Milo was balancing a tray with a plate, a mug of tea, a soda bottle with a flower in it and an actual soda bottle. They still had a lot of ginger ale. He cradled it against him with one hand, and tapped on the door with the other.

Sometimes the people you loved needed extra, and you were supposed to pay attention and figure it out without asking. Hyacinth taught him that.

Now, Hyacinth definitely needed extra, but she wouldn’t take it if he made it cute like that. Mordecai kept baking cookies and pretending he didn’t notice when she stole them, and Ann pretended she didn’t feel okay going back to the Black Orchid all by herself. And everyone there really did like messing around with Hyacinth and buying her drinks, but they tried not to bug her about being sad all the time. That was the kind of extra Hyacinth liked.

Calliope was way easier. She didn’t lose a big important person like Hyacinth lost— although she did like Barnaby a lot anyway — but she had a whole bunch of things hit her at once. She didn’t get to do her art show like she wanted and it only went sort of okay, and she didn’t get to have fun with her family, and the salmon shoes knocked her back hard, and then on top of all that the cool old guy she considered a fellow artist died after trying to take care of her.

Milo wasn’t sure how he felt about that himself — Barnaby brought him shoes and a soda and tucked him in bed when he was freaking out from the fever, but on the other hand, there was everything else about Barnaby — but Calliope had it rough. Fortunately, she was willing to admit it. She just didn’t like everyone else to see her being sad. She thought it was like an imposition, they had enough to deal with.

She believed him when he said he liked taking care of her!

His hands were busy, so he hummed a little greeting when he nudged open the door. Humming was a Calliope-and-Lucy-only thing, but he’d started back when he hurt his head and he wasn’t gonna stop. “Hello” had a simple melody. He supposed he might go as far as “I don’t know” with a hum in an emergency, but “I love you” was way better in sign. You could get, like, gradients out of sign.

For instance, he set the tray at the foot of the bed and gave it to her with both hands: OK? [SLOPPY MUSHYX2] After a moment’s consideration, he made it X3. «hey, how’s it hangin’, cuddly-wuddly punkin-pie… bunny-boo?»

She snickered. She’d been lying on top of the covers with a box of tissues and she scooted aside to make room. “C’mere, cute guy. You don’t always have to bring me stuff, I like you too.”

He nodded and sat down. He did note that they were still at a more-than-a-couple-sneezes amount of used tissues on the bed, but she didn’t seem like she was trying to quit crying right now. He didn’t like her to have to stop crying all alone, but he knew sometimes that hurt less. Maybe she was all done hearing the same comforting stuff over and over, but not quite all done being sad. That was okay too.

He offered the plate, but he didn’t set it down. If she didn’t want to eat, he could put the whole tray by the art table. Or she could eat and talk, or just eat. He was paying attention, this wasn’t about him bringing her stuff because it was fun for him to bring her stuff. He hoped she knew that.

“Aw, you brought me Nievas.” He’d plated them for her and left the wrapper next to them on the side, he knew she liked the happy snowman mascot. She sniffled and picked up one of the used tissues to wipe under her nose. “He really liked sweet stuff, too, but Hyacinth made him eat real food because she didn’t want him to die.”

As if in a nightmare, Milo slowly began to pull back the plate of Nievas. He was very concerned that Calliope might think he was trying to kill her with sugar.

She shook her head and picked up one of the puffy mass-produced snack cakes. “You’d think if anyone was gonna put their foot down about not needing to eat any celery ’cos they were gonna die soon, it’d be him. I don’t like not knowing if he didn’t know he was gonna die, or if he just didn’t make Cin feed him cupcakes twenty-four/seven because he wanted to be nice to her. Or something else.

“I would’ve tried harder to be friends if he said he was gonna die soon, but he didn’t like people, so maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. I don’t like thinking maybe he was just putting up with me. Hyacinth knew him best and she seems really sure he was just being mean, but she’s mad at him right now.”

She sighed and scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I don’t like a person to end. Even a mean one. I know I keep saying that… It’s not ’cos I’m mad you didn’t like him, you don’t have to like him, it’s just not fair anyone has to end. He spent his whole life trying to learn stuff and all he left about it is the papers, and we don’t even understand most of ‘em. It’s selfish, but I’m scared of that happening to me.”

