was hired to be the property manager, not me." I was shocked to hear a daughter shift blame
toward her own father.
Felix grunted.
"Don't worry. I'll be talking with him shortly.
Let's first get this place liveable. There's a young girl
going to be living here now."
"Well, don't blame me if it turns back to a
pigsty before you even drive away," she muttered and
charged past me down the hallway to a closet. She
jerked it open and pulled out a pail and a mop, glared
back at us and continued into another room, probably
the kitchen. I had yet to explore the downstairs. Felix watched her and then walked slowly to
the living room doorway, where I stood waiting.
Great-aunt Frances either hadn't heard the commotion
or had ignored it. She was still transfixed on her soap
opera.
"Miss Wilkens," Felix said.
She just waved at him. He looked at me
quizzically. I smiled and shrugged. Finally, the
commercial came on and she turned to us.
"Oh, are you all unpacked, dear?" she asked. "Not yet. I had to find the bathroom first. Is that
the one I'll be using, the one across the hall?" "Yes, it is. We'll arrange it together. Now that
you're here. I'll have to get myself more organized,"
she said. "I'll have to be more like Emma."
More organized? I don't see any order, I I
thought,
"You mentioned you were going to make her
some lunch," Felix said.
"Lunch? Oh, right, lunch. In a few minutes.
Debbie has just learned that her sister's child is her