Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Meredith? She doing alright?” Winston’s trying to figure out why Alan’s should-be-happy situation has me trying to kill billiard balls.
“For now. Not that your uncle gives a rat’s ass.”
That’s the missing piece they need. There’s no love lost between the Ford boys and their uncle, who nearly destroyed their dad and Cold Springs in one fell swoop.
“What’d he do now? Other than get his mistress pregnant, lie to his wife, and steal more oxygen than he’s entitled to.” Winston could list off more wrongs Jed has done, but he’s already rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the latest round of misdeeds.
I lower my voice to keep what I’m about to say between us. The last thing I need to do is start a panic in town. “Chrissy’s going after the company, which means it’s frozen. No construction after the existing permits expire or are completed.”
The Ford brothers understand construction and permits, with Winston being an architect and Wyatt having done quite a bit of specialized historical woodwork restorations on old homes. But apparently, they didn’t know about Jed and Chrissy’s issue.
“She’s what?” Winston balks. “No way.”
“Straight from Jed’s mouth,” I counter. “Have you met the new woman?” When they shake their heads, I fill them in. “Young, blonde, pregnant. She calls him Jeddie-Weddie and they baby talk to a disgusting degree.”
“Jeddie?” Winston says.
“Weddie?” Wyatt finishes.
I nod. “And Lucy-Juicy.”
A collective shiver runs through all three of us. “Let me in for the next game. I need to hit something, too, after that,” Wyatt says, putting a dollar on the rim of the table.
I hand it back. “Keep your money. Game’s on me.”
I clear the table, and Wyatt racks the balls. We play for a while before Charlene risks coming over again. She sidles up next to Winston to make cooing noises at Joe, who’s waking up from his nap, and then says, “Hey, honey-baby, good to see you. That one needs a friendly face.” She lifts her chin toward me. “Getcha anything?”
“Fries, please.”
Charlene starts to leave, but looking at his phone, Winston calls her back. “Can we get a fresh pitcher too? The girls are incoming.”
I make one more shot, the striped twelve ball sinking easily. “Let me finish running this and I’ll get outta your way. Need to get home and figure out if I can slow down construction enough to get the guys paychecks for a while longer. Even one more week is something.”
Winston nods approvingly, understanding that I’ll take a hit for any delays, but it’s worth it if the crews get paid. That’s what being the boss is about. Not the dismissive shit Jed said before selfishly focusing on himself.
Wyatt glances at his phone, too, and grimaces. “Afraid not, man. The girls are coming for you. And if you say I warned you, I’ll tell Hazel you’re the one who taught Lester to tell her ‘you look like bullshit’ and let the hell rain where it will. Namely on you.”
Lester is the foul-mouthed parrot Hazel inherited along with Gran’s house. He’s a riot and a really quick learner. It took only one visit, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a picture of Hazel to teach him to say that to her and only her. But that was months ago, so I guess Wyatt’s been banking that tidbit to lord over me until the right time.
“Fuck, man. Why’re you going straight for a kill shot?” I frown at him and then realize, “Why’s Hazel mad at me? I didn’t do anything to piss her off.”
As I say it, I search my mind. It doesn’t take much to piss my sister off, but I can’t think of anything. I helped at Mom’s bakery last weekend so Hazel and Wyatt could go to Newport, I didn’t leave the toilet seat up when I visited last time, and I’ve caused zero trouble at Puss N Boots. There’s nothing else.
Winston pipes up. “My guess? Something from girls’ night in.”
“What’s that?” I ask dumbly.
“Avery called an emergency meeting tonight. Made cookies and lasagna because she ran into Wren earlier. Said she was shooting daggers at everyone who dared to look her way. That’s why I’ve got Little Man.” He pats Joe’s butt and starts bouncing as the boy wiggles happily in his carrier. “And got kicked out of my house tonight.”
“Same,” Wyatt agrees. “What’d you do to Wren?”
Oh, shit. Hazel’s not mad at me for something I did to her. She’s mad because of something I did to Wren. “Later,” I tell them, holding up two fingers and beelining it for the door. The last thing I want to do is talk about Wren . . . with anyone. But especially with Hazel.
I almost make it.
The door opens right in front of me. “Going somewhere?” Hazel purrs, her arms crossed over her chest as she glares into my soul. When I open my mouth, she adds, “I don’t think so.”