Page 27 of Eleven of a Kind

“I don’t have a mom. She died a few months ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Then I have to call your dad.”

“Oh, my God, don’t. He’ll kill me. Please. I’m begging you. I’m really sorry.”

“Take your pick. Your dad or the police?”

“Whatever. Call my dad. But just so you know, you’re the one who will be responsible for my death.”

“You’re being dramatic, Riley. What’s his number?”

I grabbed my phone, and she rattled it off.

“He’s probably in with a patient, so he might not answer.”

“He’s a doctor?” I asked as I held the phone up to my ear.

“Yep.”

After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Piper Primrose from Primrose Boutique in Santa Monica. I have your daughter, Riley, here, and I need you to come to my store. I’ll text you the address and explain when you get here.”

“Told you he wouldn’t answer,” she said.

I stared at her, for she reminded me of myself when I was her age.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, Riley.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She looked down. “I don’t know why you just can’t let me go. I said I’m sorry and I’ll never do it again. In fact, I’ll never step foot in this store again.”

“Like I said, stealing is an offense and should not be taken lightly.”

My phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Is this Piper Primrose?”

“Yes.”

“This is Dr. Gabriel Kind. I just got your message. What is going on?”

“I’ll explain when you come to pick up your daughter.”

“I have one more patient to see, and then I’ll head over there.”

“That’s fine. She’ll be here.”

“Did he sound pissed?” Riley asked me.

“A little.” I softly smiled.

Her phone pinged. After reading her text message, she held the phone up to me.

“Whatever you did, you’re grounded for life!”

“See, I’m dead. You will come to my funeral, right?” she asked.

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