Chapter Fifty Piper
Chapter Fifty
Piper
The day flew by as Piper flitted around the cul-de-sac, parachuting in where needed.
She mediated disputes at the surprisingly contentious pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey station, solved a Crock-Pot-extension-cord crisis for the Fort Hunt Presbyterians, and dealt with allegations of line cutting at the face-painting station.
“Thanks.” She actually was hungry, now that Kiersten mentioned it.
She purchased a bowl of Presbyterian chili and augmented it with a can of Coke and a bag of Doritos from the crew-team concession stand.
Then she sat down at one of the blue-and-white-checked tables in front of the musicians and looked around for her husband or the girls. As she squinted into the distance, something caught her eye.
Caitlin stood at the entrance to the bouncy house, arms crossed over her chest. A tall older boy obviously wanted to get inside, in defiance of the age limit they’d imposed to keep the little kids safe.
Caitlin raised her hand, pointing to the entrance of the cul-de-sac, clearly telling the boy to leave. The boy shook his head and widened his stance, refusing to move.
Piper rose from the table, eyes narrowed. She’d never seen this boy before.
Wait. Could this be Alex Orlov?
She sprang from her chair and moved at a fast walk toward the bouncy house, forcing herself not to run, not to alarm anyone, never taking her eyes off the boy.
Her stomach dropped as he pulled a phone out of his pocket and raised it to record Caitlin.
She increased her pace.
Suddenly Matthew Cleaver appeared beside Caitlin. He reached out and snatched Alex Orlov’s phone.
Almost there.
Just as she approached the bouncy house, Luke and Guinevere appeared on Caitlin’s left, Guinevere’s velvet cape swirling like Wonder Woman’s, if Wonder Woman were flat chested, wore glasses, and had blue hair.
“Everything okay here?” Piper asked, out of breath.
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Mondello,” Matthew said evenly.
“He stole my phone.” The tall boy spat out the words, his face red.
“I took Alex’s phone because he was going to record Caitlin,” Matthew explained, never taking his eyes off Alex Orlov. He had his father’s unflappable Scandinavian demeanor.
“No, I wasn’t,” Alex argued.
“Yes, you were,” Caitlin insisted. “And now you need to leave.”
“That’s right.” Guinevere stepped forward. “And henceforth may you never darken the door of our cul-de-sac again.”
Piper bit back a smile. Like mother, like daughter. Then she turned to Matthew. “I’ll take the confiscated phone, if you don’t mind.”
Matthew handed it over. Piper jerked her chin at Alex Orlov. “Caitlin’s right. You need to go.”
Caitlin lifted her chin. “Now.”
“I can stay if I want to,” he said, his voice sullen. “It’s a free country.”
“Not here.” Piper shook her head. “This is the People’s Republic of Beaverbrook Lane, and I’m asking you, nicely, to go home. Now. Follow me if you want your phone back,” she said, taking a few steps toward the entrance to the cul-de-sac.
He shot a parting scowl at Matthew, Caitlin, Luke, and Guinevere, then lumbered beside her, brows knit, mouth twisted in an ugly sneer.
She shot him a sideways glance. He was considerably taller than she was, with his father’s thick build and small deep-set eyes.
“How old are you?” she asked when they reached the entrance to the cul-de-sac, where a black dirt bike leaned against a telephone pole.
“Almost fifteen,” he said.
“Held back?” she asked.
“I repeated kindergarten.” He scowled. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
She held out the phone, and he grabbed it.
“Leave now and don’t come back,” she ordered.
His upper lip twisted in a sneer. “You won’t be able to kick me out when I live here.”
She stifled a gasp. “What do you mean?”
He grabbed his helmet from the handlebars of his dirt bike. “My parents are gonna buy that new house. The one they’re building on this street. I’ll be Caitlin’s neighbor.”
Then he tugged the helmet over his head, jumped on the bike, and tore down the street, leaving her speechless.