Page 6 of Merry Little Mishap

“Just a light moscato. Something to soothe the headaches.BOYS!”

I dropped my phone, and it tumbled to the floor.

Marty barked.

“How about wavy?” Mrs. Caporali asked, sucking on a sharpened, peppermint candy cane. “My granddaughter, Dorothea, hasverywavy hair. In fact, I’d consider it curly.”

“Seems like a stretch if I’m being honest.” I arched a brow.

Mrs. Caporali was as cunning as a used car salesman, but as patient as a monk. You’d think after two years of trying to persuade me on this that she’d give up by now. I was such an idiot to think that.

“She’s stacked, you know…” Mrs. Caporali picked up my phone, eyebrows wiggling. “You could use her bosoms as a shelf for your tools! She’s got a great pair for all your future babies.” She demonstrated, her hands held out, cradling the weight of imaginary double-Ds.

My eyes widened.

“That’s good to know…” I took my phone back, blowing powdered sugar off the screen. “I have a lot of tools though. Let me think about your proposal.”

Was she serious?

The last thing on my mind was babies, especially with my nephews screaming on the other end of my sister’s call.

“Who was that?” Tiffany asked.

“A tenant,” I whispered. “I think she keeps breaking her smoke detectors to get me over to her house. She’s not even hiding the evidence anymore. The hammer she used to smash the last one is still in the bathroom sink.”

“She must have the hots for you.” Tiffany snickered.

My nephews oohed and whistled behind her.

“I think she’s trying to pawn me off to her granddaughters… A harem for the holidays.”

“Oh… gross!” she echoed into her wine glass. “Listen. Can you bring some dinner for the boys tonight?”

“Dinner? Wait… I thought you were making a ham?”

“Plans changed.”

“How so?”

“Hank’s bringing that blonde bimbo, Barbara, over for Christmas dinner.”

Oh, god. Not Bimbo Barbara.

My heart sank at her tone. I was already dreading this evening.

“Why don’t you tell him no, Tiff?” I suggested kindly.

She didn’t take it well.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?”

Tiffany took a long breath.

“And how would I say that without sounding totally scorned, Nicky? Like…no Hank, you can’t bring that tapered waisted floozy you cheated on me with to our family dinner, you scumbag.”

Marty’s ears perked from Tiffany’s voice.

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