Ah.The pillow said something about God loving purple. Perhaps it explained why there was every shade of purple imaginable decorating the room.
By the time they returned to the kitchen, Blythe tried to make eye contact with Ricki to give her thewhat the fucklook, but she could never catch Ricki’s gaze. Was Ricki avoiding her on purpose?
Abby pulled out a large charcuterie board and placed it on the weathered table. “What would you like to drink?”
Blythe wanted to shoutbeer, but she didn’t.
“Looking at this board,” Ricki said, “I think a glass of merlot or pinot grigio would be perfect.”
Abby pointed to a wine rack. “Help yourself.” She pulled plates from the cupboard.
When they were seated, Ricki smiled at Abby and said, “The Great Gatsby.The Hobbit.1984.Practical Magic. AndThe Color Purple.”
What the fuck?Had Ricki just gone into a fugue state? Had the kitchen put a witchy spell on her?
Abby laughed and clapped her hands. “Excellent, but you missed one.”
“I know.” Ricki rubbed her chin. “And it’s pissing me off.”
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Blythe blurted out. “Did I just enter the Twilight Zone and nobody told me?”
“I didn’t think she had a clue,” Ricki said with a chuckle. “I couldn’t look at Blythe the last two rooms for fear I’d burst out laughing.”
“When you called the spare room a hole, I thought her eyes were going to pop out.” Abby chuckled.
“Okay, the joke’s on me. What did you two cook up?” Blythe said.
“I promise,” Abby said, holding up her hand as if she was being sworn in, “we didn’t rehearse this.”
“What the hell isthis?”
“It’s literary,” Ricki said. “All of her rooms have a literary theme—based on a book.”
Realization dawned on Blythe as she studied the kitchen, trying to remember the book names Ricki had rattled off. “Practical Magic,” she nearly shouted. “I nailed it when I thought the kitchen was made for witches.”
“I bet that had you worried.” Abby sidled up next to Blythe and wrapped her arm around her waist. “Did you think I was gonna put a spell on you?”
“You already have.” Blythe winked. “But I thought you had Ricki talking in tongues when she started spewing book titles.”
“She still hasn’t figured out the bedroom,” Abby said with a smile. “How long before she gives up?”
“Oh, she doesn’t give up easily.” Blythe grinned. “But it will drive her crazy the rest of the weekend.” Blythe let out an evil chuckle. “Payback for her letting me think I’d—no, you’d—lost your mind.”
Ricki glared at them through squinted eyes. “Quiet, I’m thinking here,” she said, turning her back on them.
“You didn’t think the place suited me when you saw it, did you?” Abby said in a near whisper.
“No. The living room was so flashy. And your bedroom. Wow! You’d said you were nervous being on camera, but your bedroom looked like you aspired to be a fifties starlet.”
Ricki spun around and pointed at Abby. “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.”
Abby threw her head back and laughed. “Damn. You’re better than I thought. You got them all.” Then a mischievous smirk lit her face. “But Blythe gets an assist on the last one.”
Blythe perked up. “Yeah, I get the assist.”
“Do you even know why?” Ricki said.
“Yeah. Uh…because…I said…um, something.”
