"She can be Gregory's mother now," Philip said.
Ivy winced, the way she did each time her mother made a fuss over Gregory. Maggie was warmhearted and affectionate-and trying hard, much too hard. She had no idea how ridiculous Gregory found her.
"Mom will always be our mother, and right now she needs us."
"Okay," Philip said agreeably. "You and Ella go. I'm going to ask Tristan to move in with me."
"Tristan!"
He nodded, then said softly to himself, "Walked the batter. Tying run coming up to the plate."
Apparently he had made up his eight-year-old mind and didn't figure that the matter needed to be discussed further. He played contentedly. It was the strangest thing, how he had begun to play again after his fun with Tristan.
What had Tristan said to Philip that helped him so? Perhaps nothing, Ivy thought. Perhaps instead of trying to explain their mother's marriage for the last three weeks, she should have just stuck some shrimp in her nose.
"Philip," she said sharply.
The tying run had to come home before he was willing to talk to her again. "Huh?"
"Did Tristan say anything to you about me?"
"About you?" He thought for a moment. "No."
"Oh." Not that I care, she told herself.
"Do you know him?" Philip asked.
"No. No, I just thought that maybe, after I found you in the storeroom, he'd say something about me."
Philip's brow knitted. "Oh, yeah. He asked me if you like to wear pink dresses like that, and if you really believe in angels. I told him about your collection of statues."
"What did you tell him about my dress?"
"Yes."
"Yes?" she exclaimed.
"You told Mommy you thought it was pretty."
And her mother had believed her. Why shouldn't Philip?
"Did Tristan say why he was working there tonight?"
"Yup."
The inning was over. Philip was setting up a new defense.
"Well, why?" Ivy asked, exasperated.
"He has to make some money for a swim meet. He's a swimmer, Ivy. He goes to other states and swims. He needs to fly, I can't remember where."
Ivy nodded. Of course. Tristan was just hard up, earning his way. She should stop listening to Suzanne.
Philip stood up suddenly. "Ivy, don't make me go to that big house. Don't make me go. I don't want to eat dinner with him!"
Ivy reached out for her brother. "New things always seem scary," she reassured him. "But Andrew has been nice to you, right from the start. Remember who bought you Don Mattingly's rookie card?"
"I don't want to eat dinner with Gregory."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Philip stood next to her, his fingers moving silently over the old piano's keys. When he'd been younger he used to do that and sing the tunes he was supposed to be playing.
"I need a hug," she said. "How about it?"
He gave her an unenthusiastic one.
"Let's do our new duet, okay?"
He shrugged. He'd play along with her, but the happiness that she had glimpsed in him earlier had disappeared.
They were five measures through when he slammed his hands down on the piano. He banged and banged and banged.
"I won't go! I won't go! I won't!"
Philip burst into tears, and Ivy pulled him toward her, letting him sob in her arms. When he had settled into exhausted hiccups, she said, "You're tired, Philip. You're just tired," but she knew it was more than that.
While he rested against her she played for him his favorite songs, then softened the medley into lullabies. Soon he was almost asleep and much too big for her to carry into bed.
"Come on," she said, helping him up from the bench. Ella followed them into her room.
"Ivy."
"Hmmm?"
"Can I have one of your angels tonight?"
"Sure. Which one?"
"Tony."
Tony was the dark brown one, carved out of wood, Ivy's father angel. She stood Tony next to the sleeping bag and Don Mattingly. Then Philip crawled into the bag, and she zipped him in.
"Do you want to say an angel prayer?" she asked.
Together they said, "Angel of light, angel above, take care of me tonight. Take care of everyone I love."