Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 12

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 12

December 21
Eli was stretched out on the bed in the guest room, texting back and forth with Margo, when he
heard his parents’ car pulling up the driveway. Margo was in the middle of explaining to him
that she’d had no more news from the network, and Eli was attempting to distract her as best
he could with bad puns. Margo oneupped him in the pun department as the sound of car doors
closing reached Eli’s ears. Sweet Potato was curled up around Eli’s neck like a fuzzy scarf, which
might have been cute and cozy if it weren’t so hot.
“Should probably go face the music,” Eli told the cat, and nudged him until he finally leapt to the
floor with no sympathy whatsoever for Eli’s plight.
He texted Margo to let her know she’d won the pun war (for now) while he shuffled on bare
feet into the kitchen. He needed a glass of juice, something to get the lump out of his throat
before he spoke with his parents. The standoff over the Christmas ornaments had gone on for
several days, and he figured it was time to clear the air.
The front door slammed. “Eli? Are you here?” his mom called. She didn’t sound angry, just kind
of anxious.
“Whose bike is that outside? Meant to ask about it yesterday,” his dad’s voice floated through
the house.

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Eli gulped down a mouthful of Minute Maid before calling back, “Mine. Thought I could get
some exercise while I was here.” It wasn’t a lie, but he
hesitated to mention that the bike was a gift from Nick. His mom was probably still sore about
all the time Eli was spending with him.
Cora Ward popped her head in the kitchen, beaming at Eli. “Are you busy at the moment?”
Eli looked around the empty kitchen, then down at himself. He was obviously dressed for a lazy
day with his loose basketball shorts and an old high school T-shirt with the sleeves cut off,
leaving ragged edges. “Can’t say I have any pressing plans.”
He could hear some commotion in the sitting room, like his dad was fussing with something and
muttering under his breath. Eli craned his neck to try to get a peek around the corner, but his
mom stepped directly into his line of sight, just like Nick had yesterday with the bike. “Your
father and I have a surprise for you. If you’re up for it.” She glanced at his rumpled clothing with
pursed lips. “You might want to change. And fix your hair.”
“Why?” Suspicion dripped from the single syllable.
Wendall appeared briefly holding a box. From the stilted way he moved, it must have been
heavy. He disappeared again, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
“I need to grab some things from the closet.” Cora stepped forward and gave Eli a peck on his
slack cheek. “Max is outside when you’re ready.”
“Wait, why is Max—? Okay, already walking away,” Eli muttered to no one, now that his mom
had bustled out of the kitchen.
Eli headed for the hallway bathroom to get his hair under control. He noticed there was a blank
space beside the bathroom door where a picture frame was supposed to be. Strange. He
distinctly remembered seeing it there this morning. He stared at the bare nail with his hand on
the bathroom doorknob. “Mom?” he called, but no one answered him. He looked over his
shoulder and saw a neat row of ghostly rectangles on the wall of the hallway. Outlines of dusty
gray where frames had hung against the cheerful robin’s egg paint for decades.
Okay. Freaky. Maybe his parents had decided to toss all the old photos after all.
Eli quickly fixed his hair and changed into his old stand-up uniform: black jeans and a black tee.
On his way out the door, he passed by barren sideboards
where picture frames had once bristled, noticing the lines they left in the faint dust on the
furniture.

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Max was, indeed, standing outside with a huge Nikon—big enough to get some good paparazzi
shots of the moon. Cora and Wendall were there, too, freeing their old family photos from the
box of frames and showing them to Max. Cora looked up with a bright smile when she heard the
door.
“Okay, sweetie, so first of all, if this isn’t something you’re interested in doing, just let us know.”
“I don’t even know what this is,” Eli pointed out.
“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Wendall said. He carefully lifted the back from another
picture frame and snagged the photograph from inside. Eli recognized it even from a distance:
some summer vacation, his hair in tiny pigtails, he and his parents all lined up eating ice cream
cones of different colors, their faces jammed together as Wendall took the photo selfie-style.
It was a cute picture, even if Eli didn’t feel any real connection to it.
“This was all your cousin’s idea.” Cora patted Max fondly on the cheek. “Such a brilliant
photographer.”
Max slouched further, eyes darting to the far corners of the yard. “Normally I take portraits of
roadkill, but sure, I can handle this.”
“Maybe someone could explain it to me like I’m five?” Eli asked. “A hint, even. First word sounds
like…?”
Wendall placed the liberated photograph in the growing pile on the corner of the cement
planter in front of the porch. “Here’s the story, morning glory: we’re going to take some new
pictures. Replacements.”
“You can pose just like you did in the old ones,” Cora gushed. “Look, I even brought costume
changes!” She hefted a giant Beall’s Outlet shopping bag, showing Eli the wads of clothing that
threatened to spill out.
“And then we’ll have brand-new pictures of you and us that we can put up in the house
instead.” His dad flipped through more of the frames in the box, then stopped at one that
showed Eli proudly holding up a microscopically small fish that he’d caught on the causeway.
“Look at that smile. Oh, we’ve got to do this one for sure.”
“It’s, like, a meme?” Max said. “Re-creating childhood photos as an adult. People post them
online like before and after, but we can just focus on the after.”

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