He gives me an exasperated look. “Millie, this is a job. We need money—badly. What do you want?”
“Is she paying you?”
He doesn’t answer. Which means the answer is no.
“So you went over there on a Sunday. And she didn’t pay you. How is that a job?”
Enzo rinses his mouth out, then spits in the sink again, more aggressively this time. When he looks up, he does not seem pleased. “Millie, she already got me two new jobs. She is helping me. She is helping us.” He waves his arms around. “How do you think we are supposed to pay for this house?”
It’s an extremely fair point. Building a business is all about word of mouth. And Suzette can help with word of mouth.
His shoulders sag. “Look, I am sorry I did not tell you where I went. But you were doing the play-dating with Nico. And Ada always just wants to read. So I thought this is a good time to go over there because nobody needs me.”
Again, he’s right. Everything Enzo is saying is a hundred percent right. And as hard as he works, Enzo has always been around for our family. He used to participate in tea parties with Ada and her stuffed animals when she was little. Even I couldn’t bear those boring teddy bear tea parties, but he sat through a million of them. He used to do different silly voices for the bears, although all the voices had an Italian accent.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you’re just trying to build your business. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time.”
He smiles at me. “It is a little cute when you are jealous. You are never jealous.”
It’s funny because it’s true. Women hit on him all the time, but I’ve always trusted him. I don’t know why Suzette manages to push my buttons the way she does. Especially since she’s married, so it’s not like she expects him to run off with her.
“I am sorry,” he says. “You forgive me?”
I don’t answer right away, so he comes closer to me and then kisses me with his minty fresh breath. Predictably, the last residues of my anger melt away. I’m terrible at staying mad at him.
“Mom! Dad!” a voice shouts through the door. “Little Kiwi is molting! You gotta see it! Come quick!”
There is literally nothing that kills romance quicker than being told that a praying mantis is molting in your house. Enzo and I exchange looks.
“Later, Nico!” Enzo calls out. “I am… talking to your mom. We are having… important conversation. I will see later, okay?”
But Nico is not to be put off. “When?” he calls through the door.
Enzo sighs, recognizing the potential for sexy time is over. “Just a minute.” He winks at me. “You want to see the molting?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“But…” He glances at the bedroom door, then back at me. “We are good?”
I only hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”
“From now on,” he says, “I will tell you when I go over to Suzette’s house. I give you my promise.”
“You don’t have to,” I say quickly. “I trust you.”
And I do. I trust him completely.
But I don’t trust Suzette.
THIRTEEN
My eyes fly open in the middle of the night.
It’s that scraping sound again.
I haven’t heard it in a few nights. I had hoped the house had finished “settling” or whatever it was that was making such a terrible noise, but there it is, as loud as ever.
I roll my head to look over at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It’s two o’clock in the morning. Why is there a scraping sound inside our house at two o’clock in the freaking morning?
I hold my breath, listening as hard as I can.
I don’t think it’s an animal. I don’t think we have rats scampering around behind the walls. I mean, I hope we don’t. It almost sounds like…
It sounds like somebody is trapped and trying to get out.
Janice’s words still haunt me. It must be something on the inside. There’s something wrong with this house. Inside this house. Something that scared off every other person who came to see it.
I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s driving me out of my mind.
Enzo is lying sound asleep beside me. The sound wasn’t enough to wake him. Although to be fair, I could be playing the tuba right next to him, and he would sleep right through it.
If I wake him up, he is not going to be happy. He already told me he’s got an early job in the morning that’s a forty-minute drive away. But on the other hand, he acts like this sound is something I’m making up. I’m the only one who seems to hear it.
Finally, I crawl out of bed. I’m certainly not going to be able to sleep with that scraping going on. May as well investigate.
The hallway outside the bedroom is dark. I debate if I should turn on the light, my fingers lingering over the switch. I don’t want to wake up everyone in the house, but I also don’t want to fall down the stairs. As much as I love all the space in this house, I feel a jab of nostalgia for the small apartment in the Bronx where I could pretty much see everything going on if I did a three-sixty turn. There are so many nooks and crannies in this house.
So many places for someone to hide.
