Read Online Here Comes Trouble by Kathy Carmichael - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathy Carmichael
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hoping to receive an up-tothe-minute report on the developing romance di rectly from the source, Quin's mother. She had
assured them that he was still at the park, cavorting
with the creature he seemed to think was a dog.
"Mrs. Gordon called." Debby's expression was
grim. "She said Quin is still intending to leave."
"What could have gone wrong?" said Mrs. Tipplemouse sadly.
"I'm disappointed in your son. Toying with my
daughter's affections in a cavalier way-"
"From what I heard," said Debby, "Your daughter started it by grabbing him and kissing him-"
"Ladies," said Cait with a bit more vigor than
necessary in such an overcrowded room.
They turned to face her.
"This is only a small setback," she continued.
"From what I understand, it's Stella who's putting
up the resistance. We'll continue as we planned,
with, perhaps, a tiny addition."
"What did you have in mind?" asked Miss Tipplemouse.
"Our secret weapon."
A shocked silence lasted only seconds, then total chaos reigned.
"You don't mean-"
"You can't intend-"
"Not-"
"-Ian Andrews."
The name of the five-year-old terror struck fear into the hearts of the entire populace of Littlemouth.
"If Quin were required to rescue Stella from the
evil clutches of the little-darling, surely that
would be romantic enough to turn the tide to our
favor?"
"Let's go for it," said Prissy Goody. "How
could my daughter resist?"
"Quin always enjoyed playing the hero," added
Debby. "It's just the touch we need."
"Brilliant thinking," said Miss Tipplemouse.
"Well done, Cait."
When Quin slammed into the house only seconds later, they each jumped as the door banged
shut, then grabbed the book they planned to discuss when Quin arrived.
Debby stood. "Quin, dear, I hadn't expected you
home quite so soon."
"Playing with Tramp wore me out." Quin took
a seat on the stairs facing the living room where
they were all gathered like witches in front of a
cauldron-at least he supposed that thing in the
middle of his mother's front room was a cauldron.
It could be a wash pot, he supposed, although he
was certain he'd never seen either turned into a
coffee table before.
His mother automatically asked, "Are you feeling well? Do you want some chicken soup?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Thanks, but no soup." Quin pointed to the book each of the Troublemakers
held, entitled, All Through the Day and Night, by
the bestselling novelist Constance Howard. "Is that
Constance Howard's new book?"
Janice nodded, something akin to an evil nod if
there was such a thing, leading him to assume
Howard's latest must be even more titillating than
her previous bestsellers.
Miss Tipplemouse clutched the book to her
bosom and sighed melodramatically. "I'll say,"
she said.
"I've been looking forward to reading it," he
added as further bait, but still they didn't take him
up on it and clue him into the discussion.
Cait Boswell stood and smoothed the wrinkles
from her skirt. "You know, Quin, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Prissy gasped. "You promised, Cait!"
Now this was getting good. Maybe there was
some hot Littlemouth gossip to be had. Quin
hitched up his pants legs.
"I most certainly did not promise. I agreed to
take it into consideration-and I have." She
smiled and all their faces became watchful. Too
watchful.
Man, this was going to be good. "What have
you meant to tell me, Cait?"
"You aren't the only famous writer in Littlemouth."
The entire room quieted enough to hear a pin
not only drop but also roll. "I'm glad to hear that,"
he said. "I've had a problem bearing up under the
pressure."
At that, his mother extended her copy of Howard's book to him. "Look at the author's picture."
With everyone's attention fixed on him, Quin
realized for the first time that he might not like
hearing what Cait had to say. What was going on?
What did a writer of sensationalist fiction have to
do with Littlemouth?
Pulling open the back cover, he skimmed the
short
assured them that he was still at the park, cavorting
with the creature he seemed to think was a dog.
"Mrs. Gordon called." Debby's expression was
grim. "She said Quin is still intending to leave."
"What could have gone wrong?" said Mrs. Tipplemouse sadly.
"I'm disappointed in your son. Toying with my
daughter's affections in a cavalier way-"
"From what I heard," said Debby, "Your daughter started it by grabbing him and kissing him-"
"Ladies," said Cait with a bit more vigor than
necessary in such an overcrowded room.
They turned to face her.
"This is only a small setback," she continued.
"From what I understand, it's Stella who's putting
up the resistance. We'll continue as we planned,
with, perhaps, a tiny addition."
"What did you have in mind?" asked Miss Tipplemouse.
"Our secret weapon."
A shocked silence lasted only seconds, then total chaos reigned.
"You don't mean-"
"You can't intend-"
"Not-"
"-Ian Andrews."
The name of the five-year-old terror struck fear into the hearts of the entire populace of Littlemouth.
"If Quin were required to rescue Stella from the
evil clutches of the little-darling, surely that
would be romantic enough to turn the tide to our
favor?"
"Let's go for it," said Prissy Goody. "How
could my daughter resist?"
"Quin always enjoyed playing the hero," added
Debby. "It's just the touch we need."
"Brilliant thinking," said Miss Tipplemouse.
"Well done, Cait."
When Quin slammed into the house only seconds later, they each jumped as the door banged
shut, then grabbed the book they planned to discuss when Quin arrived.
Debby stood. "Quin, dear, I hadn't expected you
home quite so soon."
"Playing with Tramp wore me out." Quin took
a seat on the stairs facing the living room where
they were all gathered like witches in front of a
cauldron-at least he supposed that thing in the
middle of his mother's front room was a cauldron.
It could be a wash pot, he supposed, although he
was certain he'd never seen either turned into a
coffee table before.
His mother automatically asked, "Are you feeling well? Do you want some chicken soup?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Thanks, but no soup." Quin pointed to the book each of the Troublemakers
held, entitled, All Through the Day and Night, by
the bestselling novelist Constance Howard. "Is that
Constance Howard's new book?"
Janice nodded, something akin to an evil nod if
there was such a thing, leading him to assume
Howard's latest must be even more titillating than
her previous bestsellers.
Miss Tipplemouse clutched the book to her
bosom and sighed melodramatically. "I'll say,"
she said.
"I've been looking forward to reading it," he
added as further bait, but still they didn't take him
up on it and clue him into the discussion.
Cait Boswell stood and smoothed the wrinkles
from her skirt. "You know, Quin, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Prissy gasped. "You promised, Cait!"
Now this was getting good. Maybe there was
some hot Littlemouth gossip to be had. Quin
hitched up his pants legs.
"I most certainly did not promise. I agreed to
take it into consideration-and I have." She
smiled and all their faces became watchful. Too
watchful.
Man, this was going to be good. "What have
you meant to tell me, Cait?"
"You aren't the only famous writer in Littlemouth."
The entire room quieted enough to hear a pin
not only drop but also roll. "I'm glad to hear that,"
he said. "I've had a problem bearing up under the
pressure."
At that, his mother extended her copy of Howard's book to him. "Look at the author's picture."
With everyone's attention fixed on him, Quin
realized for the first time that he might not like
hearing what Cait had to say. What was going on?
What did a writer of sensationalist fiction have to
do with Littlemouth?
Pulling open the back cover, he skimmed the
short
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