Page 36 of Wasted On You

“Hi, Diedre.” Kip walked over, effectively cutting off Ivy’s biting retort. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Well, thank you. And likewise. I’m glad you’re back,” she said lightly, with a smile. It was the Kip Lafferty effect. He was hard to resist. The smile faded when she turned to her daughter. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again considering Ivy’s latest stunt.”

“It’s part of her charm, don’t you think?”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

Kip slipped his arm around Ivy’s shoulder. “She sure likes to keep things interesting.”

Ivy gave him an elbow and stepped out of his embrace. “Wine, mother?”

“I’d love a nice glass of chardonnay.”

“I’ve only got Pinot Noir or Chianti.”

“One should always have at least a good Chardonnay in the house. Not everyone loves the reds.”

“Water then?” she replied cheekily.

“The Chianti will do.”

Ivy grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard and made a face. Once it was poured, she handed it to her mother and nodded toward the island. “I’ve got some food if you’re hungry.”

“It’s dinnertime, Ivy. Of course, I’m hungry.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and slid onto the stool farthest from her mother. She grabbed a napkin and piled it up with meats and cheese, and a few crackers while her mother made little mini hors d’oeuvres before she settled down. Once she had her seat, she wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter.

“Now, what are we going to do about the Mike Paul situation?”

Ivy nearly choked on a cracker. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Mom, it’s for charity. It means nothing.”

“Well, the ladies in my pickleball club?—”

“You play pickleball?” Ivy interrupted.

“Yes, I play pickleball.”

“I can’t picture you playing pickleball. Don’t you sweat?”

“No. I have a mini fan attached to my hat.” Diedre’s made a sound. “Of course, I sweat. That’s the point. Don’t change the subject.”

Busted.

“I don’t want to talk about Mike Paul and the auction.”

“Well, I do. How could you do that? Bid on him when you’re wearing another man’s ring?”

“It’s not a date.” Ivy looked at Kip. “He’s not worried about it, so why should you?”

“It’s all anyone is talking about. Well, that and the fact that Melinda Danby drank too much champagne and passed out in the photo booth with her skirt up around her neck. That girl is a train wreck.” Diedre popped a grape into her mouth. “I mean, Mike Paul. Really.”

Diedre Wilkens had never liked Mike Paul. Or Cal Bridgestone, for that matter. She had a general disdain for any male who crossed her path and didn’t try very hard to hide it.

“He’s always been trouble.” Diedre grabbed her wine glass and looked over the top of it at Ivy. “At least the Bridgestone boy made a name for himself.”

“Mike Paul is a veterinarian. I think he’s doing okay.” Ivy’s fingers tightened on the stem of her glass.

“And his sister? Did you hear Cobi had a baby on her own? I heard that Mike Paul was in the delivery room with her. Can you imagine?”

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