My weekend was spent packing and moving. The Kade house wasn’t a house at all. It was a mansion, one that had pillars on their front patio. A fountain was in the foyer with a spiral staircase behind. Then there was the kitchen. It looked like it could’ve been built for a restaurant, with a chef that went with it. His name was Mousteff and he had a twitchy mustache and meaty hands. My mom introduced us, but it was with a hand waving in the air as if she was the first lady giving a tour. When we moved beyond the kitchen I glanced back. Moustefff was sharpening a meat cleaver. He winked before I turned the corner.
As for the actual moving, James Kade paid for a moving company, but he and his sons still helped with some things. Mason and Logan moved past me, grabbed boxes, and took them insid
