Chapter Eighty Seven
“No, it’s fine.” Tiffany said into the phone. Seconds later, she hung up, and stared blankly at the TV.
“What’s wrong?” Aralyn asked, not looking up from her tablet that she was studying on.
“Emme cancelled our plans for tonight,” Tiffany said quietly.
That made her cousin look up. “Again? That’s the third time in two weeks.”
Tiffany nodded, then stared at her feet.
“Is everything okay between you two?” Aralyn asked.
Tiffany shrugged. “Remember I mentioned she’s been kind of distant? Well, she’s been really distant lately, and going out to the clubs with her other friends.”
“You never go?”
“I went once, just to see, and it was pretty much what I expected. I didn’t enjoy it at all, it’s just not my scene. And I thought Emme was okay with that but she’s been going out more, even during the week.”
“Think there’s someone else?” Aralyn asked evenly.
Tiffany nodded. “Yeah, I do. The…spark doesn’t seem to be there anymore, but I really care about her,” Tiffany whispered, her eyes tearing up. “She’s always said men are disgusting in the way they sneak around and hook up wherever they can but…it feels like that’s what she’s doing.”
Aralyn moved next to her cousin on the sofa and hugged her. “Tiff, I know Emme cares about you. But please don’t be as dense as me and ignore the signs that things are headed beyond repair.”
Tiffany wiped a tear from her eyes. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“I didn’t want to lose Cam,” Aralyn said bitterly. “But I should have realized there was something going on deeper with him, and I didn’t. Have you talked to her?”
Tiffany shook her head. “I can’t seem to get her attention long enough. “
“Maybe it’s run its course then,” Aralyn suggested gently. “Not everything is a novel, sometimes it’s just a short story.”
“Ari…does this mean…I’m a bad lesbian? I mean, this is my first—relationship with a girl.”
Aralyn laughed. “No, Tiff, no more than I’m a bad heterosexual. It means you and Emme had a good run, but it’s ending. And I don’t know if you’re a lesbian. I think the proper term is bisexual, unless you’re completely done with men.”
Tiffany looked thoughtful. “I…don’t know. I still find them attractive.” Tiffany blushed. “I still enjoy sex with them. I don’t think I’ll ever forget John Ross.”
“Then skip the labels, Tiff, they’re stupid. But it doesn’t mean you’re a bad anything. It just means you two aren’t meant to go the distance, but it was a fun ride.”
“You sound very wise.”
Aralyn shrugged. “Voice of experience, is all. But I would tell her you need to talk to her. If she won’t make the time…that’s your answer I guess.”
“You’re right,” Tiffany sighed. “The summer started off so well. I don’t know what happened.”
“I’d chalk it up to a fizzle,” Aralyn said. “Take it for the experience of realizing you like both guys and girls. That totally opens up your dating pool, you know. Twice the options!”
“I do care about her, Ari. A lot.”
“I know,” Aralyn answered gently. “But if she has met someone else, or she just doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you deserve the truth. And don’t forget, you have a bossy, bitchy cousin who will march right up to her and find out what’s going on.”
Tiffany looked aghast. “Ari, no!”
Aralyn chuckled. “Then get you some answers, because being left to twist in the wind is crappy and you deserve better. A lot better.”
***
Natala stared at the box with her name and address on it. She didn’t recognize the handwriting but she didn’t like the energy coming off the box. It felt threatening and yet not. She didn’t want to touch it.
The garage door opened and a moment later, Aralyn walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, cuz,” she greeted Natala.
“Hi.”
“What’s wrong?” Aralyn studied her cousin. “What’s that?”
“A package.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Aralyn said sarcastically. “From who?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Ooo, a mysterious package,” Aralyn teased. “Does Dean know?”
“Ari…would you open it?” Natala asked.
Aralyn set her bag down, studying her cousin. “You’re really freaked about this.”
“It feels…bad.”
“Sure.” Not teasing anymore, Aralyn picked it up and studied it. “I can’t imagine Duncan sent you something bad.”
“It’s from Duncan?”
Aralyn nodded. “I recognize his writing. I don’t know why he didn’t put a return address, but he must be traveling, it’s postmarked from California.”
Natala cocked her head to one side as if listening to something.
Aralyn took the kitchen scissors and cut the tape open. The box was only about five by five inches, and not overly heavy.
