“Is that safe? I mean, what if they peck me?”
Another surprise, this time from the blonde. “I’ll feed the chickens.” When Alexa laughed, she narrowed her eyes. “What? My mom keeps chickens.”
“I thought your mom was a vegan.”
“She is. But she started rescuing leftover chickens from battery cages, and now they run around her yard like a pack of scrawny lunatics.”
“Don’t they lay eggs?”
“She gives those away because, you know, principles. Last time I visited, I made myself an omelette, and she threw out the pan.” She offered a hand. “I’m Barbie.”
That had to be a nickname, didn’t it?
Marielle giggled. “Aw, cute. What’s your real name?”
Barbie fixed her with an icy blue gaze. “Do you have a problem with the one I gave?”
Her tone stayed sweet and a little breathy, but now there was an edge to it that reminded Nolan of Jerry. He took a step back.
“Marielle, please show Alexa to the guest wing.”
Finally, she got the hint. “Well, okay then.”
Hell, it wasn’t even lunchtime, and the day had already gone to shit.
CHAPTER 14
ALEXA
Nolan’s laptop was a piece of crap. Old and slow with sticky keys and substandard resolution. Swapping his data onto the new laptop was a much better long-term solution, even if it would take more time. Plus I needed to update his website. He didn’t have even the most basic of firewalls, and I figured Marielle had helped to set it up because the homepage misspelled “quinntessential” with an extra n the same way hers did.
The Cloud Nine Interiors website was child’s play to hack, and so was Marielle’s email. I toyed with the idea of sending Antonella Cranston a “Sorry, can’t make the cookout next week” apology, but Marielle would show up anyway and that would lead to a tricky conversation. So I did the next best thing. I tracked down Antonella’s email address, read some of her social media posts to gauge her tone, then spoofed a message.
Hey, Marielle!
So great you can come next week! I hope you’ll join in with our fun theme—we’re styling the event on the Wild West. Jeans and plaid shirts for the menfolk, saloon girl dresses for the ladies. Show us your ruffles!
Look forward to seeing you both,
Antonella
Was I a bitch? Of course. It was practically a job requirement. But Marielle had escalated this feud by making my coffee with oat milk earlier, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d spit in the cup too.
I’d set up my stuff in the study again, and all the junk gave me the heebie-jeebies. I wanted nothing more than to rent a dumpster, but if Marielle still had her sights set on cleaning out the room, then I’d have to live with it for a while longer. Ugh. Barbie had fed the chickens and headed back to Vegas, while Chase had gotten a ride into Sacramento with one of Nolan’s vineyard crew to source a vehicle.
Finally, Nolan showed up. It was mid-afternoon by then, and he was scowling, so I was going to assume that the fermenting thing hadn’t gone well.
“How’s the wine?”
“We had to scrap the entire tank. Fifty thousand bucks in gross profit down the drain, quite literally, so I’ll be living on ramen this year.”
“No, you won’t. Chase is picking up Mexican food in Sacramento, and I asked him to bring enough for four.”
And I’d also told him to make sure Marielle’s burrito came with extra habaneros.
“Why did he go to Sacramento?”
“To rent a car.”
