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Authors: Denise Swanson
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help him be a better person?”
May shook her head. “Don’t imagine you can change a man unless he’s wearing a diaper.”
Skye had had enough. She’d been startled awake after less than five hours of sleep and scared out of her wits, and now her mother was telling her how to manage her love life. “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home. Feel free to rummage through my drawers, write Luc a Dear John letter, or clean my kitchen—whatever makes you happy.”
May’s mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, but she recovered quickly. “Just remember I told you so, when this all blows up in your face.”
Skye stalked out of the room, not dignifying her mother’s last comment with a reply. She made her bed, stripped off her nightshirt, and stepped into the shower. As the hot water poured over her, she deliberately emptied her mind but still found herself humming a tune she hadn’t heard in a while. What were the words?
Opening the shower door, she wasn’t surprised to see Bingo sitting on the bath mat. He and May did not get along, and he generally hid whenever Skye’s mother visited.
The melody in her head kept playing as she dressed in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt. Just as she finished French braiding her hair, the name of the song popped into her mind. It was an old Pam Tillis hit, “Mi Vida Loca.” How appropriate. She had been humming “My Crazy Life.” The tune seemed to come to her whenever she was about to make a fool of herself.
Somehow Skye wasn’t surprised to find her mother still there when she came out of the bedroom. May had indeed been cleaning and polishing, which seemed to have calmed her down. Skye sat on the sofa and raised her voice above the noise of the vacuum cleaner. “Have you heard if they’re shutting down the bicentennial activities?”
“The committee decided that the show must go on. Allthe workers will wear black armbands, but it was just too hard to tell all the people to leave. Besides, what would they do with the food and prizes and everything?”
“True. I wonder who would want to kill Gabriel Scumble? Did he know anyone in town?”
“No. I remember Charlie saying they had a hard time tracking down a descendant of Pierre’s. He would have been easy to find if anyone in town knew him.” May turned off the vacuum cleaner and started rewinding the cord. “It must have been a robbery.”
“Yeah, that makes the most sense. Poor guy. Quite an honor.” Skye reached down to scratch Bingo, who had followed her out of the bedroom.
May tsked. “When are you going to get rid of that cat? How can you stand the dirt?”
“What do you mean? Cats are very clean; they’re always washing themselves.”
“Cats are not clean; they’re just covered with cat spit.”
“Mom, that’s awful. You know what I read the other day? People who hate cats are going to come back as mice in their next life.”
May grimaced. “Ew!”
Skye smiled to herself. Direct hit. “I’d better finish getting dressed. I want to check on Frannie and Justin. They seemed okay last night—I think TV, music, and video games have made kids immune to being shocked about death—but I want to make sure they’re still fine this morning.”
“Poor kids.” May put away the vacuum cleaner and picked up her purse. “I’ve got to run too. I have a hair appointment at eight-thirty, and your brother better do a good job this time. Last week he made it look too round.”
Skye’s brother Vince was a hairstylist and owned a local salon. Everyone except May thought he was a genius with hair. For some reason, she always found something to criticize.
May paused at the door and said grudgingly, “Bring Luc to Sunday dinner.”
“What?” Skye was floored that her mother would invite her ex-fiancé to a meal.
May’s smile was calculating. “If he’s wanting to reconcile with you, it’s probably a good idea for him to meet some of your family. He never met anyone but me, Vince,
May shook her head. “Don’t imagine you can change a man unless he’s wearing a diaper.”
Skye had had enough. She’d been startled awake after less than five hours of sleep and scared out of her wits, and now her mother was telling her how to manage her love life. “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home. Feel free to rummage through my drawers, write Luc a Dear John letter, or clean my kitchen—whatever makes you happy.”
May’s mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, but she recovered quickly. “Just remember I told you so, when this all blows up in your face.”
Skye stalked out of the room, not dignifying her mother’s last comment with a reply. She made her bed, stripped off her nightshirt, and stepped into the shower. As the hot water poured over her, she deliberately emptied her mind but still found herself humming a tune she hadn’t heard in a while. What were the words?
Opening the shower door, she wasn’t surprised to see Bingo sitting on the bath mat. He and May did not get along, and he generally hid whenever Skye’s mother visited.
The melody in her head kept playing as she dressed in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt. Just as she finished French braiding her hair, the name of the song popped into her mind. It was an old Pam Tillis hit, “Mi Vida Loca.” How appropriate. She had been humming “My Crazy Life.” The tune seemed to come to her whenever she was about to make a fool of herself.
Somehow Skye wasn’t surprised to find her mother still there when she came out of the bedroom. May had indeed been cleaning and polishing, which seemed to have calmed her down. Skye sat on the sofa and raised her voice above the noise of the vacuum cleaner. “Have you heard if they’re shutting down the bicentennial activities?”
“The committee decided that the show must go on. Allthe workers will wear black armbands, but it was just too hard to tell all the people to leave. Besides, what would they do with the food and prizes and everything?”
“True. I wonder who would want to kill Gabriel Scumble? Did he know anyone in town?”
“No. I remember Charlie saying they had a hard time tracking down a descendant of Pierre’s. He would have been easy to find if anyone in town knew him.” May turned off the vacuum cleaner and started rewinding the cord. “It must have been a robbery.”
“Yeah, that makes the most sense. Poor guy. Quite an honor.” Skye reached down to scratch Bingo, who had followed her out of the bedroom.
May tsked. “When are you going to get rid of that cat? How can you stand the dirt?”
“What do you mean? Cats are very clean; they’re always washing themselves.”
“Cats are not clean; they’re just covered with cat spit.”
“Mom, that’s awful. You know what I read the other day? People who hate cats are going to come back as mice in their next life.”
May grimaced. “Ew!”
Skye smiled to herself. Direct hit. “I’d better finish getting dressed. I want to check on Frannie and Justin. They seemed okay last night—I think TV, music, and video games have made kids immune to being shocked about death—but I want to make sure they’re still fine this morning.”
“Poor kids.” May put away the vacuum cleaner and picked up her purse. “I’ve got to run too. I have a hair appointment at eight-thirty, and your brother better do a good job this time. Last week he made it look too round.”
Skye’s brother Vince was a hairstylist and owned a local salon. Everyone except May thought he was a genius with hair. For some reason, she always found something to criticize.
May paused at the door and said grudgingly, “Bring Luc to Sunday dinner.”
“What?” Skye was floored that her mother would invite her ex-fiancé to a meal.
May’s smile was calculating. “If he’s wanting to reconcile with you, it’s probably a good idea for him to meet some of your family. He never met anyone but me, Vince,
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