Milo shook his head. He was pretty sure Barnaby didn’t leave them papers for them to understand, the papers were like the wrapper you got around a fish. You couldn’t do that much fish without collecting a lot of papers. Also, Barnaby hated people understanding him. He tried to sign it for her: YOU ARTIST MACHINE [ATTIC] CRAZY.

She frowned. “It’s called outsider art, Milo. It’s a thing. But I guess he didn’t make it for other people. It’s more like ephemera. You think he’d mind if I save some of it?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll think about it. And don’t call him ‘attic thing.’ People aren’t things.” She made up a sign, since Milo hadn’t been inclined: PAPER, [BB]WALL. He’d finally killed it before he died — Hyacinth was never going to get all that paint off the walls, it had sentimental value. He deserved recognition. Barnaby Graham, slayer of wallpaper. “Both hands B or just one, Milo?” She tried it with just one B, experimenting.

Milo signed it with two Bs, firmly. The man loved his symmetry, Milo knew that for sure.

“Wallpaper” with two Bs. BARNABY.

Calliope nodded. She hugged Milo around the middle and picked up the other Nieva for him. “Here, I want us to die at exactly the same time.”

Milo frowned at the snack cake, then shrugged and took a bite. She meant, like, way later. He was okay with that.

She took a bite of hers and touched her tongue to the fakey cream filling inside, resisting the urge to lick any out. The rest of the cake wasn’t as good without it. “I’ve been thinking about how you screwed up asking to marry me so bad. Like, you thought there wouldn’t be any room for me and Lucy unless you pried out all your Ann gears and half the Milo ones. That’s really awful. I don’t know where you got your idea of ‘married,’ but I don’t ever want that with you.”

He nodded weakly. Yeah, he really messed that up. You could see how he put it together so wrong when you had it in cuckoo-clock form. Not one of his better ideas. Kind of a shame, she’d be cute in a fluffy white dress. Or whatever she wanted.

He hid what was almost a snicker with another bite of Nieva. She’d like to wear one of her paint shirts and pants and bare feet, like she was already. That was okay, too, but they didn’t need the wedding in that case. They could just eat cake and be comfy.

“Can we just, like, stay together forever, have lots of sex, and love each other? Is that cool with you?”

He drew back to stare at her, with chocolate crumbs on his mouth. Wait a minute THAT WAS AN OPTION?

Well, Milo, Lalage and Barbara did it that way, so…

…AN OPTION FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT LESBIAN GRANDMAS?

Um. Apparently?

He nodded rapidly and signed all the emphasis he needed to make it extra. I will be lesbian grandmas with you FOREVER, Calliope!

…Gods, I’m glad you don’t have a sign for “lesbian grandmas.”

He did add: I LOVE YOU! [EXTRA MUSHY]

She hugged him tighter, “I wuv ‘oo too,” and kissed the corner of his mouth where he had cream filling. “Oh, hey.” She stood up. “I keep forgetting. I just remembered ’cos we’re probably going to have to do some papers so they let you visit me in the hospital, in case I ever go back. But Mom left some stuff for Ann. Not for the hospital.” She smirked and pawed through the papers on her art table. “It’s just for fun, but nobody was having any fun, so I threw it over here and left it. What do you think?”

Rinswell Soap Flakes-Otis had filled out an adoption certificate in lovely ink handwriting that looked like it had been done with a brush. Stephen and Rin’s signatures were at the bottom — Rin had indeed learned to sign her name like it was on the box of soap flakes. There was an asterisk, and a second page stapled to the back with even more signatures. Someone had also drawn a tortured looking kitty-cat.

Calliope indicated it with a grin. “That’s from Helix and Sigma. Helix drew the head and Sigma drew the tail. And this is Melpomene, he signed for Thalia, too, she said it was okay over the phone. And Urania and Hitori and Clio, they sent theirs in the mail,” these had been cut out, applied with glue or a charm, and run through a copier that left a faint trace of the edges. “Erato, Aileen and Melody, Terpsichore, Polyhymnia and Hector, and Euterpe. And Ojichan and Mémère and Grandpa.”

Milo plucked at the paper with a shaking hand and didn’t quite dare take it. There were people on there he’d only seen in photo albums.

The name at the top of the form was Ann Rose-Otis, with a blank space for a middle name.

At the very bottom of the second sheet, Calliope’s mom had added in her pretty printing: (not legally binding but we all say she can stay!)

Oh, no, Milo. I want to cry!

He sniffled and took off his glasses to wipe under them.

