“To the funeral.”
“The what? We can’t go to the funeral.”
“We need to look for clues. I’m addicted to your candy. I can’t have Taylor Grace shutting you down because she’s jealous and crazy. I’m a sugar addict.”
“Okay, soooo…”
We stare up at Dr. Merriweather’s office in the middle of the block on Fourth Street. The sounds of the Christmas market are a dull murmur.
Josie grins. “Let’s do a little breaking and entering.”
“Oh my god, we’re going to get arrested.” I tug half-heartedly at the door with Dr. Merriweather Psychiatry etched on it in faded gold lettering. “It’s locked. Too bad.”
“You give up too easily.”
“What are we, breaking the glass? We need a key, or—” I look up at the window above me. “A monkey?”
“Nope, we’re going through the window. And right on schedule.”
She beams at three little blond boys, who toddle up, trailed by a surly teenager, nose buried in his phone. He grunts in greeting. The triplets dance around Josie as she claps her hands.
“Hellooo! Hello! Hi!”
“Hi!” they squeal. Then they turn to me. “Hi!” They surround me, hugging my legs.
My heart melts.
Part of me wished I could have kids like Josie. But I don’t have a steady job or a business. I live in the shed in the back of my granny’s house, and I’m surrounded by crazy people. So…
I really need Santa to bring me debt relief, not a baby for Christmas.
“Can you boys get up there?” Josie points at the window.
“Yeah.” They nod. “Yeah, yeah, we got it.”
I frown then look at the teenage brother. “Hey, Calvin, is this normal?”
He shrugs. “Crawford just took the triplets to Boston with him to break into someone’s house, so I guess Josie can do it too.”
The triplets have already shucked their shoes and socks and are scampering up the drainpipe to the window.
“That’s it, there you go! Yep, crowbar that up. Whoo, they’re in!”
In half a second, the boys have scampered down the stairs. One jumped on the other’s shoulders so he could flip the dead bolts.
“And we’re in!” Josie whoops. “Nice!” They slap her a high five.
I hold out my hand for a high five as well.
“There better be money in that fist bump, lady.”
“Oh, you!” Josie pokes one boy in his round little belly.
He giggles.
“Here.” She hands them several twenties.
The teen perks up.