Opening the box flaps, she raised one eyebrow. “It’s a watch.”
“A what?” Natala leaned over to see.
“A man’s watch. A nice one, actually, minus what I think is blood on it.”
“Blood?”
Aralyn took it out of the box. “There’s a card here for you.”
She handed the card to her cousin, who took it reluctantly, and watched with interest as Natala’s face drained of color, then came rushing back as she read the note.
“Can I ask?” Aralyn asked.
Natala handed the card to her cousin but didn’t take the watch. In Duncan’s handwriting were the words: Nothing to worry about anymore.
“I don’t get it,” Aralyn said. “What does this have to do with the watch?” She held it out to Natala, who stared hard at the watch. Natala’s expression changed several times over the next sixty seconds and finally she smiled.
“Ari, do me a favor?”
“Um, okay.”
“Either bury that watch somewhere far from here or sell it.”
Aralyn raised one eyebrow. “It’s a nice watch, could probably get about fifty dollars at a pawn shop, more with a reputable reseller, or maybe on eBay.”
Natala shook her head. “I don’t care what you do with it. Just get rid of it. It’s bad juju. Keep the money if you sell it. I don’t want it.”
Aralyn shrugged. “Sure. I’ll see what I can sell it for.”
“Thanks.” With a smile, Natala rose from the table.
As she walked upstairs, she felt the weight list off of her chest. Her abusive uncle was dead. It was the only way he would have parted with the watch. Somehow, Duncan had taken care of him. Without her uncle to run things, no one would come after her from the troupe. No one else cared about her, and it had all been a power struggle with him, to control her and the others.
Natala’s smile grew as she realized she was free of the past for good.
***
Tiffany sat across from her girlfriend, her heart aching. Emme was jumpy tonight, and had been reluctant to meet her.
Tiffany’s fingers curled around her coffee cup. Emme looked so pretty tonight, her bright green eyeliner highlighting her blue eyes. Emme didn’t reach for her hand, and wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“So, what’s up?” Emme finally asked.
“Are you seeing someone else?” Tiffany blurted out. She hadn’t meant to, but she thought about Aralyn, and what her cousin would say. Aralyn would get straight to the matter, she thought, so that’s what she did.
Emme paled. “I…”
“I just need to know if we’re over,” Tiffany said, wounded, trying not cry. “You’re acting like we’re strangers, and the only reason I can think of, is if you met someone else.”
Emme looked away. “I care about you, Tiff, I really do. But I met Joss a while back and I…I just can’t stop thinking about her.”
“You didn’t have the decency to tell me?” Tiffany whispered.
Emme’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought backing off would be easier.”
“So, sneaking around and lying to me is better?”
“It…I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”
Tiffany felt something in her let go. She rose, clutching her cup in one hand. “Congratulations, Emme, you’re behaving just like the men you claim to despise. Hope you’re pleased with yourself. Have a nice life.”
She turned and walked away, ignoring Emme calling her name. She would not look back, she would not beg Emme to take her back, she told herself. She had too much pride to do so. Held high, she walked to her car, got in and started the engine, and headed home before the tears came.
***
Jim loosened his tie. The memorial service would be local this evening, in Sleepyside. Only the family would be there, plus Ben Riker. Hallie hadn’t had any friends other than him. Jim wondered if he was to blame for that, insisting Hallie at Ten Acres to raise the kids. Bernie had done an excellent job making the arrangements so the Beldens could focus on their family.
Hallie could have returned any time to her career, and she chose not to. Don’t blame yourself for this. Brian’s words echoed in his head but Jim couldn’t help wonder how much direct influence he had had on Hallie’s mental state, and how much of this was really his fault. Their marriage had never been happy, and he had insisted she be home to raise the kids. He wanted the idyllic family he had had with his parents, before his father had died. But Jim wasn’t Winthrop and Hallie had never been anything like Katje.
Hallie’s father Harold had arrived late the night before. He had called Jim, with the intent to come over but Jim told him no, the kids were asleep and he wouldn’t wake them up.
Which meant Harold had rolled up to the cottage in his rental car, full of fury and vitrol. Harold Belden was the older, masculine version of Hallie, and started in on Jim immediately. He had never forgiven Jim for getting Hallie pregnant and causing her to give up her career.
