"Is your older daughter mentally ill or something? You adopt a little brother and she loses it like this?"
"You and your wife are saints for putting up with that. In my house, she'd have gotten a beating."
Terence replied to each message with apologies.
"It's our fault as parents. We haven't raised her right. Tomorrow I'll send everyone a gift card as an apology, and I'll treat Mrs. Chen to coffee."
Mom said nothing. She just wrinkled her nose.
The smell was getting worse.
A burnt, acrid stench laced with something else entirely was seeping through the cracks around the door and the gaps in the unsealed pipes, creeping into the living room.
Harrison burst out of his room, hand clamped over his nose. He kicked the bottle of cough syrup sitting outside the door and sent it flying.
Glass shattered. The dark liquid pooled across the floor.
"It reeks! Did she poop in there and smear it on the walls?"
"Gross, gross, gross!"
He squatted down and dry-heaved twice, then scrambled to the window and gulped in mouthfuls of fresh air.
Sally glanced at the black water seeping through the crack under the door.
"Honey, that smell isn't right."
Terence walked over and leaned in to sniff. His brow furrowed, then smoothed out just as quickly.
"That coal stove burns cheap loose coal. Of course it stinks. The ash probably got soaked in water and started rotting."
He knocked twice on the door.
"Libby, put out the coal stove."
No response.
"Libby?"
Nothing.
Sally lowered her voice. "Maybe we should open the door and check?"
Terence pulled the handle. It didn't budge.
Harrison had locked it from the outside. But yesterday, he'd also sealed the entire doorframe with expanding foam sealant, plugging up even the keyhole.
"We'll need someone to come take it apart."
Terence sighed.
"It's the weekend. Locksmiths are hard to book."
He picked up his phone and scrolled through a few numbers.
"Earliest anyone can come is tonight."
Sally hesitated.
"Then... why don't we go get some fresh air first? The community charity awards ceremony is at two this afternoon. We can take Harry to pick up the trophy."
She walked to the entryway console, peeled off a sticky note, and hunched over the counter to scrawl a crooked line of words.
She stuck it on my door.
"Be good, Libby. Mommy's taking your brother out and will be right back. There's cough syrup and a hand warmer by the door. If you're hungry, come out and eat. Love, Mommy."