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“I promise. I’ll acquaint myself with soap in the very near future. Have fun at the retreat. I love you,” she said with a pasted-on grin. Her emotions were all over the place. Irritation coursed through her veins at the thought of Landon and some random nanny. Anger roiled in her chest at the thought of losing the house. And she might be twenty-six years old, but she still hated to be separated from her grandmother.
She sniffled.Do not cry.
She grabbed the box of bonbons, then hoofed it out the back door as she went over her conversation with Babs and one salient point stood out.
Madelyn was up to something.
Was she fishing for information? Was Landon about to get some random nanny?
And if he was paired with a woman, would he look at this nanny the way he looked at her?
This would be a terrific time to have her husband’s phone number to get some answers.
She had more than a few questions for the runaway pop star.
She got into Carol, slammed the old Volvo’s door, then crammed two bonbons into her mouth before reversing down the driveway like a brown bat out of hell.
She cursed herself for marrying the man.
The bolter.
The guy who hadn’t reached out to her since he’d said I do.
She gobbled down three more bonbons.
Forget her one-night stand spouse. It was time to focus on what mattered.
She had to figure out a way to make some fast cash. She couldn’t have the woman return home to find an eviction notice on the door.
“Come on, Grandad, send me a melody from the great beyond,” she said, then popped another bonbon into her mouth at a stoplight as a Vance Vibe song—no, a Harper Presley song pilfered by Vance Viberenski—blared on the radio.
The guy probably made enough from her music to pay Babs’ bills ten times over.
“Ugh,” she bit out, then reached for another bonbon, and…nothing.
She glanced at the box and found a few flecks of brown.
What the hell was she supposed to give Raz and Libby?
She couldn’t show up at the housewarming empty-handed.
She checked the clock. She had a little time.
She was only a couple of minutes away from the couple’s ritzy Crystal Acres neighborhood. She spied a gas station and pulled into the parking lot. Okay, a gas station wasn’t the ideal location to shop for a housewarming present. Still, her choices and her budget were limited. She cut the ignition, rifled through her wallet and found it empty, just like the bonbon box.
Dammit!
She opened the glove box. “Come on, Carol, there’s got to be some cash stashed in here.”
She rummaged through multiple pairs of broken sunglasses and more gloves than one girl could ever need, then gripped a slip of paper. No, not paper—a bill. A five-dollar bill.
“Bingo, bitches!” she hollered as an elderly woman walked past her car and clucked her tongue.
Was everyone on her case today?
She forgot the old bird, grabbed the fiver, and sprinted into the convenience store. She scanned the place like a rabid beast searching for prey, then zeroed in on the perfect housewarming gift.
Perfect might not be the best way to describe a wilting houseplant in a ceramic pot. But the pot was indigo—Libby’s favorite color.
