Chapter Five
CASH
“OH, MY, NO.” Wilma tries to cover my torso with an oversized embroidered tea towel. “No, no, no.”
Only one hand is free. Her other arm cradles that horny little Thumbelina.
“Wilma.” Faye tugs the cotton lower. “Seriously. Stop fussing.”
She’s struggling too, with Dart tucked under her other arm.
They don’t lock their dogs up, but they did promise to keep them tight so we don’t have another incident.
Their tug-of-war drags in front of me. Behind the sisters, my class of ladies lean on their stations, smirking and stifling laughter.
Wilma gives her sister a sharp look. “He forgot his shirt.”
It seems only one sister peeked at my online cooking and baking lessons. The other one is totally in the dark, probably thinking this is a regular cooking class.
She doesn’t realize that flour, frosting, and a certain level of extracurricular enthusiasm are par for the course here.
Wilma glances at me. “Or did you spill something on your shirt?”
Yup. She has no idea what my brand is.
“I can have it washed and dried in no time, and—” She pauses, assessing. “In the meantime, I’m sure I can rustle up a shirt for you. I have a few of my deceased husbands you could borrow.”
That doesn’t sound appealing.
Faye’s eyes roll skyward, lids sparkling pink and silver. Her paper-thin hands clutch the towel as she yanks it closer to her.
“Did you watch the videos before we finalized the details?”
Wilma’s tight lips tighten. Clear no.
Oh, this sweet old gal is in for a shocking show.
“Wilma!” Faye hisses.
“What?” The single word is cool and unshaken with no signs of regret.
“I set it up on the iPad. All you had to do was press play.”
Wilma shrugs. “I got distracted.”
“Distracted?” Faye’s eyebrows shoot up almost as high as the cinnamon bun on her Kentucky Derby hat. “By what?”
Wilma doesn’t answer.
Thumbelina growls.
“By what?” her sister presses.
