“You smell like fast food and regrets,” she said near my ear.
“I’ve had plenty of both.”
Sylvie tsked as she plucked a pink cupcake from Frannie’s plate. “I knew that ex-fiancé of yours was no good.”
Now she told me. “You didn’t think to share that information sooner?”
“Do you remember my words to you on the morning of your wedding dress fitting?” Sylvie asked over the loud chatter coming from her living room.
“Stuff my bra?”
“The other ones.”
My grandmother had told me to run the other direction. In my defense, these were not words you gave someone mere months before the wedding. “You could’ve conveyed your thoughts on Ned much earlier.”
“You wouldn’t have listened. You had your head in the clouds and were inlooove.” Sylvie saidlovelike I said typhoid.
“It’s okay, hon.” Frannie licked the frosting from her outrageous manicured nails. “I’ve been married three times. It doesn’t always work out.”
“I thought you’d been married four times,” I said.
Sylvie shrugged. “Her math doesn’t always work out either.”
“It’s a free country,” Frannie countered. “I can claim the ones I want and forget the rest.”
“One of them forgot her.” My grandmother shared a conspiratorial smile with her former CIA partner in crime. “Thanks to a special pink pill created in a secret government lab and a professional knock to the head.”
Frannie lifted a hand of praise toward the ceiling. “The wonders of science and illegally procured pharmaceuticals.”
My grandmother and aunt were newly retired CIA agents. Formerly used to high-adrenaline action and questionable methods of law enforcement, the two now filled their time butting into the lives of their offspring. Sometimes I’d rather my grandma go back to espionage.
“Sylvie, I’m really tired.” As in I was wrung out, exhausted, and about to collapse. “Maybe I could just turn in for the night, and we could all chat again tomorrow morning. Could I get the keys to the rental?”
My grandma tapped her chin. “Yeah, about that.”
“Oh, no. Emma warned me about this.” Emma was my cousin, and at one time she had been a tenant of Sylvie’s as well. “Don’t pull any funny stuff.”
Olivia laughed. “Here we go. Sylvie Life Manipulation is afoot.”
“I had the Pink Lady all picked out for you,” my grandma said of the adorable Victorian she’d sent photos of. “But I just got word this afternoon that there’s a leak in the water line on the second floor, and water flooded the place. It’s absolutely uninhabitable. Floors and walls have to be ripped out and replaced, and you don’t even want to see the ceiling above the master suite. Won’t be fixed for probably months under the best of circumstances.”
“Actually, I can vouch for this story,” Rosie added. “I went over with a mop today.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it on every level. I was sorry for Sylvie, but profoundly grieved for myself. “That sounds terrible.”
“My insurance agent would drop me if I didn’t have a one-inch-thick folder of dirt on him,” Sylvie said. “But have no fear, I have found a few low-budget housing options for you.”
I lookedtoward both of my sisters for help. “Maybe I could stay with one of you? Just for a few days?” Or week or months.
“You can stay at my house,” Rosie offered. “I only have four foster dogs with me at the moment, so plenty of room. Oh, and about a thousand books in my guest room.”
“Like four cute, small dogs?” I asked my kindhearted sister.
Olivia flung an arm around Rosie. “Like four dogs large enough to form their own Iditarod team. And you truly can’t walk in her house for all the books she’s ordered for the shop.”
So Rosie’s was out. “What about you, Olivia?”
“You’re welcome to stay at my apartment.” But I caught her hesitation. Olivia lived in a converted one-bedroom apartment above a shop downtown. It was very chic, incredibly expensive, and profoundly tiny. “My couch is all yours. Or I might be able to fit a blow-up mattress on the floor of my office.”