Calliope made an uncertain smile. “Okay?”

He nodded, still dabbing his eyes with his sleeve, and signed a thumbs up.

“You guys should sign it too.” She smiled and shrugged. “And me. Does Ann want a middle name? She missed out at five, but she can pick whatever she wants, like the rest of us.”

Milo nodded rapidly, but he had more to say. He didn’t know enough sign yet, it was too complicated. He shooed Calliope gently away from the art table so he could work. She sat down on the bed and drank tea, giving him space.

“We’re also an Otis Family Franchise,” she added conversationally. “I gotta visit a frame shop sometime. Mom did all her best calligraphy on everything.”

Milo handed her a piece of paper with a large pencil sketch at the top, which made her snicker right away. He’d drawn a cake topper with three people — Calliope got to stay in her art clothes and Ann wore the dress.

She read his explanation beneath and her smile grew wider. She began to nod. “Yeah! I know what that is from Mom and Dad! It’s the same dress and everything, you’re right…” She shook her head. “Babe, Glorie and Sam and Maggie were gonna head out after dinner. If we don’t do it right now, we gotta wait three more months with everyone’s Yule stuff in boxes, or do it without them.”

Milo cringed. It was hard enough having that stuff left over this long. They had to throw out the tree already and Erik had cried, but obviously nobody felt okay opening the gifts. He thought it’d be a great excuse, and fun, but he didn’t know if they were ready to go right now. Maybe they should just…

Calliope stood. “If Em is okay doing a cake, I say we go for it, babe. I can help him bake, if you and Ann can watch the baby and get dressed. Ann wants to be pretty, yeah? Even if we don’t have a white dress?”

He nodded.

She pointed to her sloppy appearance on the cake topper, “And you don’t mind me like this? Were you just teasing?”

He shook his head, but he signed, ASK?

Calliope grinned. She took the flower out of the soda bottle on the tray, a daisy Milo had picked from a street planter on the way home. She put it behind her ear. “I’m dressed. What do you think?”

Milo signed, PRETTY [EXTRA]

◈◈◈

Mordecai was in the kitchen, addressing a bag of day-old pitas and half a dozen cans of chickpeas. He’d had it up to here with the casseroles, but he may have gone a bit overboard at the Farsian market. He had eaten a falafel sandwich with hummus before, but he’d never considered how much of it came from the same place. It seemed a bit mental, the sort of thing he’d come up with during a magic storm. Like saucing a potato dumpling with cream of potato soup.

I should’ve picked up some of that cucumber-yaourt sauce… Can I sub sour cream? Do we have any sour cream…?

He almost ran into Calliope in the doorway.

“Em,” she said breathlessly, “if I buy us takeout for dinner can you bake a cake?”

He frowned back at the chickpeas and pitas. “Honestly, it’s probably more like whipped cream on a sundae, this just isn’t my culture and I’m used to ordering it premade. I should broaden my horizons… Why a cake?”

“Ann’s gonna pick a middle name and be my sister and we thought if we made it like a party, we could open the Yule stuff and not feel too bad. If you don’t mind a cake, I’m going to ask Cin if she’s okay with it.”

Mordecai winced. “It’s not a bad idea and I don’t mind a cake… if you don’t mind an easy cake…”

“Nope!”

“Okay, but be careful when you talk to Hyacinth. She thought she was going to try cleaning up the attic again and she didn’t want to hear anything from me about how she didn’t have to.” She’d told him to go fuck himself, actually. She hadn’t been thrilled with him ever since he didn’t know the Queen songs she wanted to hear.

Calliope nodded. “Is she in her room?”

“Probably.”

◈◈◈

Milo had gone upstairs with Lucy in the Lu-ambulator, thinking of nothing more than happiness and potential outfits. Blue chiffon was the dress of the day, but — yet again — the pink dress was the newest and nicest because they’d ruined the previous model. On the other hand, one of their white nighties might be the closest in colour and style to the look they really wanted. Maybe it wouldn’t look too odd with a few petticoats and a sash or something…

There was a package wrapped in white tissue on the bed. It had a big pink satin bow and a tag on top.

Milo regarded it with a frown. He didn’t recognize this one from the haphazard pile left over from Yule. They wrapped their Yule stuff in newspaper. Someone had gone all out like this was a Twelfth Night thing, but they barely bought any Twelfth Night things. Everything had gone to hell on New Year’s. They’d meant to go out for brunch in SoHo with Calliope’s family, then come back and do presents in the evening, a good time for slightly delayed fireworks and liquor.

