Chapter 9
“What’s gotten into you, girl?” Aunt Libby shifted her crochet out of the way. “Oh look, you’ve gone and tangled up my yarn.”
“Sorry,” I said, clutching Aunt Libby’s neck.
Uncle Flip set his book down on the table as he sauntered toward my room. “Very nice job, Becca. Now that’s what I like to see.”
I pulled my face from the lilac comfort of my aunt’s neck, but I couldn’t see what Uncle Flip was talking about. He was standing outside my bedroom with the door propped open. He looked gratified and impressed, but I couldn’t fathom why. When I slipped from my aunt’s lap, she heaved herself up from the couch and followed me to the doorway.
“What do you say, Libby? Does this deserve a late dinner, or what?”
Aunt Libby and I poked our heads into my room at exactly the same
