Digger was in the kitchen making apple pies when Ali arrived home. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t glance up when she came in. Whenever Digger baked, it meant he was stressed.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He didn’t respond right away. The only sound was the dull rumble of the rolling pin as he worked to flatten the pie dough. A couple of minutes passed, and then he flashed her a strained smile. “Gigi’s cough got worse this morning. I called the doctor, and he had me bring her in. He’s worried it might turn into pneumonia, so she’s confined to bed.”
Ali started to get up, but Digger held up a floury hand. “She’s asleep. You can see her when she wakes up. She needs to rest.”
Ali sat down and ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit her mother loathed because it resulted in Ali’s hair going everywhere. Gigi being sick frightened Ali. Gigi was so old; sometimes she reminded Ali of the stuffed birds and mammals mounted in display cases at the New Brunswick Museum: fragile and liable to fall apart if handled too much. It wasn’t fair. She had so much more to learn about Gigi and her remarkable life. Even worse, if something happened to Gigi, Alfie would never get to know her at all.
Time to share some happy news. “I met Alfie today.”
Digger’s eyes lit up. He put down the rolling pin and leaned against the counter.
“What’s he like?”
“You’d like him so much, Digger. He’s funny and smart.”
“Is he tall?”
“Nope—short like me. Well, not quite as short as me. And he’s a grade ahead of me even though he’s only a month older.”
“Huh.”
“We look alike.”
Digger beamed. “Didn’t I say that? Just like me and Teddy.” The smile vanished. “It’s awful that I don’t know Teddy’s son.” He began to scoop pie filling into the pan with renewed vigor.
ALI’S RULES FOR WHEN DIGGER BAKES
Ali sighed. “I wish the Other Sloanes didn’t hate us.”
Digger paused. “They don’t hate us, Ali-Cat.”
“They act like they hate us.”
“It’s complicated.” Complicated was the word grown-ups used when they didn’t want to tell you something. “Do you think Alfie is a Copycat?”
“Nope. He wasn’t all twitchy like you are sometimes. Of course, I can’t tell if people are Copycats like you can. Gigi told me not to say anything. He might not know about Copycats.”
“I don’t act twitchy!” Digger protested. Then: “Do I act twitchy?”
Ali raised her eyebrows. “When you’re dying to change but you can’t.”
“Huh.” He laughed and morphed into a raccoon with floury paws.
“You know Mom doesn’t like wild animals in the kitchen,” Ali reminded him.
Digger changed back. “Technically, I’m not a wild animal.”
“Tell it to the judge,” said Ali’s mother, who appeared in the doorway. Her hair, slicked back into a tight bun that morning, had mostly escaped its elastic and hung around her face in frizzy tendrils. After quick kisses for Ali and Digger, she collapsed onto a chair and popped a piece of pie dough into her mouth. “Any change in Gigi?”
“Not since we talked earlier this afternoon. Ali was just informing me that I sometimes act twitchy. Do you think I act twitchy?”
Ali’s mother chuckled. “Only when you’re awake.”
Digger made a face and turned his attention back to his pie. After fluting the crust with the precision of a pastry chef, he popped it in the oven and wiped his hands on his apron. “Ali met Alfie today.”
That made Ali’s mother sit up straight. Eyes wide, she turned to Ali. “You did?”
“He’s so great, Mom! We’re going to be friends!”
Her mother’s eyes watered. “I think about him and Colleen a lot. His mom and I were such good friends. She was the one person I could talk to about what it was like to live with a Copycat. We wrote for a while after they moved away, but eventually the letters stopped.”
“How come?” asked Ali.
“She needed to get on with her life. You can’t live in the past. It’s not healthy.”
Ali sensed the comment wasn’t directed at her. “You should call her, go for coffee.”
“Maybe. Did you meet Alfie?” she asked Digger, who shook his head.
“I tried to invite him in,” said Ali. “But I think he was nervous because of the Sloane Family Feud.” She turned to Digger. “You should pop out and say hello when he and I walk home together tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to do that, Ali-Cat.”
“How come? He said he wants to meet you!”
Her father shook his head. “Someday you’ll understand that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“A lot of things in this life don’t make any sense. You’d better get used to that.” An instant later he changed into Digger the dog and fled the kitchen.
Ali harrumphed. “Why won’t he talk about the Sloane Family Feud?”
Her mother leaned across and smoothed Ali’s fog-frizzy hair. “It was a dark time when Teddy died. I know Digger is happy that you met Alfie, but it also reminds him of how much he still misses Teddy.”
“But Teddy’s been gone for years.”
Her mother stood up. “I’m going to take a quick shower before supper. I know this is confusing, honey. The truth is, grief doesn’t stick to a timetable. Your dad’s doing the best he can. Someday he’ll move on. Until then, we just have to support him. The Sloanes are a complicated family.” She kissed Ali on the forehead and left.
That word again: complicated. But why were the Sloanes complicated? Was it because they were Copycats? Because of Teddy’s death? It was clear it wouldn’t be enough to have the Other Sloanes come to Gigi’s birthday party; she had to find a way to help her dad let go of the past.