He didn’t like people sneaking around in their room to give them expensive stuff. What if it was really great and nobody ever told him who it was from? He wouldn’t know who to thank.

Oh, gods, he really hoped it wasn’t from Calliope, or her family. They’d already done so much…

Someone had cut the tag out of blue construction paper, a five-pointed star folded down the middle. He unfolded it with trepidation and saw unfamiliar handwriting. Ragged block letters — not big, confident ones like Hyacinth did, but wobbly like Erik used to do when he was relearning how to write. They were all facing the right way, though.

From Barnaby, he read suspiciously. It certainly wasn’t Barnaby’s handwriting. He’d seen that all over the place — jagged cursive with occasional highlights in copperplate, and sometimes a smiley face.

He suspected someone was writing with their off hand so he wouldn’t guess who it was, but he didn’t think anyone in the house had a sense of humour this weird.

Except maybe Barnaby.

If it’s really from him, it might be to hurt me or scare me.

Milo, that isn’t nice. He was kind to you and me, and he hurt himself so badly to help all of us.

Yeah, but if that happened in the middle instead of at the end, he would’ve messed it up by screaming at me or giving me an exploding box afterwards. He saw things. He could’ve arranged to mess with me whenever he wanted.

Well… What if we open it carefully?

After a moment’s hesitation, he parked Lucy in the hall and shut the door first.

◈◈◈

Calliope had already talked her way to the other side of Hyacinth’s door and explained the situation between volleys of sarcasm. She politely ignored the abandoned cleaning supplies and strew of used tissues on the floor. “…Em said he’d do a cake, but we don’t want to make you sad.”

 Hyacinth clicked her tongue. “I am not…” She growled and kicked the pile of tissues. “Is it any wonder I don’t have time to clear out the attic? Don’t you people ever get sick of being weird?”

“Nah.” Calliope plunked down on the bed beside her and put an arm around her.

“Don’t…” Hyacinth sighed. She dropped her head, shaking it at the absurdity, and at the symmetry. Yeah. Now I’m on the other side of sitting on a bed next to an angry person who’s really sad but doesn’t know how to deal with it. Like a goddamn mirror. Except you didn’t divorce me, Barnaby.

But, she reminded herself, at least I don’t have to pay you alimony.

“I’m super glad you haven’t had time yet, ’cos I want to save some of his collages,” Calliope said. “If you let me help, you don’t have to clean a mess and I get to keep being weird. I’m not mad at him like you, and I don’t miss him like you, either, but I liked him. He did some really neat stuff, even if a bunch of it was probably just to be annoying.”

“There’s… there’s…” She gestured atticwards. “I bet he left traps, or a box full of shaving cream… Something. He wouldn’t just go like that, even if he was sick of it, you know?” She turned away. “He wouldn’t just leave.”

“I bet you’re right.”

“Don’t humour me. You don’t humour the paranoid, it’s bad for them.”

“No, I know how he was. It’s just, you know, I can’t figure if he’d leave something obvious so you find it and feel better, or to give you a false sense of security, or try to drive you crazy making you wait. It’s like the meanest scavenger hunt ever and you have no idea when it’s gonna start or end.”

Hyacinth snickered. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I totally get why you’re not ready to have any fun with it yet. If he liked me like he liked you, I’d be flipping out right now.”

Now Hyacinth laughed. “He did like you, you know? After a fashion. He just has a funny way of showing it. Had.”

“‘Has’ is better, ’cos he’s not done yet.”

“Gods, you’re not wrong, I guess I was just trying to tell myself…”

There was a tap on the door, eerily similar to one of Milo’s semi-knocks. Ann’s voice said, “Cin? Are you there?”

Calliope popped up first to answer it with an excited grin. She let go of the door, only half open, and applauded. “Oh, Ann! So pretty! I didn’t know you had a white one, it’s perfect!”

“Thank you so much, Calliope, sweetheart. But I didn’t have this… May I speak to Hyacinth?”

Calliope stepped out of the way.

Hyacinth stood up. Her whole head went up and down, regarding Ann. “You know, it’s bad luck to see you before the wedding.”

The dress was white lace with at least three crinkly pink satin petticoats, and a sash with a huge fake pink rose. There was a set of white lace gloves, and a pink beaded necklace with three flower charms — on a strand of elastic, no metal at all.

