Page 7 of Things Left Unsaid

“Speak of the devil,” Tee taunts when she connects the call.

“I’m still not talking to you,” is our mutual BFF’s grumble.

“Sounds like it to me.”

I rub my temple. “Can we not bicker, children, please? I already have a headache.”

Checking my blood sugar, I sigh when I see my level has reverted to normal. Because she’s nearer the cupboard where I keep my snacks, I ask, “Hand me a granola bar?”

“Zee’sgrand-mèrecalled,” Tee informs Parker as she tosses one to me.

“What does the old witch want?” Parker’s fingers clack as she types in the background. “Blood? Eye of newt? A bible bound in human skin?”

“Don’t put that into the universe, please,” I grouse after taking a big bite of my granola bar and continuing with my task.

“She wants Zee to come home.”

“Why?”

Grunting when my coconut turns into a brown banana after applying too much pressure to the piping bag, I let Tee explain the situation.

“She didn’t say. Just expects her there by the end of the week.”

Parker whistles. “I could ask Rachel to construct an emergency?”

Anxiously, I grab the bag of powdered sugar. Scooping a couple teaspoons into a clean bowl, I tip milk and dye in next. As I stir the concoction so I can work on the sand surrounding the palm tree, I mumble, “You don’t need to do that. Rachel has plenty going on without my drama.”

“Maybe you’ll luck out and some serial killer will need a lawyer?” Tee asks, tone hopeful.

Parker hoots. “You’re sick in the head, Tee, I swear to God.”

“That’s why you love me. Isn’t it, Parker? Huh? Huh?”

“I do when you don’t try to drag me out of my house. Where I’m comfortable. Where I can wear pajama pants all day. Where I don’t have to see people.”

Tee sniffs but my eyes widen in horror when my screen lights up again, this time with a notification from my bank, informing me that I’ve been wired enough cash to buybusiness classtickets, never mind economy for the flights home.

Tee whistles. “That’s a lot of zeroes.”

“What is?” Parker, ever nosy, demands.

“Zee’s grandma wired her over some cash to buy plane tickets.” She holds out her hand to high-five me. “Hey, we could fly home together! It’s been ages since we’ve been back.”

For a reason.

My brow puckers in confusion until she drops her hand. “Where did she get all this from? She was asking me for help with a mortgage payment two months ago. No way she’d have swallowed her pride if she had this kind of cash on hand.”

“Maybe the ranch had a better season than expected?”

“The ranch never has a good season anymore, Tee,” I dismiss.

“What else could it be? It’s not as if you have alternative income streams.”

“No, we don’t.” My stirring reaches an agitated fever pitch.

“You’ve never told me why you both hate going home,” Parker inserts, fingers still clacking against her keyboard.

“It’s cold, Parker,” Tee says with a mock shiver. “Real cold. Have you ever heard of seasonal affected disorder? You think it’s bad in New York, but it’s nothing compared to Pigeon Creek.”

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