Very early the next morning, after the dust settled, Bassy and I were eating pancakes in the kitchen. He was starting to fill me in on what was going on while I was in China.
Then, he told me, "Vanna, mom's upset about your book. She said she didn't like what you wrote about her in it."
I shook my head. "Bassy, mom is upset about more than the book. This has been building for some time now."
"But why? Why can't you get along?"
"Bassy, sweetie," I told him, "a lot of the stuff that happened between us happened well before you were even born."
"What kinds of things?" Bassy was really, really pressing me. He was pressing me to answer questions I wasn't ready to answer.
"She doesn't like what I do for a living, for starters."
"For what it's worth, I think it's pretty cool what you do." He flashed me his gigawatt smile. It's the same one dad has, the kind that lights up an entire room. "Everybody at school wants to know where my sister is going next."
"She wants me to get a nice boring office job or to sit at home waiting for some mythical prince to rescue me."
"Say," Bassy asked, his eyes lighting up, "how'd you get that gig? And why do you do it?
"I signed up for it, at this website. Easy peasy. "
"Why do you do it? I mean, why'd you sign up for it?"
"'Cause I like to push myself, test my limits. 'Cause when I was younger I used to like to explore the catacombs in the cemetery."
"You went in there?"
"Sure did. Plenty of times."
I would have continued the conversation, but my plane was leaving for Egypt. I had a mission to finish.
Continued on The Savannah Plumb Chronicles
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