(The necklace came care of Hennessy’s toy department, meant for girl children who liked to play dress-up. The charms were from the craft department. The dress was from the bridal department, perfectly tailored to Ann’s measurements, but Barnaby had asked what they could do to “tone down” the white. “To be perfectly honest, my granddaughter is not entitled to a white one. Kids these days, eh, Philippe?”)

Ann self-consciously adjusted the white lace bonnet, which had come from the sleepwear department. “It’s not a wedding. Cin…” She shook her head. “Um. I don’t want to upset you, but if this isn’t a prank you’re playing, we may have a situation.” She handed over the tag, the wrapping and the box. “There isn’t any magic on it or anything, Milo checked. It’s safe, but…”

Hyacinth read the tag, and began to grin. “I knew it!” She joyfully crumpled the tag, straightened it to read it again, “I knew it! I knew it!” crumpled it again and cast it aside. “Was it more delivery people? Has he sent me another piano?”

“Um, no.” Ann fidgeted. She hadn’t been expecting quite this reaction. “It was just, ah… As soon as Milo went upstairs to change, it was just there, waiting for us. On the bed. Ah, Hyacinth, Milo and I are fairly certain Barnaby has hired someone to break into our house.”

Hyacinth leapt onto the bed and threw the box and the wrapping into the air. “Hooray!”

Calliope collected the pink satin bow from the floor. “Cool, we can match.” She experimentally wound the ends around her left wrist.

“Mm,” Ann said uncomfortably. “Cin, there was also this strawberry bon bon? The kind with the gooey centre? There was a little paper star stuck to it and another note in that handwriting… It says ‘I promise time.’ Does that make any sense to you?”

Hyacinth was cackling with tears in her eyes. “No! No idea! I’m sure it’ll make sense at some point… I’m positive!”

“I… I don’t suppose it’s safe to eat? We sort of like these, but… I don’t know, maybe we’re being unfair, but… it doesn’t seem safe to eat.”

Hyacinth grinned at her. “I dare you.”

“No thank you. I suppose we’ll just, uh…” She put it behind her back. “Save it. Yes.”

Calliope was already rapping on the door to Room 202. “Hey, you guys! Guess what! Barnaby hired someone to break into our house!”

“Nobody has broken into our house,” the General’s voice replied faintly.

“Sure they did! Come look what they left for Ann!”

The General stood in the doorway, with Maggie and Sanaam peeking out on either side of her.

Ann spun around once, hesitantly, displaying the dress. She made an awkward smile at Maggie and Sam, doing her best to ignore the frowning woman between them.

“Someone seriously broke in to give you a dress?” Maggie said.

“It seems so. It was on our bed, so it could’ve been any time while Milo was at work. Unless you had something to do with it?”

Maggie shook her head. “But we’ve been here the whole time and we didn’t hear anyone.”

“Are you in on it?” Hyacinth asked. “Totally cool if you’re in on it, don’t tell me. But are you in on it?”

“Uh-uh,” Maggie said.

Hyacinth winked and gave her a thumbs up.

“No, seriously…”

“Ann, are you getting married?” Sanaam managed.

Ann gave a light laugh and brushed at the dress. “It’s sort of a christening gown. Calliope’s family is adopting me. We’re going to be sisters!”

The General rolled her eyes and groaned as if she had just been stabbed by the world’s most boring knife. “This absurdity does not require me. I have scheduled this time to pack.”

“Are you doing it right now?” Sanaam said. “Can we help?”

“Do you need decorations?” Maggie asked.

“That is an awesome idea!” Calliope said. “Let’s see if we can find Erik…”

“Sam, do you mind watching Lu?” Ann said, indicating the spider highchair. “I still have to do my hair and makeup… And pick a middle name!”

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all!” He tapped the machine, asking it to follow him downstairs.

Calliope waved him on. “Come on, we’re making a cake too!”

“Frosting, Lucy!” Sanaam cried. “Yay!”

“Yay!” the baby replied.

◈◈◈

Erik was already in the kitchen, sorting ingredients with his bear and elephant observing from chairs on either side of the table. “Don’t get me wrong, you guys, I want to help make a cake,” he muttered, “but they’re all so friggin’ worried about me trying to fix everything and I’m supposed to go play like a normal kid, but as soon as we get cake involved, all of a sudden that’s ‘age-appropriate’ and ‘fun.’ Like, cake doesn’t make all that other stuff go away, and if it did they’d be telling me I didn’t have to do it, but they wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t to help fix things. I’m telling ya, adults are out of their damn…”

He glanced up, saw everyone in the kitchen doorway and recoiled.

