Page 121 of Dirty Pool

She needed to make friends here, didn’t she?

“I don’t know what that sound was for, Catty,” Catrina said from the doorway, “but you better correct it.”

Catherine rolled her eyes and stood from the couch. “You’re a little intimidating, that’s all, Ma. Don’t have a stroke.”

“Catherine.”

“I’m not wrong, though.” Catherine winked down at Gabbie and smiled. “Her bark is way worse than her bite—watch out for the claws, though. They’re the real killers.”

She could tell Catherine was just trying to poke at her mother, and it was amusing. Not to mention the way Catrina fumed in the doorway.

“Stop making up lies about me,” Catrina said, a smile starting to grow. “I don’t bark, Catherine. I enunciate words like a proper fucking lady, and use them like knives to cut people down, as anyone would. And if someone isn’t doing that, well that’s a damn shame, because they should.”

Jesus.

“I would love to make bread with you,” Gabbie said, standing from the couch as well. “A wee bit late for it, though, isn’t it?”

Catrina gave her daughter a look. “See, she’s going to be fine.”

“Mmhmm. Watch the claws, Gabbie. That’s all I’m saying.”

Catherine drifted from the living room soon after, which left Gabbie alone with Catrina.

Waving a hand for her to follow, Catrina turned away from the entryway as she said, “Making bread is how I decompress, and think. No one around here complains when there is always fresh bread to eat.”

“I do like bread, but …”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a good whole wheat recipe? I’m a type two diabetic, and—”

Catrina turned fast, almost making Gabbie bump into her at the same time. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Catrina rubbed her hands together. “I’ll check what I have, but if I don’t have what we need, then we can call one of my sisters-in-law. They’ll have the rest.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I do. Now come on, let’s go cook.”

Catrina didn’t need to call for more ingredients; they ended up finding everything in the home’s very large pantry. Gabbie was still a bit overwhelmed at how large the home was, and she thought her childhood house was huge. Not to mention, from the outside, the place looked like an upscale family lived here, but inside?

That’s where the wealth was.

And it was everywhere.

“Yes, those are real gold-plated spoons,” Catrina said as Gabbie eyed the utensils that had been haphazardly thrown in a cup to make coffee. “They don’t get any use unless I put them there, and people still hesitate.”

“Because it’s gold, maybe?”

She was not unaccustomed to wealth.

They lived a good life.

This was not the same.

Catrina made a noise under her breath as she pushed a bag of flour across the island to Gabbie. “Possibly. Get it opened, hmm?”