Page 100 of The Usual Family Mayhem

Jackson was at work. Gram and Celia were engaged in baking prep. We’d talked and thought about poison enough for the past few days—for a lifetime, really—so I could concentrate on something much more important. Cupcakes. The delivery schedule had referenced a bridal shower and a children’s charityevent. Both required cupcakes, which meant there would be unused batter waiting for me in the baking annex.

I walked in expecting to find the room humming with activity. The ladies baking. Maybe an assistant or two flitting around. None of that was happening. Gram and Celia sat at the table drinking tea. Celia was willingly sharing Gram’s pitcher of sweet tea, which meant Celia was either trying to calm Gram down or trying to convince Gram of something.

Either way? Not great.

“What’s going on? I was looking for a tub of unused batter and a spoon.”

Neither of them answered me. Celia pointed to a bowl on the counter and the spatula balancing on its edge that had something that looked delicious on it.

Tempting, but the sugar fix would need to wait until I waded through whatever this was.

I sat down, dreading the incoming conversation. “What happened and how bad is it?”

Gram poured herself another glass of tea. “Harlan is on his way over.”

“Oh, come on.” He did not give up. Some people might praise his tenacity. Not me. “Good grief, why? What now?”

His not-so-gentle suggestion that I leave or the business could lose clients repeated nonstop in my head. He hadn’t directly issued an ultimatum but came damn close. I hadn’t filled in Gram and Celia. With all the conversations and information bouncing around, I’d left them out of this one. Harlan clearly planned to drag them in.

“He’s bringing a man he wants us to meet.” Celia’s voice sounded rougher than usual, as if she’d been arguing with Gramfor quite a while before I walked in. “A man who has a business proposition for us.”

Oh, no...

Gram snorted. “It’s the beady-eyed rat.”

The perfect description of Brock. “Okay, I still have the same question. Why, as in why agree to a visit? You are not selling. End of story.”

“True, but Harlan wasn’t going to stop pushing, so we offered to hear him out,” Celia said.

She sounded so calm. So unemotional. That shook me more than the idea of Harlan strutting in here, throwing his weight around, and unleashing hell.

“We’ll listen for as long as we can tolerate this nonsense, then we can say no and throw Harlan and his sidekick out.” Gram made her famouspfftsound. “At least this time Harlan remembered his manners and asked first before dropping in.”

Good job, Harlan.He finally got something right.

“A showdown of sorts was inevitable.” Celia took a sip of tea then put the glass to the side. She’d probably had enough sugar in that one mouthful to last a week. “Harlan is relentless. Always looking for new angles. He thinks he can pummel us into submission with his charm.”

Gram made a grumbling noise that was tough to describe. “He’d have to go find some charm first.”

“He’ll lose this round, then eventually come crawling back again, with a different proposal and new players, and try again,” Celia said.

“So, why bother to entertain him now?” I knew the answer. They’d agreed for me and for Jackson. Gram and Celia spenttheir lives trying to make things better for us, trying to protect Jackson from Harlan’s pressure and interference.

We were all so busy helping each other and being secretive about it that Harlan had slinked in when our defensive shields were down. When this was over, and it had to end soon or my thumping headache might become permanent, I needed to sit down with Gram and Celia and explain that it was time they put themselves first. They’d given enough.

“We’ll keep doing this until Harlan tires himself out or he finds a more lucrative business opportunity,” Celia said.

They knew him but did they know he viewed himself as their pastry savior and wanted to take over? “That’s a lot of attention from a guy who thinks your business is a hobby.”

“If he says anything like that today I’m going to make him a funeral pie. Neither one of you can talk me out of it.” Gram sounded serious.

“Let’s stay positive.”

Celia had to be kidding. She also had to know giving Harlan any opening was a mistake. I might not be a lawyer, but I knew that. “I think we shouldn’t—”

One sharp knock then the annex door opened. Harlan and Brock stepped inside. They both wore dark suits and sunglasses. They held folders no one sitting at the table wanted to see. They shared a smarmy vibe. They marched in sync.

Matching jackasses.

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