Page 4 of Things Left Unsaid

“I don’t know what kind of business goes on in hell, but nothing’s as bad as we imagine.”

“Helpful, Tee. What would I do without your moral support?”

“I live to serve. Oh, wait, that’s her. She probably gets a real kick out of sucking off Satan in her spare time.” At my glare, she mumbles, “Okay, she might not be a demon but she’s surely one of his lieutenants.”

Wishing I could argue inGrand-mère’s defense when I know she'd terrify a Satan’s Sinner, I swallow, close my eyes, gulp, then hit the ‘connect’ button.

“About damn time!”

That’sGrand-mère’sgreeting.

Ninety-two going on forty-two, mygrand-mèrehas been terrorizing the small town of Pigeon Creek in Saskatchewan for each and every one of her years. The only break the gen pop got was after her folks shipped her off to a boarding school in Switzerland when the family had money.

Even as a baby, she was worthy of doomsday stories—I have that on good authority from the priest who baptized her before he died.

No, she didn’t have anything to do with his death.

Although…

Juliette McAllisterismore petrifying than a sawed-off shotgun and has a worse bite than a rabid dog.

In fact, gimme the rabid dog bite over this phone conversation.

“Sorry,Grand-mère, did I miss your call?” I greet, keeping my voice nice and light.

“You know you did,” she growls, forcing a shiver out of Tee and making her sign the cross on her chest.

Shoving her aside, I press my finger to my lips to hush her. “I’ve been very busy at work.”

“If you say so.” I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

In her opinion, the only thing worse than a lawyer is a murderer…

Go figure.

And being a paralegal in her eyes is worse still because I’m not good enough to be a lawyer, ergo I might as well be a murderer.

Double go figure.

“Is everything okay? Are the triplets alright?”

She harrumphs. “You’d know if you ever visited the Bar 9.”

“It’s not so easy to get home,Grand-mère. You know how expensive the flights are. It’s not as if we’re the Korhonens and have a helicopter.”

“That fool boy of theirs, the youngest, broke that damn toy. They got themselves a plane.”

I can hear the jealousy in her voice—it’s practically oozing from every word she utters.

“Maybe you can hitch a ride in that plane,” Tee whispers in my ear, making me jolt in surprise at her proximity.

Then, I get why—she’s stress-eating another damn cookie.

I flip her the bird but, to my grandmother, murmur, “Is there a reason you phoned,Grand-mère? I have to take a work call in five minutes.”

“Liar, liar,” Tee sings.

“Is someone there?”Grand-mèredemands.

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