Jim wanted to be patient with Harold. Hallie’s oldest brother, Knut, had been killed by a drunk driver when Byron was a baby. Cap had left home at eighteen to get away from Harold, headed to Montana, away from people. Jim had no way to reach him and didn’t know if Harold or Angela had tried. He and Hallie hadn’t heard from him in years.
“So, you finally pushed her to suicide,” Harold snarled in greeting, when Jim opened his front door.
“Nice to see you too, Harold,” Jim sighed. He had been expecting this. Hallie’s mother, Angela, who had divorced Harold years ago, and would be landing soon and had said she’d meet them at the funeral parlor. Jim hoped she would be sober. Hallie’s affection for alcohol had started early from her mother’s stash. Jim wasn’t surprised that Angela required copious amounts of alcohol to deal with Harold Belden.
“It was an accidental overdose, like I explained on the phone,” Jim said. He had been prepared for this. They had already argued on the phone over her cremains.
“Call it what you want, you drove to her drink so much she ended up in that place,” Harold snapped.
Piss off, Jim thought. “Actually, that would be you and your ex-wife’s doing. And I would appreciate it if you’d curb your asshole-ishness in front of my children.”
Harold snarled at him as he barged in, bumping Jim’s shoulder in the process.
Peter had heard his brother’s voice and came to meet him in the entryway. “Harold.”
“Christ, Peter, I asked you to look after my daughter and she’s now dead!”
Peter’s handsome face flushed red with anger at his brother’s accusation. “Hallie was an adult when she came here, Harold, and I did my best. Maybe if she had had a better upbringing and wasn’t so miserable, she might still be with us!”
Harold’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “You dare blame me for my daughter’s death?” he roared.
Brian Belden was between them then, pushing his uncle back from his father. Harold had always brought out the worst in everyone, Brian thought grimly, and there had always been contention between his father and uncle.
“For the love of God, Uncle Harold, show some decorum!” he snapped. "Your daughter is dead and your grandchildren are upstairs!”
Harold was staring his younger brother down, ignoring his nephew, when Dan Mangan joined them.
“Problem, fellas?” he asked.
Harold bit back his fury. Mangan was not someone he wanted to tangle with. The Deputy Marshal radiated danger, yet Harold wished for the millionth time that Dan was his son-in-law, not the redheaded orphan Hallie had chosen to be with.
“Grandpa?” a small voice asked.
They turned to see Regan, his red hair sticking up, contrasting with his dark suit.
“Hey, Champ!” Harold boomed in fake happiness, holding out his arms.
But it was Peter that Regan went to, and Harold’s eyes narrowed. Peter lifted the small boy and hugged him. Regan eyed Harold.
“You remember Grandpa Harold,” Peter said gently. “He’s your mother’s father, my older brother.”
Regan nodded, studying his grandfather. He had only met him a couple of times in his young life, whereas he saw Peter almost daily. Peter suspected the boy was afraid of Harold and his anger.
“Kinda runty, isn’t he?” Harold said.
Dan growled and Brian bristled. “He’s perfectly sized for his age, and as his pediatrician, I would know.”
“Harold, why don’t you come into the living room?” Dan asked, his tone making it clear that it wasn’t a request.
Harold finally did so, sending a dark look at Jim.
“I’ll handle him,” Dan murmured to Jim.
Harold had taken a particular shine to Dan years ago; which Jim had wondered if it was because Hallie had raved about him so much.
“C’mon, son, let’s go outside and get some air,” Peter took Jim by the arm. Bo and Trixie were in the living room and he knew between them and Dan, Harold would be kept in check. His daughter had never had a problem telling her uncle to stick it.
“You’d think after all these years, he’d stop being such an ass to me,” Jim sighed.
“He’s been an ass from the day he was born,” Peter said angrily. “But he has no right to come in here and start being one to our grandchildren!”
They went out to the porch of Ten Acres when a shiny, new black sedan pulled up. The chauffeur got out and hurried to the side to open the door. Matthew Wheeler got out, dressed in a tailored, expensive dark suit, then turned to extend his hand to his wife. Madeleine Wheeler wore an elegant black suit that hugged her trim figure, with a black pillbox hat and veil atop her coiffed, honey-colored hair.
Matthew hugged Jim, as did Madeleine. They had flown in from Japan in the wee hours of the morning.
