Beaumont had none. “His hair’s too short,” I said to Fiona. “Nothing to hold on to.”
“Me next,” Fiona said, itching the back of her head.
I stood behind the couch and asked her to take out her combs. She did so, letting her curls cascade around her neck and face. I spotted several right away. “Sorry, Fi. You’ve got them too.”
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Can we get rid of them?”
“Yes, we need vinegar and oil. I’ll have to coat your hair and comb them out.” My mouth twitched, wanting badly to break into a grin.
Fiona shot daggers at me with her eyes. “This isn’t funny.”
Beaumont giggled. His brother spoke sharply to him in French but seemed to forget the scolding when his head itched again.
I turned back to Bleu. “Would you like me to cut your hair short like Beaumont’s? It’ll be less hot and all the nits will be gone.”
He nodded, explaining that he’d been forced to grow it long so he would look different from his brother.
“We’ll need a pair of sharp scissors,” Fiona said, despair in her voice. “This is awful. Our friends are headed here tonight. We could infect them.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll run out to the shops to get proper scissors. Put a note on the door explaining why they shouldn’t come in.”
“No, call James. Ask him to bring scissors for us,” Fiona said. “Anyway, you can’t go out. You might have them too. I should check your head.”
“We’ve all been out all day.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t a good argument. Fiona wouldn’t want to take a chance we’d give them to anyone else, especially if we’d already done so.
“We have a problem,” I said when James answered the phone. “Nits. Bleu and Fiona both have them.”
“Lice?” James asked, sounding scandalized. “Poor Fiona. She’s distraught, I suppose?”
I glanced at her. She had both hands in her hair, itching away. “Terribly,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“It’s still not funny,” Fiona said.
“We need scissors to cut Bleu’s hair,” I said to James. “But I don’t know what to do about Fiona’s.”
She shot me another scathing look.
“You’ll need vinegar and oil,” James said. “With that combination, you’ll be able to get them out. My nephew had them last summer. Nasty little critters."
“Do you think you can find some scissors that will cut hair?” I asked.
“Yes, I have a barber friend. I’ll stop by and get them, then head over.”
“Tell the others not to visit tonight,” I said. “Fiona’s request.”
“I’m sure they’ll all be grateful,” James said.
“He’ll bring us scissors,” I said to Fiona.
From the couch, she said, “Tell him just to leave them by the door. We don’t want to infect him. And tell him to tell the others not to come by tonight.”
“Come on over here,” Fiona said. “I’ll look at your head.”
“I don’t have them,” I said after I placed the earpiece back onto the phone. “Nothing itches.” Regardless, I sat and told her to look away.
She stood behind me. Her slender fingers riffled through my hair. “It’s like silk, this hair,” she muttered under her breath.
“And no nits, correct?” I asked.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” I said, bubbling over with laughter.
“How is it that I have them and you don’t?” Fiona asked.
I didn’t know why. I’d held the boys close that very afternoon. “I’m lucky, I guess. Come on, let’s mix our concoction.”
“Might as well get on with it,” Fiona muttered.
I stifled any further laughter. Someday she might find this amusing, but now was not the time.