Page 69 of Rebel Bride
“Tilly-Billy, you are such a big girl! How ya been?”
“Good. I found a snail in the garden.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds like the best place for it.”
My mom grinned. “She was exploring with Franky earlier.”
Francesca St. James was Rosie’s stepsister and a world-renowned expert on snails and slugs. Someone had to do it, I supposed.
“You’re getting heavy, Til. What have you been eating?”
“Cheerios. And naan. And bag-it.” That was baguette. My girl was a bread fiend. “But Mommy won’t let me eat snails. Franky says they eat them in Fratz.”
“Yeah, I heard. Sounds gross.” I set her down on the counter stool and took a seat beside her. “Everything okay here?” I asked my mom.
“Not bad. Conor is doing the hockey camp with your dad, Jason, and Gunnar this week.”
Every year my dad, former Rebel Gunnar Bond, and my uncle Jason indoctrinated the youth at the Rebels Hockey Camp. It held special meaning for them as it was how my dad and his half-brother Jason became close after Dad connected with my grandpa Nick later in life. This was Conor’s first year and my third.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” It would be good to focus my mind on something else.
“And Landon’s working on his app thing.” Conor’s twin Landon was a software whiz, about to launch a dating app that did something no other dating app did … I had no idea what he was doing to separate it from the pack, but I trusted my brainiac brother would make it work.
“Where’s Aurora?”
“Meeting with her Tai Chi girls for lunch. How’s the cottage? Did you get some rest?”
“Uh huh. Nice and relaxing.”
She tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and gave me a look that pierced right through my bullshit.
“What?”
“I had a chat with Gemma. From the coffee shop in Saugatuck? She said you came in one morning with a pretty blonde.”
I’d forgotten Gemma and my mom were buddy-buddy. “Just someone I chatted with over coffee. No big deal.”
“She sent me a photo.”
“And?” I brazened it out. I’d have heard about it by now if Summer’s presence in Saugatuck was common knowledge.
“She had a ball cap on, so her face was hidden.”
“Imagine that. Someone who would prefer privacy in this crazy media-conscious day and age.”
My mother grinned. “So you won’t be bringing this mystery woman home to meet the family?”
“No, Mom, I will not. Any news on the contract front with Dad?”
Mom looked at me squarely. “What do you think about it?”
“I think that Dad must be so”—I covered Tilly’s ears—“fucking tired. You, too, Mom.”
She laughed. “A little. But your father keeps me young.”
“You said I keep you young, Mommy!” Tilly looked up from her Cheerio art.
“Such a smart girl.” To me, she said, “He’s loved playing with you on the same team, but sometimes I worry that you get overshadowed in the Theo Kershaw show.”
