Grant appeared from his bedroom and lined up beside Maisie.
“This is Mary Matterhorn.”
“Cassie Everest.”
“Same thing. She and GUP need to have a few words. Why don’t you both nap in your room for a bit and then we’ll go for a swim.”
“We’re too old for naps!” Grant bellowed.
“No you’re not, I take at least four a day.” Patrick stifled a yawn; one sounded pretty good right about now.
“But I’m not tired!”
“Fix yourselves a drink, then. Not too much. Just a light triple.” Patrick turned to Cassie. “I’m kidding,” he said, but his face remained deadly serious.
“Jellyfish eat out of their butts.” Grant flashed one of his trademark grins at Cassie.
“You’re missing a tooth,” Cassie observed, unfazed. “I read somewhere that squirrels can’t burp.”
“Is that true, GUP?” Grant looked up at his uncle, his hands clasped, desperately wanting it to be so.
“I don’t know, I’m not much of a reader. Go play.”
The kids scampered off, and once they were safely out of sight, Patrick motioned for Cassie to follow him through the sunken living room to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a cold bottle of Smartwater and handed it to her. “I thought I fired Neal.”
Cassie thought for a second. “Ummm, nope.”
“I fired someone.” Patrick grabbed a second water for himself, twisted the cap, and took a long sip.
“Your publicist. Also your manager, I believe.”
“Right.”
Rosa was scooping cookie dough in heaping mounds onto a baking sheet. Patrick reached for one and she slapped his hand. “I make these for the children.”
“All right, all right.” Patrick retreated, surprised.
“I love your hair,” Cassie offered. Patrick smoothed his hair before realizing she was talking to Rosa, who had recently dyed her mane an intense shade of violet to hide the encroaching gray. “It’s very pretty.”
“Gracias.”
Patrick turned back to Cassie with a realization. “You’re the one who asked me to have new headshots taken! You know I actually had them done? But then I remembered I fired Neal so I never sent them your way.”
“Nope. Didn’t fire him. Not to our knowledge, anyhow.”
“Hmm. Well, I meant to.”
Cassie spoke to fill the awkward silence that was certain to follow. “I thought I knew everything about you, but I didn’t know you had kids.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Patrick gathered a few of the breakfast dishes and put them in the sink.
“What does ‘GUP’ mean? If you don’t mind me asking.” Cassie raised the bottle of water, offering a weak “Cheers” before taking a sip.
“It stands for Gay Uncle Patrick.”
Cassie choked on her water, and some spilled out on her blouse. “You’re gay?”
“Cassie. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Patrick shook his head and looked down at his caftan, disappointed. And yet, he had never sat for a coming-out profile—even then it seemed almost passé （he never thought it necessary; he figured everyone knew）—so a cursory internet search might miss that detail.
“Oh, I see now. You’re wearing a dress.”
“It’s not a . . .” Patrick spotted Maisie peeking around the corner. “Yes, fine, I’m wearing a dress. I thought you knew everything about me.” He gestured for Maisie to turn right around and head back to her room. “Rosa, would you?”
“No cookies.” Rosa waved her finger at Patrick as a reminder before escorting her boss’s niece out of the kitchen.
Cassie continued. “About your career, I should have said.”
“Huh?” Patrick reached for a spoonful of dough, then thought twice of it, not wanting to incur Rosa’s wrath.
“I thought I knew everything about your career.”
“I’m not gay professionally, Cassie. I maintain my amateur status to compete in the Gay Olympics.”
Cassie took stock of the kitchen, fascinated by her surroundings. The gold foiled mirror behind the bar, the quartz countertops with the sparkled flecks, the high-end appliances and chef’s stove with six burners, the espresso machine that looked like it should have come with a spokesmodel highlighting its features. It was like being inside a catalog.
“Why are you here, Cassie?”
“Oh! Right. Neal thought it was time you come back to work.”