“He’ll come.” Maybe. I hope so, for her sake, anyway.
“Tell you what. You fall in love and get married first. If that works out, I’ll consider it.”
“I guess the boys are stuck with me,” I tell her, crouching down to see if the oil is still draining.
“It looks like it, so if we could try not to send mixed messages, that would be awesome.” My sister skillfully brings the conversation back where she wanted it in the first place. Then she shuts off the hose and walks toward the house. “I need to get Ash and Colton into the shower. When you’re done out here, maybe you could come in and read them a bedtime story.”
“You bet, but they’re probably going to end up getting more wound up than anything. Robin Hood is about to give the Sheriff of Nottingham what for.”
“As long as you don’t suggest slitting people’s throats when they’re rude to you.”
“Deal,” I tell her. Then, after I hear the screen door slam, I add, “But I’m still going to teach them how to fight.”
Chapter5
Harper
Dear Readers,
Until I learn more about what’s going on with Brett and Harper—but don’t worry, I have my ear to the pavement—I’m going to dish some history.
You might remember that over the years, Brett Kennedy has been linked to such starlets as Holly Wooshwiller, Julia Fletcher, and Monica Thompkins. While I’ve always loved to report on his many affiliations, no one was as happy as me when he settled down with Harper.
I loves me a lady! And Harper is that through-and-through. She’s beautiful, classy, and just plain perfect. She’s Audrey Hepburn for the millennial generation and I cannot get enough.
I just knew that she was the gal to tame that bad boy, but alas, things are looking grim. Rumors of Brett’s past philandering have run amok.
Harper, doll, you need to put on your thigh-highs and crack that whip. Don’t put up with any more nonsense!
Dish,
Ferris Biltmore
* * *
“The woman on the phone said they have one cabin left,” I tell Prisha excitedly.
“But Alaska? There’s nothing there other than wilderness and grubby men with three-foot-long beards. They’ll probably make you eat seals and wear raccoon tails on your head.”
I throw a couple of sweaters into my suitcase. “Where do you get your information?”
Kicking her feet up on the footstool in front of my reading chair, she replies, “That showWild Menon Netflix. It’s downright terrifying.”
Turning back to packing, I tell her, “I’m going to a lodge. You know, a place where they not only house you, but feed you as well?”
“A-L-A-S-K-A,” my friend enunciates slowly and loudly like she’s trying to teach me a new language. “Not only that. It’s a place called Gamble. Is that even real? It sounds like something you’d see in a romantic comedy movie.” She tilts her head, then adds, “Or a horror film.”
“Prisha, we’ll be fine. But if you’re so worried, come with us.”
The startled look on her face causes me to laugh for the first time in weeks.
“As much as I’d love to do that, someone has to stay here and represent you when the tabloids get the wrong info. By the way, that ‘Brett has never hit me’ photo is causing all kinds of trouble for him with the studio.” She pulls theInquisitoroff the stack of rags on her lap and holds it up for me to see.
“Can you blame me? I’d just found out my loser husband had made his relationship with the nanny public. What was I supposed to do?”
“Harper, no one hates Brett as much as I do,” my friend says in her placating fashion. Then, noticing the look on my face, she quickly adds, “Except you, obviously. But you should know by now that his reputation is directly tied to yours. I’ve taken more calls than you can count from battered women’s groups asking you to be their spokeswoman.” Before I can respond, she says, “You need to keep a low profile and quit spreading false rumors.”
“Yes, Mom,” I say with an abundance of sarcasm. “I’ll just be a good girl and let my husband cheat on me with the free world and not say a word.”