The text message I received was from my Great Aunt Maggie, the Supreme Mother of the Genome clan, instructing me to ferry my god-niece Lupe from the old metrop of Durham, where she attends the School of Science and Math, to Shady Grove Village, my ancestral home and the domain of my mother's family.
The Village Outfitters as seen from the river.
I responded by saying that my calendar was full and that I couldn't get away just now. I promised to get back to her in a few days. She then replied with a great deal of claptrap about an aunt's curse that included many variations of, If you know what's good for you. Minutes later, I received a text from Lupe, the 11 year old geezer mentioned in Aunt Maggie's text. On my way up. Don't make me wait!!! Did I mention that she's 11?
I opened the door and there, standing on my threshold, was a half-pint version of the maximum adult dose of young hipster. She wore spider-crushing combat boots in a sort of silvery-black color with red socks. A plaid shirt in red and black was tied around denim shorts and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. A wide-brimmed black hat with a red band was pushed back from her face. It was a big morning for red and black.
"Don't make me wait?" I said in a light rebuff.
"I know how you can be," she said as she walked into the room.
"How I can be..." I said with more than a little topspin. "Is this the beginning of a beautiful conversation?"
"Ha!" she said laughing now. "You big jamoke! How are you?" And with those words she threw her arms around my waist and my mood was instantly elevated. She has that power with me. You see, this Lucy Lupe Mankiller and I go way back. Well, we go back 11 years.
"Jamoke?" I said. "I'm not familiar with the term."
She ignored the remark. Her attention seemed to have been arrested, if that's the word. She was scrutinizing my face. She stepped back to get a better view.
"What happened to your caterpillar?"
"Oh, that little thing," I said. "I shaved it this morning. I thought it was time for a new look. You don't see many upper lips these days or chins for that matter. Adds a bit of the debonair don't you think?"
"No," she said.
"No? That's disappointing. I was hoping for your approval. Why don't you like it?"
"Well," she said, "you don't have an upper lip."
"Oh, that does hurt," I said. "It may be thin, Ms Mankiller, but it's there. And we may still be looking for my chin but I do have an upper lip and right now I'm struggling to keep it stiff."
She let that one slide and changed the subject. "I'm happy that you're going to the village with me."
"Don't get your hopes up, young Mankiller, I don't plan to be there for long."
"How long will you be staying then? You'll be there through mid-summer night?"
"Absolutely not," I said. "The last thing I want is to get stuck playing the part of the Fool in the Mid-summer Festival."
"Too bad," she said. "Nothing exciting ever happens in the village," she said and then added the footnote, "unless you're there, of course. You have a special knack for adding interest."
"I know why you say that with that silly grin, young Lupe," I said. "And for the millionth time, it was not my fault."
"Burning down the girl-guides' dormitory?" she said. "How's that not your fault?"
"I've explained repeatedly," I said, "that I had no choice in the matter. I was forced to make a decision on the spur of the moment, and burning the place down was all I could think of to hide the evidence."
"Hmmm," she said with a meditative nod, "Stick with that story if it suits you." And with another big grin she added, "You're like the snake that slithered into Eden and caused all the trouble for Adam and Eve. I can't wait to see what you do for an encore."
"Oh? I don't know," I said in a meditative state of my own, "so you think slithered is the right verb do you?"