“I am, and I can’t wait to catch up with you.”
“I’m sure there is very little of your life that I will approve of,” Constance guessed.
“Mom, she was abducted and only just escaped,” Kellen said.
Constance fingered the cross at her neck. “I told you dressing like a jezebel would cost you. It seems as though you’ve learned nothing since you left.”
“Okay, you know what, lady?” Nick began.
But Kellen stepped in front of him and slapped a hand to his chest. “Don’t.”
Nick knew all he had to do was tickle his friend in the ribs and he could get around him to give Constance the Cactus a piece of his mind. But it wasn’t worth it.
“Always a treat to see you, Connie. Let me know if you need any help zipping up your Satan suit for trick or treat.”
“Get out of my house,” Constance said, pointing toward the door.
He grinned. “My pleasure.”
Back on the sidewalk, he pulled out his phone.
Nick: Remind me to introduce you to Weber’s mom someday. She’s a peach.
Riley: Really?
Nick: No! She’s a horrible person. It’s a miracle her kids didn’t turn into mass murderers.
Riley: There’s still time.
Nick: How are you and the Not So Woolly Mammoth feeling?
Riley: Less like death. More like garbage.
He started to ask if she wanted him to pick up dinner, but Kellen and Sesame exited the house and joined him on the sidewalk.
“Well,thatwas warm and fuzzy,” Nick said. “I can see where Weber gets the stick up his ass, but I can’t figure out how you turned out the way you turned out.”
Sesame gave a hair toss. “She can’t help being her any more than I can help being me. I just learned the easiest ways to get around her.”
It was true. The Beth he’d known had been a gifted liar, deploying her skills to stretch and change the truth for her own benefit. She was charmingly manipulative. He’d often thought that she would have made a good undercover cop.
Weber’s phone rang, and he answered it with a brisk “Weber.”
“That’s his work voice,” Sesame whispered, eyes twinkling.
“How can you tell?” Nick asked as they stood shoulder to shoulder.
“His voice dropped half an octave, and that line between his eyes got deeper,” she said, pointing at her brother’s face. “Remind me to recommend a plastic surgeon. A little Botox would smooth that tell right out.”
Beth, on the other hand, didn’t have any tells. She could lie straight to your face, and you’d never know it. She’d always had a gift for rewriting reality to suit her.
“Very observant. How come you never became a cop?” Nick asked.
She laughed. “Have you ever met a rich cop?”
“Only the crooked ones.”
“Exactly. Besides, I prefer to have more fun making money.”