“Uh, da… dance, dancin’ machine…” He spun around once on the tile, faked snapping his fingers and signed them all a double thumbs up. “Woo.”

“Kid,” said Hyacinth, “you don’t ever have to pretend adults aren’t out of their damn minds. Not in this house, and not around me. I already know it and I’m not going to fake like it ain’t so to be cute.”

Calliope peeked past her. “Hey, Erik, have you been pretending to play just so we won’t be worried? That’s not…”

Erik growled and thudded his head on the table, making the sugar bowl jump. “Don’t be the help-police, Calliope! If you don’t want that, you better pick something else. If you don’t give me something to do, I am gonna go mental. I am trying not to be a pain in the ass, okay?”

Calliope padded into the kitchen, barefoot, knelt and hugged him. “It’s okay, hon. I’m sorry. Thanks.”

Erik sighed. He relaxed slowly and dropped his head on her shoulder.

“Is it okay if everyone else helps make a cake and put up decorations? I kinda think we all want something age-appropriate and fun to do.”

He wiped a hand under his grey eye and leaned back with a smile. “Yeah.” He leaned forward again to whisper in her ear, “Hide the chickpeas before my uncle gets back with the groceries or we’re gonna have another weird dinner. He has no idea how to make falafel, he’s just mad at casseroles.”

“I think if we help him, it might turn out okay, and if it doesn’t, we’ve got an excuse to order pizza. How’s that sound?”

Erik beamed. “Milo’s right about how smart you are. I’m glad you’re gonna be lesbian grandmas.”

Hyacinth cackled and Maggie joined her. “What?”

Calliope considered that for a moment. She nodded and grinned. “Yeah. Like at the Black Orchid. Can you make a sign that says that?”

“Already on my way to the scissors and paper!” Erik said.

◈◈◈

Mordecai returned a half hour later, with cake decorations, chips, dip, and a self-conscious roll of pink crêpe paper that he’d debated for ten minutes. They didn’t have to put it up if they didn’t want to, he decided.

He found chocolate cake batter already in progress in the kitchen, and an arrangement of cut paper letters on the table that said HAPPY LESBIAN. He couldn’t help but laugh, even if that might goad Hyacinth into biting his head off again. “I’m sorry.” He pointed. “Do, do I want to know?”

“Why shouldn’t I be happy?” Hyacinth said, but with a grin.

Sanaam paused with a finger in the cake batter. “Oh,” he said. That made sense. He shrugged.

Maggie tugged on his sleeve and said, “We gotta get her a girlfriend.”

Erik matter-of-factly laid a G on the table and began an R. “You don’t have to get married to love someone forever. You should’ve been lesbian grandmas with Cathy, just for sex, then you wouldn’t have had to be gay.”

“All right,” Sanaam said, laying down the mixer. “Now that requires an explanation. Please.”

Mordecai cringed. “Now, now, I’m obviously not… Not really… I don’t mean to be insensitive, a gay person can be like anybody! It’s not insulting at all! But, I am not one. It’s… It’s a long story.”

Hyacinth smiled at him with narrowed eyes. “Well, go on and tell it while I open the chickpeas. You can embarrass yourself twice!”

He sighed. “Well, I made a big mistake when I was younger, but I’ve always been much dumber than I think I am… Does anyone want chips?”

◈◈◈

There was something for everyone to do, or at least to pretend they were doing when they felt awkward. In between simple activities, they opened presents at random. It seemed easier than sitting down to do them all at once and making a big deal — less pressure.

The General was willing to pause packing to help them devise some magic-based decorations, though she kept her suitcase hovering plausibly over her shoulder as a reminder that she might go back into Room 202 to organize her things at any time.

When Ann came down, too pretty and painted to help in the kitchen, she found a scrambled message in paper letters: GRAPPLEHANDBASINYAMS — which Hyacinth and Calliope had done as a kind of tribute, despite Erik’s annoyance. She collected a pad of paper and began assembling anagrams with Milo, in search of the real message.

In the kitchen, Erik helped put together the cake, Sanaam provided basic falafel advice, and Hyacinth sampled everything in progress while ignoring the dishes.

