dave?” she demanded, face scrunching up in upset. “Is Dave okay?”
“Yeah, Dave is fine,” he rushed to reassure her. “Your twin is safe, sis, don’t worry. It’s not them.”
“Good morning, Rose,” Rosa greeted as she stepped back in from the back porch. She skirted around the dining room table to lean against the island, watching Rose guardedly.
“Good morning,” Rose greeted, shifting her suspicious gaze to her older sister. “What’s going on?”
“Let me get you some breakfast before we talk,” Rosa said, chickening out for the moment. “Any requests?”
“I can have Dane’s cereal,” Rose said. She ignored Dane’s cries for her to get her own. “Just tell me.”
“It’s really nothing you need to worry about,” she hedged. “We’ve just… Well we’ve recently found out we have more half-siblings.”
The house was silent enough following that revelation that Jasper could be heard kicking litter around his box in the bathroom across the house.
“I see,” Rose said although she really didn’t.
“We’ve been in contact with their case worker,” Rosa explained, smoothing a hand over the marble counter top nervously. “Dane and I are going to meet them today and discuss the possibility of adopting them.”
Dane spoke up to break the awkward silence as Rose stared at Rosa, face completely devoid of any clues to what she was thinking. “They’re twins and a bit older than you and Dave.”
“They’ve had a rough time of it,” Rosa said cryptically, not wanting to burden Rose with too much information. “We’re going to visit and we’ll likely be gone the entire day, so Portia will be the one to pick you up from school today.”
Rose swallowed hard, the only outward indication of her upset that she would allow. Very politely, she told them, “I actually don’t feel hungry. I’ll be in my room until I have to leave.”
The adults watched her scoot away from the island and hop off her stool anxiously. She hadn’t even made it to the stairs before they were trading anxious looks behind her back. As soon as he felt Rose was safely out of earshot, he said, “That could have gone worse.”
“True,” Rosa sighed and turned to pour herself a cup of coffee. “But it could have gone a lot better.”