“How are you holding up, son?” Matthew asked gently.
Jim shrugged. “It’s the kids I’m worried about. Plus, Harold is here, and Angela will be at the funeral parlor, if she’s sober enough to make her flight.”
Matthew grimaced. “Is Harold showing his ass?” Matthew asked.
Jim nodded. “Dan has him under control, but he started to get into it with me and Peter and he called Regan runty.”
Matthew’s green eyes blazed with fury at the insult to his grandson. “I’ll show him runty!”
“Matthew, calm down,” Madeleine said, putting one hand on his arm. “Everyone’s emotions are running hot right now and you throwing down with the likes of Harold Belden won’t help anything.”
“You’re right,” Matthew grumbled. “But damn, I’d like to give him what-for!”
Jim felt better with his parent’s presence. Matthew and Peter had been close friends for decades, but Matthew and Harold had never gotten along. Harold resented the Wheeler’s wealth, and Madeleine considered Harold a crude and callous brute.
“Her remains?” Matthew asked.
Jim rubbed his eyes. “Bernie suggested the cremains be split, so Harold could take some back with him, and I can put the rest in the Belden plot. That way the kids can visit someday if they want.”
“Excellent idea,” Madeleine said approvingly.
Harold was as acerbic as his daughter, and had called the funeral home, making threats if he didn’t get her remains. Despite being told repeatedly he had no legal right to them; he had kept at it until Jim finally acquiesced to her remains being divided when Bernie suggested it. Harold could take half home to bury, he would have the other half buried locally, where a number of the Belden family were. Hallie had hated Idaho, and fled as soon as she could. Jim was half-worried she’d haunt him if he let her father take her remains.
Her will had been filed, though it was old. They had had their wills updated after Regan was born, providing for the children and naming guardians in case they both passed away. Hallie had no property of her own, everything was in their joint names or Jim’s. Jim’s lawyers would take care of submitting death certificates to have her name removed from the various policies. They also had large life insurance policies, but Hallie’s was being challenged due to her cause of death being an accidental overdose. Jim didn’t need or want the money, if it came through, he’d simply split it between the children’s college trusts. A private bank account of hers had already been revealed in the divorce filings. As the spouse, Jim automatically inherited the money. Jim added the it to the children’s trust funds.
Raised voices from inside interrupted their conversation. Jim bolted for the door when he realized it was Byron shouting.
The front door opened and Dan shoved Harold out of it, livid. Byron tried to follow but was grabbed into a bear hug by Brian and held back.
“I hate you!” the teenager screamed, fighting and kicking Brian. “Don’t you blame us for Mom dying! Don’t you dare!”
“What’s going on?” Jim demanded, dashing to his son.
“Grandpa said it was your fault Mom’s dead!” Byron howled.
“Get off this property now,” Dan snarled into Harold’s face, and the older man backed away, his face pale. “If you show up at the service, you better damn well keep your ugly mouth shut or I will drag your ass out of there in cuffs!”
Harold started to reply when he caught a glimpse of Dan’s gun under his suit jacket. The Deputy US Marshal was taller, stronger, younger, and definitely lethal, he realized.
“She was my daughter!”
“And she was my friend!” Dan said heatedly. “I watched you twist her up, Harold! I watched her mimic her mother with the drinking, and turn into another version of you when any little thing went sideways, but you do not get to show up here and start throwing blame at anyone but yourself! And if you even hint at this being the kids’ fault, I’ll bury you personally!”
Harold spun on his heel and stormed towards his car.
Brian finally released a struggling Byron and a stunned Jim pulled his oldest son to him in a tight hug.
Jim wished there was some alcohol in the house, but since he had thrown it all out to keep Hallie sober, he hadn’t bought any. And the urge to drink himself stupid was non-existent, considering his wife had done just that, taken a lethal concoction of pills, and died. But he wouldn’t have minded a long drink of it now.
Byron wiggled out of his embrace. “I hate him! He’s an asshole!”
“No, Byron, you don’t hate him,” Jim said quietly, ignoring the profanity. “I know he’s a hard man, but he’s grieving, just like we are.”
“He’s a shit father and a shit grandfather!”
Madeleine almost corrected him about the language but refrained. The boy was distraught and correcting his language wouldn’t help the mood or temper.