Calliope interrupted her in the middle of investigating whether cake frosting was any good on potato chips. “Hey, Cin?” She offered a sheaf of papers in a folder with a majestic rainbow unicorn on it. “Don’t crumple my unicorn. It isn’t wrapping paper, ’cos the stuff inside isn’t a present. You can say no. I just thought you might like it.”

Hyacinth leafed through a series of preliminary sketches for Calliope’s mixed media portrait, Evil Old Man I Dreamed. Barnaby was wrapped in an obvious bedsheet instead of the dramatic cloak Calliope had made out of it, with an expression of haughty dignity Hyacinth knew he often adopted when he knew very well he was being silly.

Hyacinth saluted Calliope with the folder and a smirk. “I wanted to buy that portrait off you, but Mordecai said I could get all the free art out of you I wanted…”

Mordecai set down the hand mixer, indignant. “Must you be insulting? I didn’t…”

She opened the folder to show him. “Yeah, but look, you were right.” She offered Calliope a slightly misty smile. “I love it. Thanks. I’m gonna hafta get ‘em all framed.”

“Oh,” said Calliope. She held out a hand. “Well, give me back my unicorn and I’ll take ‘em with me to the frame shop. I’m going to do Ann’s adoption certificate, after…”

“Lesbian Grandmas!” Ann’s voice shrieked, from the front room.

Calliope covered a snicker.

A moment later, Ann swept into the kitchen to hug her. “Oh, I should’ve known you’d understand! You’re the best sister ever! Erik, did you tell her?”

Erik glanced up from the cake and signed them a grave thumbs up. It was as if he’d stuck a polite note on the front door of the little house Ann and Milo shared, for them to puzzle over at their leisure: (I got your back, bro/sis/cuz/fam/can’t decide how to say it, embarrassing, sorry.)

Ann sighed internally — they’d asked him not to do that. Milo just thought it was cute. He pasted it in the scrapbook of other cute Erik memories, next to the one of Erik stealing frosting with a fork when he thought no one was looking.

“Did you pick a middle name yet, or were you too busy?” Calliope said.

“Hm?” said Ann.

“For the form, so I can finish it and get it framed later.”

“Oh!” Ann said. “Well…”

This was a little like Erik not knowing a simple way to give their faux-familial association a name-check. Ann was aware of her tendency towards bizarre tangents, but she couldn’t think of a shortcut.

“Well, you know that tiara you made us, with the snakes? We like it very much, don’t ever get the idea we don’t like it, but it’s hard to come up with an occasion to wear it.”

Milo had wanted her to wear it now. Ann had pleaded that the bonnet was more appropriate and eked out a win, with a few bruised feelings.

“So it stays on the shelf in the closet, and we sort of say hi every once in a while. We thought, what if, instead of trying to come up with reasons to wear a snake hat, I call myself after that old hero who inspired you? Only we can’t remember what she’s called or what she did. Is she like a muse, like your other brothers and sisters?”

“Oh, no,” Calliope said, grinning. “More like a fury. A god cursed her with the snake hair for a totally bullshit reason that wasn’t even her fault so she hiked up Mount Belus and popped his head off. She put the head on her shield and she kept the snake hair and ran around killing monsters and married a queen.”

She leaned in and lowered her voice, but not so the whole room couldn’t still hear, “They like to say that was just a political thing, but I don’t buy it. Sappho is from Thessalonia and she’s how come we call it ‘lesbians’ anyway, so it’s not like they didn’t know, they just didn’t think it was polite to say. Her name’s Medusa.”

“Er,” Ann said. “Not that I disapprove, but I was sort of hoping you had a spare muse. Fashion design, or shoes…? You know. Something cute.”

“The muse of vengeance!” Calliope cried, clawing the air.

“My favourite meteor shower falls out of her constellation,” Mordecai noted.

“If you’re gonna kill monsters, you hafta be really careful you don’t hurt real people,” Erik said. “We have a book you can use.”

“Not to be insulting,” Sanaam put in, “but my old encyclopedia — which is riddled with errors, just ask my wife and daughter — tried to explain the queen thing by saying she was really a boy. Or, she defiled the temple by dressing as a girl. Or a boy killed her and put her head…”

Hyacinth rolled her eyes. “Gods, history is sexist. Can’t I have a definite vengeance lesbian to represent me? I know it’s not your fault, Sanaam…”

“Do you want that name, Ann?” Calliope asked gently. “You don’t have to. Anything could be a muse. I made one called Jeffrey, but I sold him.”

