Mom opened my door. Walking in, she sat on the edge of my bed. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Hey," I answered slowly. "What's going on?"

"Well, remember when your dad told you that Nolan was getting worse?"

A slow, cold terror seeped through me like a bucket of ice water someone was pouring over my head. "No... Mom, it's not-"

Mom shook her head quickly. "No, no, Nikki. Nolan is okay. But... your father and I will probably staying at the hospital a lot more, during the daytime and overnight."

"Oh." I nodded. "You want me to stay in charge here?"

Mom pursed her lips. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... no, Nikki. I know you feel pretty capable of taking care of the youngsters, but Willa..." she trailed off, looking at me for a reaction.

I shrugged, trying not to show my hurt. Mom didn't trust me. "Yeah, it's fine. But who's gonna watch the kids?"

"Well...say, do you remember my stepmother?" Mom asked me.

I frowned, puzzled. "Um. Like... Grandmother?"

"No, no, my stepmother. Atricela." She said it like "Ah-tree-chella". "Grandmother was your father's mother."

I blinked. "Atri...cela. What a name."

"She's Italian," Mom said.

"Aha. So... what about her?"

"Well, she's coming to stay with you kids for a while."

"For how long?" I asked warily.

"As long as we need her to. And as long as she needs to."

"Huh."

Mom studied me. "Since she's my stepmother, you need to treat her with respect. She's an old woman, and can be... stubborn."

"Yeah, of course." A thought came to me. "Why haven't we met her before, Mom?"

"Before, Stepmother and I weren't on speaking terms. Now we are."

"Why?"

"Oh, Nikki, do you have to ask so many questions? We had a fight! I ran off! It was over! Then, she heard about Nolan and insisted that she would be allowed to help with you kids!"

I recoiled, stung. "Oh. Sorry for asking about a woman I've never met before," I said sarcastically.

"Nikki, you're such a smart aleck, you know? It's rude to talk like that."

"Hey, Mom, how about you go away so I can sleep now that you're finished yelling at me for no reason? Sound good?"

Mom slumped a little. "Oh, Nik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just that... Stepmother and I don't always see eye-to-eye. In fact, if she tries to force her crazy manners or something into you kids while she's here, you can lock her out. She'll just garden or something."

"Garden? In winter?" I asked.

"Well, not now," Mom said. "But she's really stubborn, and she hates it when kids have bad manners. Like I said, just lock her out if she gets too annoying, okay?"

"Hm. From what I hear, she doesn't sound like someone you'd want to let near your kids," I advised.

"Nikki, I know, believe me. If there was anyone else, anyone else, I'd choose them instead, but pretty much all your other extended family is in Florida or California right now to wait out the winter."

I snorted. "I guess."

Mom nodded. "So-"

"Wait," I interrupted. "How come she's here, then?"

"Well, she traveled here from Naples. She insisted on helping with you guys."

"Really? That must've been a long flight."

"Exactly." Mom sighed. "She's at a hotel right now, but she's coming here later tonight."

"Where's she gonna sleep?" I asked. "Since, like, I'm in the guest room..."

"In your room," Mom replied. "I hope you don't mind, Nikki. She's a very neat person. In fact, your room will probably be cleaner when she leaves than it ever has been before."

"My... room?" My voice came out as a squeak. "Mom... not my room!"

Mom threw her hands up. "What do you want me to do, Nik? You can't get upstairs yet, and she won't sleep on the couch! You're just going to have to deal, sweetie. I'm sorry, but that's how it is."

"No!" I squeaked. "Mom, she'll clean my room! She'll throw away all my stuff!"

"No she won't," Mom said wearily. "I'll talk to her."

I glowered at Mom, not believing her. "Mom..."

Mom jumped up. "Oh that must be her at the door!"

"In the middle of the night?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes-she probably wants a coke and gin..." Mom trailed off and hurried out of my room.

Shaking my head, I turned onto my side to try to sleep.

. . .

An hour later, I was woken.

I turned into my back and sat up, staring right into the face of a scary old woman.

She was wizened like an old nut, with narrowed chocolate eyes and frizzy grey hair. She looked down at me, her thin, wrinkly lips pursed into a frown.

"You're Nikki, I suppose," she said. Before I could say anything, she continued, "Brown hair, round face, and... what color eyes are those, girl? Nothing like my stepdaughter's. Must be Arthur's. I always said, she shouldn't have married an American man. They never give you time of the day, hear that, girl? Don't marry an American."

"Okay..." I replied.

"Good. Let me see that arm." The woman took my cast in her wrinkly hands and blinked down at it. "We must get this thing off. Your arm needs to breathe to heal- JEANNE!" she hollered.

Mom appeared at the door, breathless like she'd run all the way from the basement. "Yes?"

"Get me some scissors. And my gin. Be sure to mix it with Coca-Cola Zero, that's zero sugar."

Mom nodded vigorously. "Of course, Stepmother." She left for the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a tall glass of dark brown liquid and a pair of big gardening shears.

She handed the scissors to Atricela, watching warily as the old woman lifted the sharp shears to my cast. "Stepmother..." she tried.

"No, Jeanne. The girl's arm must have fresh air to breathe and heal. That is the final decision."

Mom stepped back. "Well... do what you think is best, Stepmother."

"Hold on, you're gonna cut off my cast?" I asked, panicking. "But that's how I heal-"

"Correction, I am cutting off your cast," she replied, and promptly snipped through the cast. It fell to my bedspread, the inside a nasty yellowish color.

"But-no-you can't-" I stammered.

The old woman stared me down. "You are to call me Nonna, do you understand?"

I blinked at her.

"Child, you will respect your elders. You will call me your Nonna. I will call you what I want, hear?" Nonna waved her hands at me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom slink out of the room, leaving me alone with the madwoman.

"You're not my grandma, though," I told her. "So, shouldn't I call you..." I fumbled around for the right words, "Pa-"

"I am Nonna!" Nonna repeated firmly. "Now, let me see that leg cast." She brandished her shears again.

"No." I pulled the sheets tightly across my legs. "Sorry, but it's my leg, and my arm, and you shouldn't have even cut off my first cast. That's just crazy, that's what."

Nonna stared at me, her eyes narrowing even more. I held her withering gaze for what seemed like hours, but was only a minute or two.

Finally, Nonna looked away first, scowling. "Alright, child, I won't help you. But you can't say I didn't tell you so when your leg takes twice as long to heal."

"My name is Nikki."

Nonna snorted. Then, she lifted her coke-and-gin and took a long pull. Then she held it out to me. "Drink?"

I paused. This might be the only time I'm able to drink as a kid for a while... I looked at the glass. It was half full. I looked at Nonna. Her lips had a sore on one. Cold sores? I didn't want those. You got them from drinking after people. They were ugly, large sores that looked painful. I shook my head. "No, thank you."

Nonna sniffed. Then she took a pipe out of her pocket, a large one, and lit it. She stood and walked out of my room, filling the air with smoke.

I coughed. When Nonna had offered me the coke-and-gin... was that a test? What was she testing me for?

And why was Mom so scared of her? Why had they fought?