“I don’t much care for him either, Byron,” Matthew said with forced cheerfulness. “But let’s discuss it like adults, hmm? Tantrums are for little boys, and you’re almost a man now.”
“Grandpa!” Byron just now realized his other grandparents had arrived and rushed to hug them.
Jim breathed a temporary sigh of relief, grateful for the extra support.
*
“Dad?”
Jim was brought out of his thoughts by Val standing in the doorway. The service had gone relatively smoothly, with Harold keeping his mouth shut though glowering, and Angela having been sober enough to behave properly. They stayed away from each other, and after handing the children gifts, Angela departed for her hotel quickly. Jim didn’t see Trixie follow Angela outside and ream her for ignoring her grandchildren. Hallie certainly followed in her parents’ footsteps. Jim expected Angela to be on the next plane out, back to her condo in Florida. He was surprised she had bothered to show up; given the acerbic nature of his wife’s relationship with her mother.
The kitchen was full of casseroles and desserts brought by the Beldens’ church members. While Jim hadn’t been to church in years, he was prominent in the town and county, and many floral arrangements and condolences had been sent from associates and business partners of his and his father’s. The Beldens were one of the oldest and most respected families in Sleepyside.
“Hi sweetheart.” He held out his hand and she joined him, hugging him. Jim noted she was getting tall as well. Hallie had been taller than her cousin, around five foot ten, and he wondered how tall Val might get. “How you holding up?”
Val took her time answering. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she finally said. “Not really.”
“I know.” Jim knelt and brushed her hair back from her dark eyes. “I’m sorry about that, kiddo.”
“What happens next?” she asked timidly.
“What do you mean?” Jim sat at the table and let her sit in his lap, not caring that she was really too big to do so.
“Are we getting a stepmother?”
Jim almost laughed but shook his head. “There’s no one I care about like that, Val. And I would never marry again without talking to you kids. If, and I mean a huge freaking IF, that was ever to be an option, you and your brothers would be involved in that sort of decision.”
She nodded soberly. “What about Mom’s stuff?”
“Uncle Brian went over and picked it all up from the clinic. It’s at his place until your grandfather leaves.” No need to specify which grandfather. “We’ll go through things together when the time is right.”
“Why? Because Grandpa Harold is so mean?”
Damn, his kids were sharp, he thought. He really needed to give them more credit.
“Anything your mom had goes to you kids, if you want it. Grandpa Harold doesn’t want to accept that. He loved her too, but if you want her jewelry or anything, it’s yours. The money she had has been split between your trust funds. Anything you don’t want can be sold, with the money going to the trusts also.”
Val nodded again and rested her head on his shoulder. “Will Bernie be around more?” was the next question.
“Well, she’s running the school right now, sweetheart, so I can be here with you kids.”
“I like her. She braids my hair.”
Jim chuckled. “I like her too. But she has her own life, and Uncle Brian is pretty important to her. But if you need her, just call her. You’ve also got Moms, and your aunts, and your cousins.”
Val nodded. Jim waited for her to get to the real question she wanted to ask. Val had never been one to speak carelessly or off the cuff, and would often dance around the subject until she decided on what to say.
“Do you love her?” It finally came.
“Who?” Jim asked blankly.
“Bernie.”
That was a loaded question, he thought, Val had been watching him watch Bernie. He answered truthfully. “I am extremely fond of Bernie. She’s the best asset the school has and she’s invaluable to me. So, I guess in a way, yes. But not how you think. Not how I love you, or how I loved your mom. If you’re thinking of romance, Val, it’s out of the question. Bernie loves Uncle Brian, and he loves her.”
“I wouldn’t have minded her for a mom; she would have been a good one, better than Mom herself,” Val whispered. “Does that make me awful?”
Jim hugged her tightly. “No, sweetheart, it doesn’t. You mom wasn’t the most affectionate person, or fun, not like Bernie is. But Bernie is going to be another aunt to you, I suspect. And I know she loves you to pieces and will always be around if you need her.”
“What about you, Dad?” she asked. “Who do you have?”
Jim forced a smile at his daughter. “I have you, and your brothers, and our family. That’s all I need, kiddo. You kids are the most important things in the world to me, and you’re going to be my focus from here on out.”
Valerra hugged him tightly.
