“Don’t!” Melissa hissed.
“Babe, I found them! They were in the garage,” Brad said, and he strode into the living room, all male pride at having found the mothballs. She threw out her hand and he lurched to a stop. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s right here!” Melissa whispered.
“The skunk?”
“Yes, the skunk! Lower your voice!”
The skunk took a few waddles toward Ophelia.
“Ophelia!” Brad hissed. “It could be rabid!”
“Oh, my God,” Melissa whispered.
“It likes me,” Phee said. “Right, baby skunk?”
“That’s not a baby,” Bradley said.
“Mr. Fairchild,” Ophelia said, “make yourself useful and get a carrot or something.”
Mr. Fairchild. God, the girl resisted everything! She’d called Dennis “Pop” after a few days, and poor Bradley was trying so hard. But the girl had a point. “Do it,” Melissa ordered quietly, and he backed into the kitchen.
The skunk did seem to like Ophelia. “Lure it out of the house,” Melissa whispered. “I’ll go open the slider, and you lead it over—”
“I know what ‘lure’ means, Melissa,” Ophelia said, not looking away from the skunk. It waddled a little closer.
“If that thing sprays in here, we’ll never get the smell out,” Melissa said.
“I know. Stop talking. You’re scaring it. Don’t listen to her, baby skunk. You’re just fine.”
For a second, Melissa almost liked Ophelia. Her confidence in this moment, her attitude, her steady gaze, her . . . her fearlessness.
Well. Melissa slowly glided toward the sliding glass doors that lined the entire back of the house and carefully, carefully opened one, then slid the screen door open. “Ready when you are,” she whispered. The fug of the skunk was heavy in the air. Lucia was going to have to fix that tomorrow. Make that tonight.
“Aw! Look at your li’l nose,” Ophelia said. “Are you so cute? You are.”
All those years of elocution lessons, and still the twang was in her voice. Sometimes, Melissa thought she did it on purpose.
Brad came in holding a loaf of bread and a carrot.
“You gonna make it a sandwich?” Ophelia said, glancing over her shoulder. “Bring me the carrot.”
“Is that what they eat?” Melissa asked.
“No, it’s what you eat, and you’re the one I’m trying to lure out of the house,” Ophelia said.
“Don’t be disrespectful to your mother—” Brad attempted.
“She’s not my mother,” Ophelia said in a singsong voice. “Try to get that through your head, Mr. PhD.” She reached back, and Bradley inched forward and put the carrot in her hand. “Do you like carrots, honey?” she asked, offering the carrot. “Do you?”
“Now start backing away,” Melissa whispered. “Toward me.”
“Have you two ever heard the word ‘micromanaging’？” Ophelia asked.
And then the skunk abruptly fell on its side.
“Is it dead?” Melissa whispered. “Did the rabies kill it?”
“You are as dumb as a box of hair, you know that?” Ophelia said. “It’s breathing, isn’t it?”
“What should we do?” Melissa asked, her anxiety spiking. She’d need to do some deep meditation after this. “It smells horrible even if it hasn’t sprayed.”
Ophelia thought a minute. “Get me a towel, Mr. Fairchild,” she said.
“Okay,” he whispered, and tiptoed out.
Great. One of her super-plush Turkish towels in mineral gray. A second later, Bradley returned with one and once again approached Ophelia. She took it, covered the skunk, and then made to pick it up.
“Don’t!” Melissa said. “Let Bradley do it. He’s the man. What if it bites you, Phee?”
“What if it bites me?” Bradley said. “I don’t know anything about wild animals. Lillie was the one who dealt with—”
“Shush,” Ophelia said. She slid her hands under the skunk and lifted it slowly. The critter didn’t move. Phee took a step, then another, then another, coming closer and closer to the open door. “I’m just gonna walk down to the shore and leave it,” she said. “If it’s dying, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
Melissa had to give her credit. She was so calm and mature. So much like Kaitlyn in so many ways, bad choices aside. Thank God the windows were closed, since it had been humid today, and Melissa preferred air-conditioning anyway. If the skunk sprayed, the damage would be mitigated （word of the day!）。