“Stop reading those military romance books.”
“No.Or, his older sister had the baby, then got killed in a horrific car accident when the baby was in the NICU, and she went out to buy a breast pump.So Lennox stepped up, and Uncle became Dad.Too early, but he did it anyway because he’s a stand-up guy.”
She glanced up at me again.“Another romance book?”
“I diverted from the plot a little.She was killed in a mall mass shooting, not a car accident.But otherwise … yeah.That’s not the point though.The point is—”
“The point is, I think we have the right to know who this newcomer is hanging out with our kids.”
The look she gave me reminded me of Jolene Dandy and the face she’d made earlier today when she said that she didn’t have school-aged children, so it was basically my responsibility to keep her informed.It wasn’t any of her goddamn business.Just like it wasn’t any of our goddamn business who a man who seeminglyappearedto be just over the age able to rent a car, had a thirteen-year-old daughter.
None.Of.Our.Business.
An uncomfortable heat began to prickle like acid in my belly, and I reached out and covered Gabrielle’s phone with my hand, stopping her investigation.“Stop.This feels icky.”
She met my gaze.“We have a right to know who our kids’ new principal is.”
“Yeah, but he also has a right to privacy, Gabs.We didn’t want our dirty-ass laundry aired to the island and kept it a secret for years.For good reason.Maybe he has good reason too.And until he gives us a reason to question his position at the school, I say we let it go.We’ve raised wary kids.They know enough about our past now to not let anything shady get swept under the rug.And if this new dude starts acting weird, we’ll hear about it.We have to trust our kids.We have to trusthim.For all we know he could be in WITSEC or something.”
Gabrielle frowned for a moment, but I could see she knew I was right.After a second, she nodded and closed her phone.
“Promise me you won’t go Googling him or calling your private investigator buddies to do some digging?The last thing we need is his identity getting out to the wrong people.People he might be running from.”
She sighed.“Let’s just hope the people he’s running from aren’t the cops, or the parents of the child he’s kidnapped and is calling his own daughter.”
I scoffed.“Would you stop listening to those fucking podcasts?You have murder, kidnapping, and true crime on the brain.You think everyone is a secret serial killer.”
Smirking, she stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her dark-gray, wide-legged trousers.“I’ll stop listening to my murder podcasts if you stop reading those smutty, slutty romance books with the sticky pages.”
“First of all, they’re not slutty.And ‘smutty’ has a bit of a negative connotation now.We prefer ‘spicy.’And the pages aren’t sticky.I read on my e-reader for convenience, and I use a vibrator I don’t have to hang on to, fuck you very much.”I stuck my tongue out at her as I headed to the back room again.“And besides, my books are inspiring.They’re feel good, and give hope.That true love does exist, and happily ever afters do happen.Your podcasts just remind us that men like our husbands aren’t as rare as the world assumes, and the number of unsolved murders—of women—is outrageous.”
She followed me into the back room.“I feel like if I had the time and energy to dedicate to being a homicide detective, I’d solve over half of these cold cases.”
“I’m sure you do,” I muttered.“Just like die-hardGrey’s Anatomyfans believe they could perform a Whipple, they’ve watched enough on TV.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon sipping from our favorite rosé and chatting about the upcoming grape season.It was supposed to be a hot summer, which meant sweet grapes hanging heavy on the vine.We never had a problem hiring seasonal staff to come work the vineyard, but what there continued to be on the island was a lack of accommodation.
Yes, there were campsites and cabins to rent, a hostel, and some short-term, dorm-style housing for fishing guides down on the docks, but it still never seemed to be enough.
Because tourists also wanted to come to the island.And they had more money, and more flexibility to book the accommodations first.
This was why one of our main objectives with Bonn Remmen’s land was to build more staff housing.Dorms and small “couple” dwellings for seasonal staff.Because at the moment, we had a deal with the water taxi company.At six in the morning, they would pick up the seasonal staff for the vineyard who couldn’t find lodging on the island, bring them across, and then take them back to Seattle at six at night.Yes, they were long days, but we gave them multiple breaks, paid very well, and even offered benefits.The applications for staffing were already pouring in, and poor Gabrielle was having to sift through the rough to find the diamonds.Of course, we always hired returning staff first, then opened up the hiring to new employees if there were still positions to fill.
Gabrielle headed home before I did to finish making dinner.I took another thirty minutes to send Raina a new comprehensive list of what we’ll have on the tasting menu.Since a few of the wines we had on it last year wouldn’t be returning to it this year, she’d need to order new menus to be printed.
It was still light out, and my Hacky Sack enthusiast son was not out in the yard when I finally stalked across the property, through the trees, and down the stepping stone pathway to our cottage.
I’d pulled a frozen bag of homemade turkey chili out of the freezer this morning, and it was in the slow cooker.So I was pleased as punch to open the door and smell chili.
Honor was already back, after having baked the rest of the day away with her cousins, and both she and her brother were at the kitchen table doing their homework.
I walked around behind them and pressed a kiss to the top of each of their heads.“Dinner will be about ten minutes.”
Austin grunted.
Honor said, “Okay.”
About a dozen double-chocolate with white chocolate chunk cookies sat in a container on the counter next to the slow cooker.I carefully opened the lid, determined not to make a peep, and grabbed one.I was starving, and since I was an adult, didn’t have to wait to have dinner before my dessert.
