Or did I do something else?
“Always happy to pass on hugs,” I report to Mimi.
“And that’s why you’re my favorite grandson.”
“How’s your new chef working out?” Distract. Distract. Distract.
“I fired him.”
“Mimi.”
“He kept cutting my steak like I’m an invalid.”
“Did you ask him to stop?”
“Repeatedly with telekinesis. When he didn’t pick up on the vibes I was throwing down, I changed the locks.”
My brows shoot up.
If Mimi’s back on sarcasm, she must be feeling at least a little better. “Good for you for knowing what you want in a personal chef.”
“And how areyoueating?” Mimi asks.
“Very well.” That, at least, is the full truth. The neighbors and various townspeople have made sure my fridge is stocked. I’m even putting some of the weight back on that I dropped right after Vince’s bombshell. Feeling like exercising again too.
“Good,” Mimi says. “You keep taking good care of yourself, and if you don’t mind an old lady tagging along, let me know when you head to the beach.”
“You’re always welcome, Mimi. Good to hear you excited about traveling again.”
“Now put Zen on. I just remembered I need to ask them something about this band they’re obsessed with.”
“Love you, Mimi.”
“Love you too, my best boy.”
I hold my phone out to Zen.
“Don’t eventryto hug me right now,” they mutter darkly.
Fair.
They know I’m lying to Mimi, which is the sin of all sins.
But they’re all sunshine and happiness when they put my phone to their ear. “Hey, Mimi! Don’t tell me you forgot to mention that a hottie was hitting on you at shuffleboard.”
They march to the living room and then upstairs, voice fading but still clear enough for me to hear the full conversation.
And it’s definitely about a band.
Zen’s door shuts. I fully expect they’re either planning on giving me the silent treatment for the rest of the day for lying to Mimi, or they’re planning to chew me out for making them an unwilling accomplice.
The right thing to do is to warm up something from the fridge—there’s leftover chicken noodle soup and it’s calling my name, and our kombucha is basically perfect—and go spend a few hours locked in my own room doing the sixth wooden puzzle I’ve started since we got here.
This one’s a bright phoenix with particularly intricate puzzle pieces.
Instead, I’m heading back to the living room window and peeking outside.
She hasn’t left yet.
