Free This Must Be the Place: A Novel by Kate Racculia Page B

loosely from her neck. Having to eat Mona’s stupendously tasty dinners within ten feet of Bert Draper was a lesson in culinary sadism: it was painful, but the food tasted too good to stop.
    “This,” Arthur Rook said, and paused between swallows to breathe, “this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.” He took a long swig of water and exhaled. “I want to . . . to
hug
this food.” His cheeks were bright pink and he was smiling. He had a huge smile, Oneida realized, one that made him look like a completely different person—like someone who might be fun to have around, and not just because it was always fun to have a weirdo you could gossip about behind his back.
    “You haven’t answered my questions, young man.” A crumble of ground meat trembled on Bert’s lips as she addressed Arthur.
    “Which question was that?” Arthur asked. His hand wavered; his fork, carrot speared on its tines, seemed to have forgotten the way to his mouth.
    “What brings you to Ruby Falls?” Bert asked.
    Arthur’s eyes flicked up and to the right and then back again, to Bert’s face.
    “What brings
you
to Ruby Falls?” he said.
    Oneida squeaked.
    “I was
born
here,” Bert said. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve lived in this house for twice as long as you’ve lived on this planet and you will show me some respect—”
    “Bert,” Mona said quietly.
    “I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Arthur continued. “I don’t have anything to hide. I’m not—”
    “So answer the
question
, young man.”
    Arthur looked at Mona—looked right
at
Mona—for help. He might as well have said the words:
Will you tell this old bat to back off?
Oneida saw it. Anna saw it, Mona saw it, and Bert
certainly
saw it.
    Bert glared at Mona and ran her tongue over her front teeth.
    Mona inhaled. “Bert, please,” she said. “Give him a break.” Shenodded at Arthur. Oneida noticed the glow of gratitude staining his cheeks again, as though he’d made a friend for the first time in his entire life. Arthur Rook’s hunger was as naked as it was unsettling, and Oneida cringed, embarrassed for him. “If he wanted to kill us in our sleep, he’d have done it by now.”
    Oneida heard the gentle teasing in her mother’s voice, but Bert reacted as though she’d been smacked.
    “You’re despicable, Desdemona. Making excuses—
flirting
, in front of your daughter, with a stranger. A
married
stranger.”
    Arthur was married? Oneida squinted across the table, but Arthur’s left hand was half-obscured by the salt shaker.
    Mona balked. “I am not
flirting
with him, Bert.” She turned to Arthur. “I’m so sorry for this, Mr. Rook.”
    “Arthur,” Arthur said.
    “You—” Bert stuttered. “Desdemona Jones, your parents would be ashamed of you.
Ashamed
. Apologizing to
him
after what he’s said to
me
?”
    “What did he say to you, Bert, really? What did he say that was so unforgivable?”
    “He didn’t say
anything
—that’s what’s so unforgivable. And you—do you have no idea what you have in this house, you silly girl? What you should be protecting? I know more about these rooms and everyone who’s ever slept in these beds and eaten at this table than you can suspect—and that includes you, Miss High-and-Mighty—and I know why and how to protect it. I know
everything
that goes on here”—it wasn’t Oneida’s imagination that she spat those words at Anna and Sherman—“but I can’t be held responsible for your secrets when you let the wolves in at the door. Good night to you all.”
    She pushed herself away from the table and Sherman, belatedly, tried to assist and only succeeded in handing Bert her cane. The assorted weirdos, daughters, mothers, and lovers of the Darby-Jones sat together in silence at the dining room table, the emphatic clomp of Bert’s cane the only sound in the entire house. Mona looked over at her daughter, and the faint sheen of fear in Mona’s eyes gave Oneida a horrible chill. Whatever Bert meant by