***
Tagging along with Daisy and Rayma for a quick trip to Paris had brightened the older girls’ spirits considerably. While Aralyn and Tiffany wouldn’t stay for all of Fashion Week, they would be able to see the city for a few days while Daisy and Rayma prepped. Natala had declined, not being comfortable with such a long flight. She wasn’t thrilled with the concept of flying.
SoTiffany and Aralyn had joined their cousins eagerly, ready for some fun before the new semester started. Aralyn had earned As in her summer courses and was feeling more confident about the new fall semester about to start. She had balanced out her GPA, and scaled back her fall classes and extracurricular activities. She needed top marks to become a Marshal, and she had to get serious about school.
After dropping their luggage at the hotel, the three cousins hit the shops; Rayma leading them to her favorite for cheese and pastries, and then a bit of whirlwind shopping. Aralyn and Tiffany hadn’t been to Paris for several years and were delighted to find their favorite chocolatier was still in business.
They had dinner in the hotel that night, and Rayma recognized a male model at the next table, and invited him and his friends to join them. Daisy was in a meeting so the girls were on their own.
Aralyn watched Rayma flirt outrageously with her friend Ricardo, and was enjoying the company of Jacques, Ricardo’s friend who was clearly interested in her. Tiffany was on her third glass of wine and giggling with Raphael, another male model.
Jacques had bright blue eyes that reminded her of Cam, and a beautiful smile. As the night went on, she found herself more and more interested in him, and didn’t mind when he sat right next to her, or slipped his arm around her back.
After dinner and drinks and dessert, the group went for a walk on the Boulevard Saint-Germain. The young men were delighted to speak English with the girls, which resulted in a lot laughter as they got words wrong. Rayma and Tiffany spoke French with them, but Aralyn just smiled and went along with it, only picking up an occasional word.
*
The cousins went to the bathroom while the check was being brought.
“You know what I’m thinking?” Tiffany giggled as she reapplied her lipstick.
“You’re going to need these?” Rayma held out condoms.
Tiffany burst into laughter and took several. Aralyn took the others.
“The guys usually have a suite, they make enough money to not have to be crammed in with ten others,” Rayma said. “They’ll have their own rooms.”
Tiffany gaped at her cousin. “How well do you know them?”
Rayma giggled. “Well enough to know that you’ll both have a good time if you choose.”
Tiffany looked hesitant but Aralyn held the condoms up in a mock toast. “We’re young, healthy, single women. Let’s go have some fun!”
When Rayma and Ricardo departed, Aralyn just chuckled. They were sharing a suite with Daisy at the famous Höschen Hotel, none of them could take a boy back to the room.
Aralyn watched with great amusement as Tiffany was kissing on Raphael on the sidewalk. If nothing else, they’d have some fun tonight, she thought.
*
It was late when the cousins left the boys' suite. Jacques and Raphael walked them back to their hotel, and parted with a lot of kisses and promises to see them again before they left.
Rayma wasn’t in the suite yet and Daisy’s door was shut, so the cousins tried to keep their giggles quiet.
“Was it good?” Aralyn whispered, once they were in their room.
Tiffany blushed and nodded. “Not like, John Ross good, but yeah. You?”
Aralyn smirked and nodded. “Yeah. I feel more relaxed than I have in ages. Jacques tried to get me to spend the night and I was tempted.”
“Me too. But I think I’m going to shower before bed. I smell like sex.” Tiffany chortled.
Aralyn giggled. “Same.”
The cousins had just gotten into bed when the door opened and Rayma poked her head in.
“All good, cousins?” she asked with a mischievous smile.
Still giggling, the cousins gave her two thumbs up.
***
The next day they spent shopping, and were joined by the boys for dinner. Fashion Week opened the following day and all of the models had been busy rehearsing. The cousins spent another night with the boys, before the opening show, where they would be sitting front row for Daisy Duke Designs.
***
“I miss Paris already,” Tiffany said wistfully as the plane went airborne. "The chocolate and pastries!"
“I miss the cheese,” Aralyn laughed. “And I won’t deny I miss Jacques a little.”
“Same,” Tiffany reclined her seat back. “But at least we had some real fun before school starts up again!”
Meet the cast in full & see the family tree!
Author’s Notes
- a giant yee-haa! To Ronda, my lovely editor. All mistakes are mine!
- Word Count, 4,989
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