Oh, no. Please let “her” be anyone— anyone—other than my cousin Tiffany.
A burning smell wafts through the air. I grab the very-toasted sandwiches out of the oven and turn them over as Mom comes back in. She has an odd look on her face. “Well,” she says.
I brace myself for bad news.
“Your aunt and uncle are going out of town. And the nanny who takes care of your cousin Tiffany is leaving town, too. The nanny’s mother is having surgery on her knee.”
I perk up. “Can I watch?” I’ve always wanted to see an operation. I’m not grossed out by blood or intestines or anything. The only thing that makes me squeamish is when JoAnn turns her eyelids inside out, and I doubt a doctor would turn her eyelids inside out during knee surgery.
Mom stares at me. “Of course you can’t watch, Dr. Smarty-Pants,” she replies. “The point is, all the adults will be gone, so Tiffany is coming to stay with us for a while.”
No wonder my scalp is tingling. “A while? How long is a while?”
“A week or two, more or less.”