Ann smiled. Milo had gleefully produced a list of all the people they loved who had something to do with Medusa, and she could’ve been a boy in a dress! “Oh, well, yes. I think it’s rather a nice-sounding name. It’s muse-adjacent. Ann Medusa Rose-Otis. What do you think, sis?”

Calliope strode towards the doorway, “Let’s get everyone together and finish the papers right now!”

“Ammie?” Lucy piped up, from her highchair at the table. She signed, MORE.

Ann obligingly gave her a few more potato chips. “Ann-Mommy likes that name very much too,” she replied.

◈◈◈

They did it in the kitchen. The front room had all the decorations, but the kitchen had a big table — which Mordecai insisted on wiping down first, so Ann’s nice certificate wouldn’t get hummus stains. Ann signed her new name under Calliope’s for the first time, followed by Milo’s name, and put all three in a big red pencil heart. There was some applause and much hugging. Sanaam took photos.

Everyone decided to have cake in the front room, before or perhaps instead of dinner.

Erik grabbed his uncle by a coattail and dragged him back to the kitchen with the whirled peas. This went unnoticed, as Calliope produced the record player and invited song requests.

Mordecai waited patiently, but Erik only needed a few seconds to sort out his words, “Uncle. I need you to be really honest with me, okay? If I ask anybody else they’re gonna say it’s okay just to make me feel better — also I said something dumb while I was goofing around and you were at the store and they heard me, so I know they feel bad for me. I trust you, so don’t… don’t patronize me, okay?”

“What did you say?”

Erik groaned. “Come on!”

“Okay, okay.” His uncle pulled out a chair and sat down. “Let me start being honest right away, then. Ninety-percent of the time, people don’t really want to know what you think, they just want you to help them figure out what they think. You are asking a biased person who also wants you to feel better for an opinion you may not even want. Do you want more honesty like that?”

Erik nodded.

Mordecai sat back. “All right. Then shoot.”

“I wrote a song.” Erik put up a hand for a pause and shook his head. “Not for real, I’m not that smart. I just made the words about us and I learned how to play it all by myself, so I could surprise everyone. It’s cute and silly and I know we are not cute and silly right now, we’re just trying super hard and don’t want to make anyone upset. I was gonna save it, but I didn’t expect us to have a party again this soon. I could play it. But should I, or will it make them sad?”

Mordecai laughed and shook his head. “To be honest, I already want to hear it because I’m curious, but I will try to give you a real answer.”

He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand with a sigh. “It’s a dice roll, dear one. Not even one die with six sides, a whole big bag like Barnaby had, one for every person out there, and they’re all going to bang into each other and keep rolling. I know it’s been like that, and it’s always like that a little, but it’s extra iffy right now. Someone might get upset and start crying at any time, but that isn’t the same as you making them sad.

“It hurts to pick up the pieces and move on. It needs doing and we’re doing it right now, but it feels right and wrong all at once. It can go on for a very long time, and sometimes you find a piece you didn’t notice and fall apart all over again. It helps to do normal things like listen to music and hug each other, but it stings like when you put iodine on a wound.

“So I’ve got to ask you to be honest, dear one. If someone starts crying because it stings when you play your song, is that going to hurt you too much, or do you still want to play it? I can’t read your mind like you can read mine, so I’ve got to trust you. Don’t just say yes because you want to help. There are lots of ways you can help that won’t hurt you as much as sharing something you made to make us happy when it might not make all of us happy. No matter what you decide to do, we will keep helping each other and be okay.”

Erik nodded. “Then I guess I’ll be brave and play it.”

“Ah!” said Mordecai. “People lie themselves up to do some things they really shouldn’t by calling it ‘brave.’ Just for right now, let’s be real, not brave.”

Erik frowned. “I want to play, that’s real. I like attention and I’m a showoff. But if it’s a mistake and I get too upset, will you still hug me and tell me it’s okay?”

Mordecai nodded. “Always. And it will be okay. Eventually.”

Erik grinned. “Okay. Then I’ll go change my shirt and comb my hair and do it right. Can you cover for me?”

“‘Who’s Erik? What’s a violin?’” Mordecai replied. He turned back at the doorway and added in a stage-whisper, “Sneak out through the dining room!”