Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

“Zoe, you don’t have to rush.”

“They’re getting cold,” I said, heading for the kitchen.

When I returned with Mom’s plate, Finn had given up on eating in the chair. He had moved over to sit on the floor and had put his plate on the coffee table. The man was definitely weird.

“Here you go, Mom.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said.

I walked around Finn and the table and sat back down to finish my breakfast.

“Oh,” Mom said. “They are a little cold.” Then she gave me a pathetic little smile.

“I’ll warm them up for you,” I said, already back on my feet, circling the table, and taking the plate. I mean, of course they were cold to her. She had just eaten a Popsicle.

I punched in thirty seconds on the microwave and then headed back to my mother.

“Thank you, honey,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to do that.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Yes, you did. Now eat them and go back to bed.”

Finn made a sound that I couldn’t quite identify. The sound was followed by a laugh. Yes, then another. I was pretty sure Finn was laughing.

I turned to glare at him. “Are you laughing at me or her?”

“Finn?” Mom said, her voice stronger with anger. “Are you laughing at us?”

Finn grinned and nodded. “I do apologize, ladies, but I do enjoy watching the two of you.”

Mom smiled. “I guess we can be a little ridiculous.”

“One of us can,” I grumbled and went to fetch my ice cold pancakes. “Do mentors laugh at their students now?”

With a shrug, Finn said, “What do I know? I’m just nineteen.”

My mother started laughing, then wincing and holding her hand to her throat.

With an exasperated sigh, I walked back to the kitchen. “I’ll be ready for my lesson whenever the real Dr. Finnegan returns.”

“Have I upset her?” Finn asked as I slipped into the kitchen.

“No,” Mom said through a giggle. “She’s messing with you and getting away from me before I ask her to do anything else.”

“Ah,” he said. “Good plan.”

I grinned as I went to get the ingredients together for today’s brewing lesson. Finn was going to test me on coping with unexpected potion results. I had mastered that by messing up every potion I tried when I was in third grade.

An hour later, as I cleaned up the neon yellow foam from the kitchen floor, I realized that Finn had some tricks up his sleeve.

“You indicated you had read my treatise on Environmental Aversion.”

“I have. I haven’t reread the second part. I can see that was a mistake.”

“What is the lesson here?”

“Reread the second half?” I sprinkled salt on the floor and then used a clean dishcloth to rub it in to the tile.

“And?”

“Don’t assume I know everything?”

“Very good.”

“Are we finished?”

“Would you have us stop at a low-point?”

“No. Let me run up and check on Mom real quick.” I tossed the towel into the sink.

“I’ll prepare the ingredients for our next foray into environmental disaster aversion.”

From the hallway, I could tell Mom was snoozing. I didn’t want to leave her without checking on her fever. I tiptoed over and touched her forehead gently with the back of my hand. She didn’t seem too hot.

The fact that she didn’t wake up at my touch told me how sick she was. My mother was generally a very light sleeper. Normally, stepping into her room would wake her.

The glass on her nightstand was empty. Next time I came up, I’d have to bring her something to drink.

It wasn’t noon yet, and I was almost ready for a nap. Mentally I was fading fast. Not a good omen when I was facing Finn’s challenges.

The next thing Finn threw at me was a fertilizer potion with the possibly catastrophic addition of water and chlorides, better known as human sweat. The neutralizing agent was actually sugar, so I handled it without any problem.

“Nicely done.”

“Thanks.”

“Should you check on your mother again?”

“I was thinking that. How many more disasters am I averting today?”

“I think we should call a halt for now. Your mother indicated that this would be a busy weekend with schoolwork, and she will require your assistance in her weakened state.”

“Mom would hate hearing you say that.”

“Say what?”

“Weakened state. You’re better off saying she’s sick. Using any form of the word ‘weak’ when referring to my mother will earn you some serious doghouse time.”

“Don’t use weak in any form. Check.”

“You probably shouldn’t think the word either.”

“She can read minds?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Do you need anything before I go? Do you have groceries for tonight? What will you do for dinner?”

“Mom will have soup, and I’ll microwave something.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Or make a salad. I might make a salad.”

He packed up his backpack and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” I said, and he went out the front door.

I fixed a glass of Sprite, heavy on the ice, and took it upstairs.

This time, Mom did wake as I crept into the room.

“Zoe?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me. I brought you something to drink.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Is your throat any better?”

“Not really,” Mom said. She sat up enough to take the glass and drink from it. “I forgot how horrible it is to be sick.”

“When can you take more acetaminophen?”

“Noon.”

“It’s past that now. Where is the bottle?”

“On the dresser.”

“Where’s your cell?”

“On the television.”

I gave her two tablets of the fever reliever and placed the phone on the nightstand. “Finn’s gone. I have to work on that paper. I’ll listen for you, but calling me is probably the best thing.”

“Thanks, Zoe,” she said, handing me the glass.

“Get some rest, Mom,” I said.

Saturday crept by at a snail’s pace. I worked on the paper, checked on Mom, and worked on the paper some more. I wanted to work in the living room, but I sat upstairs at my desk because I worried that she might need me close by.

Dad called at some point, and told me he hadn’t been able to check on the limestone yet. He said he had a lead on a quarry that he could visit on Monday.

“That’s okay, Dad. I’m studying, and Mom’s sick.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a cold or flu or something.”

“Do you guys need anything? Should I run to the store?”

“No. Finn got some stuff for us. We’re okay.”

“Oh,” he said. “Dr. Finnegan took care of it. That was nice.”

Dad had been too busy with Sheree to spend much time with Finn. “Dr. Finnegan’s great. He and Mom get along really well.”

“They do?”

“Uh, yeah. Parent, teacher, why wouldn’t they get along.”

“I could take you to dinner tonight.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I don’t want to leave Mom.”

“Dr. Finnegan isn’t there now?”

“No. Why would he be?”

“Call me if you need anything, Zoe.”

“I will, Dad. Thanks.”

Jake called almost as soon as Dad hung up. “I heard your mother’s sick.”

“Imagine that,” I said. “Is my Dad always at your house?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Is your mom okay?”

“Yeah. She’s got a sore throat and fever, and she’s sleeping.”

“What are you doing?”

&

nbsp; “Working on this stupid paper.”

“You should take a break.”

“I am. I’m talking to you.”

“I mean a real break. Like I come over and hang out.”