area.
“It’s going to be a very long ride home,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes at her husband and kissing Stella’s cheek. “Where’s George?”
“At the grill.” Stella motioned them further into the house. “So this is where we live.” Her parents scrutinized the decorations, the mess, and her appearance; she could see it in their eyes. “Dad, why don’t I get you a scotch and you can go help George with the food?”
“Sure,” he said, following her into the kitchen. Her father had aged since she’d seen him a few months ago; his white hair somehow looked whiter and his wrinkles had multiplied.
“You okay?” Stella asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” he almost grunted. He took the drink and walked outside on the back porch.
Her mother walked around the walls of the den, looking at George’s art. Stella poured her a glass of Chardonnay that her mom liked and walked over to her.
“Thanks. These pieces are lovely. Who did them?” She took the wine from Stella not taking her eyes off the paintings lining one wall of the den.
“Thomas Arvid. He’s from Atlanta so you probably recognize them.” Stella smiled and walked back into the kitchen. “All of his work is focused on wines. That one on the right is George’s favorite. It’s called ‘Friends in Town’ and has all his favorite wines.” She went back to preparing the salad and busied herself in the kitchen, trying not to be bothered by her dad’s appearance. All parents get old, right?
“Oh, he’s always involved in the Atlanta wine festival. I have seen his work before. I love it.” Her mother walked toward the kitchen. “Can I help?”
“I got it handled.” Stella took a sip a wine and sprinkled the roasted pine nuts over the salad.
George came in and gave her mother a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Murphy,” he said jovially before turning to Stella. “Hey, Love, it’ll be about twenty more minutes on the chicken.” He slapped her ass and went back outside.
Her mother’s face tightened at their public exchange. “Did you take care of my car?”
“I sure did. She’s ready for you to have back, washed and full of gas.” Stella smiled. “Thank you so much for letting me borrow it.”
“Well, I wish your father would just let you have it. I’m happy to give it to you.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I had my eye on a new little two-door BMW.”
Stella laughed at her mom and winked. “Not a word out of me. You should’ve told me that and I would’ve wrecked it.”
Miranda tucked her black bob behind her ears and shook her head. “That’s not funny, Stella. What are we going to do with you?”
Stella didn’t comment, only asked her mom to help set the table in the dining room that Stella had never eaten in. George brought in the chicken and vegetables and Stella got everyone’s salads done and on the table. They were just sitting down for dinner when her dad starting asking the questions she’d been avoiding for the past month and a half.
“So did they find out about the car? How it got here?”
And here we go… “So Jamie somehow got it here.”
“What!?” her dad yelled and jumped out of his seat.
She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but it looked like her mother and George were. Stella had told her dad the basics of what happened after Key West, including the fact that Jamie shot her. She’d been putting off this conversation. She’d asked him not to tell her mother everything, but she wasn’t quite sure how much she knew about Jamie’s involvement.
“Stella Eugenia Murphy. Why the fuck haven’t you told us this before now?”
“Damn, Dad, watch your language,” she deadpanned.
Miranda looked stricken and sick all of a sudden. “I thought—”
“What does this mean?” Stella’s dad boomed in the small dining room.
“As you’re aware, there was a bomb and a death threat waiting for me when I got back to town.” Stella shrugged. “It just turned out to
“It’s going to be a very long ride home,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes at her husband and kissing Stella’s cheek. “Where’s George?”
“At the grill.” Stella motioned them further into the house. “So this is where we live.” Her parents scrutinized the decorations, the mess, and her appearance; she could see it in their eyes. “Dad, why don’t I get you a scotch and you can go help George with the food?”
“Sure,” he said, following her into the kitchen. Her father had aged since she’d seen him a few months ago; his white hair somehow looked whiter and his wrinkles had multiplied.
“You okay?” Stella asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” he almost grunted. He took the drink and walked outside on the back porch.
Her mother walked around the walls of the den, looking at George’s art. Stella poured her a glass of Chardonnay that her mom liked and walked over to her.
“Thanks. These pieces are lovely. Who did them?” She took the wine from Stella not taking her eyes off the paintings lining one wall of the den.
“Thomas Arvid. He’s from Atlanta so you probably recognize them.” Stella smiled and walked back into the kitchen. “All of his work is focused on wines. That one on the right is George’s favorite. It’s called ‘Friends in Town’ and has all his favorite wines.” She went back to preparing the salad and busied herself in the kitchen, trying not to be bothered by her dad’s appearance. All parents get old, right?
“Oh, he’s always involved in the Atlanta wine festival. I have seen his work before. I love it.” Her mother walked toward the kitchen. “Can I help?”
“I got it handled.” Stella took a sip a wine and sprinkled the roasted pine nuts over the salad.
George came in and gave her mother a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Murphy,” he said jovially before turning to Stella. “Hey, Love, it’ll be about twenty more minutes on the chicken.” He slapped her ass and went back outside.
Her mother’s face tightened at their public exchange. “Did you take care of my car?”
“I sure did. She’s ready for you to have back, washed and full of gas.” Stella smiled. “Thank you so much for letting me borrow it.”
“Well, I wish your father would just let you have it. I’m happy to give it to you.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I had my eye on a new little two-door BMW.”
Stella laughed at her mom and winked. “Not a word out of me. You should’ve told me that and I would’ve wrecked it.”
Miranda tucked her black bob behind her ears and shook her head. “That’s not funny, Stella. What are we going to do with you?”
Stella didn’t comment, only asked her mom to help set the table in the dining room that Stella had never eaten in. George brought in the chicken and vegetables and Stella got everyone’s salads done and on the table. They were just sitting down for dinner when her dad starting asking the questions she’d been avoiding for the past month and a half.
“So did they find out about the car? How it got here?”
And here we go… “So Jamie somehow got it here.”
“What!?” her dad yelled and jumped out of his seat.
She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but it looked like her mother and George were. Stella had told her dad the basics of what happened after Key West, including the fact that Jamie shot her. She’d been putting off this conversation. She’d asked him not to tell her mother everything, but she wasn’t quite sure how much she knew about Jamie’s involvement.
“Stella Eugenia Murphy. Why the fuck haven’t you told us this before now?”
“Damn, Dad, watch your language,” she deadpanned.
Miranda looked stricken and sick all of a sudden. “I thought—”
“What does this mean?” Stella’s dad boomed in the small dining room.
“As you’re aware, there was a bomb and a death threat waiting for me when I got back to town.” Stella shrugged. “It just turned out to
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