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Which meant I was laughing when Chloe came in.
She was carrying two large, handled paper bags, both that had a simple design of a river with some rocks through which were the words River Rain.
And she was not feeling in the mood to keep us guessing.
She started this with, “Where’s my martini, Bowie?”
“Honey, I got a rule. Before the liquor comes out, food goes in the stomach. So tell me what sandwich to make you. You eat it, I’ll pull out the vodka,” Bowie replied.
“What’s happening, Chloe?” I asked.
She dumped the bags and stomped to the island.
“I’ll tell you what’s happening, and prepare, Bowie,” she said to Duncan. “You’ll be needing to fire somebody.”
Uh-oh.
I let Killer down (she wanted to greet Chloe anyway) because Duncan had had experience with Chloe. And he was a mature man and father of two sons. So he’d been trained to be aware and assessing of children, their moods and their words, no matter their age.
But Chloe was not yet a mother, nor had she had a long-term boyfriend, though she was an adult, but barely.
So she had not quite taken in all that made Duncan.
And therefore, intimating that she’d been done wrong by one of his employees was not the way to handle whatever bee was buzzing her bonnet.
Before I could intervene, she found out.
“Who?” Duncan barked, and Chloe jumped. “And what did they do?”
“Uh, Judge,” she said uncertainly.
Duncan’s head twitched in confusion.
“Judge was uncool with you?”
Whoever this Judge was, apparently, this was out of character.
“Okay, before this—” I tried.
“He made fun of me,” Chloe shared.
“Judge? Judge Oakley?” Duncan queried.
Definitely out of character.
“I don’t know his last name. I think he’s kind of a higher up.”
“Yeah, Chloe, he doesn’t even work in the store. He’s in charge of our Kids and Trails program.”
“What?” Chloe asked.
“It’s a nationwide thing we do. Along with some fundraising Judge does to build the program, River Rain pays for field trips, mostly for inner city kids in low-income areas. We bus them out to national parks and take them on hikes.”
Oh wow.
I didn’t know he had that program.
How lovely.
My daughter sniffed. “Well, I got the sense it wasn’t his department when he butted into me buying boots.”
“Corporate offices are attached to our Prescott store,” Duncan explained.
“Oh,” Chloe mumbled.
“And he was a dick to you?” Duncan asked.
“He made fun of my booties.”
I sighed.
Duncan stared at her.
“They’re Jennifer Chamandi,” she stated, as if that meant anything to Duncan.
“Are you sure he wasn’t teasing you or maybe flirting with you?” Duncan suggested.
“Well, yes, considering we got into an argument that I’m afraid to say was somewhat heated, on both our parts, and loud, on just my part, about how the cost of my booties would fund an elementary school lunch program for a year, which they would not. I’m very aware they’re not exactly inexpensive, but they aren’t covered in diamonds. Though I don’t need some guy making me feel shitty because I’m privileged. I’m not unaware that I am and just because I don’t take inner city school kids on hikes for a living, and instead, make women feel pretty for a living, I shouldn’t be made to feel like crap.”
Duncan was opening the bread, muttering, “I’ll have a word with him.”
“No, you won’t,” I said.
Duncan looked to me.
Chloe, who had picked up Killer and was cuddling her, looked to me.
“Mother,” Chloe said.
I kept my eyes to Duncan. “She can fight her own battles.”
“I don’t pay my staff to have opinions about my customers’ lifestyles,” Duncan returned.
“Huh,” Chloe huffed to Killer, then cooed, “So true, what your daddy is saying, googoo.”
“Duncan,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
I gave him a look.
His eyes moved over my face.
It took him a few moments, then he nodded.
“Motherrrrrrr,” Chloe whined.
I looked to her. “Is my daughter honestly standing beside me, after having an argument she should not have participated in at all, but who, let’s face it, Chloe, you probably did something to set it off, and now you’re all right with this young man’s employer having a word with him because you’re in a snit?”
“He was a jerk,” she snapped.
“Rise above,” I ordered.
“I try very hard not to rise above. It takes too much energy,” she sniffed.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
Deeply.
“You’re very annoying, and thus tonight, I’m not inviting you to my luxurious log cabin suite and opening a bottle of wine for us to make mother-daughter memories.”
“That would be opening a bottle of Duncan’s wine,” I corrected. “Seeing as you’re mooching off him.”
“I am not a mooch,” she bit out.
“Darling,” I said softly.
She rolled her eyes, her indication it was a point she could not argue, and then stated, “Fine. You don’t get the riding boots I bought you so you can ride because I know because I gave Mary very explicit instructions about the apparel she was supposed to bring that you don’t have any suitable footwear to wear riding. And I also know you love riding, so you’ll have to go yourself to get something or not ride at all.”
