“Who are you?”
“I’m Breanne Pancakes. Who are you?”
“Tim Jones. Why are you hanging out on our porch?”
“My mom’s inside looking at the baby. Somebody has to be on the lookout for the bad people. Duh.”
Tim was intrigued. “Bad people? Tell me about these bad people.”
Breanne schooled him on all things criminal and regurgitated everything Eliza had ever told her about her work. Tim was keen on finding out how to meet said people. Meanwhile, Eliza was in the master bedroom getting acquainted with Phoenix Jones.
“Hello there, little one. You’re so tiny and innocent. Too bad you can’t stay like this forever. What do your parents talk about when they’re in here, hmmmm? Do you know any of the secrets?”
Breanne was getting tired of being on patrol duty and decided to join her inside. The other Joneses—minus Mary—were having lunch. Apparently Mary went out which surprised Eliza a great deal.
“Hello! I’m Breanne Pancakes.”
Susie thought she was strange but obliged her. “I’m Susie Jones.”
John thought she was cute. “I’m Mr. Jones. That’s a pretty little outfit you have there.”
“Thanks.” She hopped on the stool next to him. “My daddy got it for me.”
“Uh huh! He buys me all kinds of things.”
As a matter of fact, he had spent nearly §3000 on Breanne’s room before she was born. Oddly enough, Eliza wasn’t on board with the expense. Perhaps pink frilly things aren’t grand enough for her. John was enjoying listening to Breanne go on and on about what her daddy bought for her. She reminded him of Susie when she was her age. She also reminded him that in just a few days he would have another little Chatty Cathy around. Susie was reminded of that too and didn’t know how she was going to handle it. For the present moment, she smiled painfully until it was over.
Eliza heard Breanne’s voice and decided she had enough baby time. She sat at the kitchen table and eavesdropped on the last bit of her conversation.
“Breanne, did you want to see the baby?” Eliza asked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Babies smell. And they’re loud. And they’re bald and look like little aliens.”
Heh, she’s right about that, Susie thought.
“Breanne Angelica Pancakes! That was not a nice thing to say! Now, apologize to Mr. Jones.”
“But, mommy! They are loud and smell and look like aliens!”
John was amused by the entire situation. “It’s quite all right, Eliza. You know kids say the darnedest things.”