Page 16 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell

He stopped in the doorway with a scowl. “Seems like a good idea. I’d hate to thank her for you and piss you off by helping you out!”

She gasped as he closed the door on her and stomped across the crunchy snow to his car. As he pressed the automatic start, he climbed in with a curse.

Why are all the women in this town tough as nails and bat-shit crazy?

Chapter Six

“If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that things happen for a reason and fate doesn’t make mistakes…if you believe in that kind of thing.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

On the way to the hospital the next afternoon, Gracie turned onto Cherry Tree Lane when she saw the detour sign on Main Street. Whatever was going on was blocking traffic, and she couldn’t be late to meet Pip’s social worker.

Pip had fallen asleep almost as soon as she’d pulled out of the driveway. She’d woken Gracie up at about one in the morning, screaming. Since it was obvious she’d been having a nightmare, Gracie had let her snuggle in with her for the night. They’d had a full morning of blueberry muffins for breakfast with a bowl of fruit salad, and Gracie had opened several toys for her to play with. She still hadn’t started her online shopping yet, but she’d been having too much fun to care.

Gracie admired the trees that were shimmering white with frost from the frozen fog that had rolled through this morning. Amidst the winter wonderland, she noticed a redFor Sale by Ownersign in front of 905 Cherry Tree Lane and slowed the car. Her heart skipped excitedly as she stared at the white house with the gray trim. All the houses on this side of town had nice yards and were at least three bedrooms.

Perfect for someone who didn’t want to sleep on the couch for two weeks.

Of course, buying a home was a big step, but shehadbeen saving for the down payment. And since it was for sale by owner, maybe they’d be willing to carry the loan.

After parking in front of the house, she typed the number on the sign into her phone. She turned her Bluetooth ear piece on before she hit the green call icon on her phone and pulled out onto the road again.

“Hello?” a woman answered.

“Hi, my name is Gracie McAllister, and I was calling about your home for sale on Cherry Tree Lane. Is it still available?”

“Gracie? It’s Kirsten Winters.”

Gracie wished she could hang up the phone without looking like a tool. She liked Kirsten, but ever since she’d left with Eric during the Halloween Ball, Gracie had developed a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she saw her.

Maybe because I was a little jealous?

“Hey, Kirsten! I didn’t know you owned a house.”

“I don’t. It was my grandparents’. I’m just managing the property for them since they moved to Arizona. You’re interested?”

Part of Gracie wanted to say no, but it would be a bald-faced lie. And besides, she had no reason to be irritated with Kirsten. She and Eric were two consenting adults, and Gracie had no claim to him, didn’t even want one. He was a Neanderthal, and she was dating Darrin.

“Depends on the terms, yes, I am,” Gracie said coolly.

“It’s one hundred and thirty-nine thousand and eighteen hundred square feet. It’s four bedroom, three bath, and the backyard is just shy of half an acre since it’s a corner lot. If you want them to carry the papers and have at least twenty percent down, the payment would be nine hundred and twenty-six, not including home owner’s insurance for ten years.”

Gracie considered that. It would be faster, without the added fees of a bank. “Could I come by and look at it later today? Maybe four?”

“Sure, I can meet you there about four thirty, if that works.”

“Definitely. And thanks, Kirsten.”

“See you then.”

Gracie ended the call and turned up the radio, humming along to “This is How We Roll” by Florida Georgia Line, and considered her options. She could call Wyatt Carter at the Credit Union and talk to him about getting her a preapproval loan and pay for the house in full. Or at least have her lawyers draw something up.

Or, I could see if I even like the place before I jump the gun. First things first.

* * *

At the hospital, Gracie was surprised to find that Pip’s case worker was an old friend from her drama club days in high school. Viola Merryweather still looked like she was fourteen. An inch shorter than Gracie, with freckles and her copper hair pulled back in a twist, she smiled brightly.

“Gracie, it’s so good to see you.”

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