Page 54 of Sweet Poison

After those two calls, I could breathe easier and try to concentrate on settling down in Bison Ridge. I looked to the side to see that Anya was stirring several times. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at me. “Daddy,” she whispered.

“The ice cream put you down?” I asked.

She straightened in her seat. “Tolstoy was cute. Can we have a cat, Daddy?”

“Maybe. Let’s settle down first, okay?”

“Okeydokey.”

As we drove into our driveway, I was surprised to see a blue Toyota parked in front of our home. An obviously peroxide blonde wearing a pink dress got out of the car. She was carrying a box. Anya and I walked towards her. The sight of her surprised me. I never expected to see her type grow in the countryside. She was one of those completely plastic girls that thrived in big cities. Everything about her was fake. Her lips, her hair, her nose, her boobs.

“Yoo Hoo,” she called and raising her hand high above her head waved as if she was the heroine in a movie.

I raised a half-hearted hand.

“Well hello, Cole,” she cooed, before looking down at my daughter. “And you must be Anya. What a pretty little thing you are.” She looked up at me again. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Hi, Tiffany.”

I thought I’d bring you something I baked to welcome you.”

I took one look at those fake-ass fingernails and knew this girl didn’t even know where the kitchen was, let alone bake anything.

“That’s nice of you,” I said politely.

“We’re all nice around here,” she said and batted her eyelashes at me.

I blinked. I never knew women still did that. Wow! “Well,” I said, holding out my hand towards the box. “Thanks for the welcome gift.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t we all go in and I’ll put the kettle on and we can all have a piece of this delicious apple and blueberry pie.”

“Actually, it’s late and it’s nearly bedtime for this monkey here.”

“Oh, right.” Suddenly she dropped to her haunches and smiled at Anya. “I love your shoes. Gucci is the best, isn’t it? And this is the most iconic design of that whole line from the season. You, young lady, have excellent taste.”

“They’re not real,” Anya said quickly. I could hear the panic in her voice. “My dad bought them at the flea market. They’re fakes. We couldn’t afford the real ones.”

“Let me see,” Tiffany said with a frown, and lifted one wing of the butterfly on the shoe. “Hmmm.” Then she stood and looked at me, and her face was contemplative. “Maybe I can invite you and your daughter to have some ice cream with me.”

“Yes, why not,” I said and forced a smile.

“Right then. I’ll be off, but no doubt I’ll see you around very soon.” She turned around and sashayed over to her car. We waved as she sped off.

“You want to have ice cream with her?”

“Nope.”

I laughed. “Bath time and an early night, don’t you think?”

"Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we ask Miss Moore to come over for dinner?"

I looked at her, surprised. "Why?" I asked, eager to hear her explanation.

"I like her. We have already gone to visit her, so it should be our turn to invite her over, right? It's only polite."

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