Yeah.
There it was.
“Stop doing that,” Prue ordered Tempie. “It probably makes Battie and Vivi really uncomfortable. I know it does me.”
“That is the point, dear,” Tempie replied blithely as she floated her long, lean body down to sit in the sofa opposite Prue and Chassie.
“There’s martini in the shaker, Fitzy,” Battle called. “That was also Vivienne’s selection for this evening.”
“Excuse me, I do not do watered down vodka,” Tempie replied.
“It’s been in the shaker maybe five minutes,” Battle told her.
“That’ll be acceptable, Fitzy,” Tempie said to the butler.
As he poured, he called, “Miss Vivi, if you don’t mind, Patsy was hoping you’d pop down and let her know what you want brought in for the weekend. She’s sending Harry to the market tomorrow. We’re off early to visit the youngest for a couple days.” He grinned madly. “We have a new grandson.”
Yes, I’d asked Tempie if it was okay.
And yes, I’d told Patsy she didn’t have to cook dinner for the throng when Emily was away.
So yes, she took me up on it.
No shade on being served delicious cocktails and meals at home. Especially no shade on not having to do dishes.
But getting to cook a couple of nights a week for people I loved so did not suck for me.
“Oo, do you have baby photos?” I asked Fitzy.
He offered the martini on his tray to Tempie, she took it, then he dug his phone out of his inside jacket pocket, engaged it, slid his finger on the screen and offered it to me.
“You can scroll for probably fifteen pictures. They’re all of our new little bundle,” Fitzy said.
“Good goodness, Granddad, he’s the perfect child,” I said while scrolling. Then I looked up at him, “Outside my nephew and niece, Matty and Rayray, of course.”
Fitzy smiled at me. “Of course.”
“And I’ll dash down now to give Patsy a grocery list.” I turned to the group. “What do we say for Sunday? Tacos?”
Prue clapped. “I adore tacos.”
I looked at Battle. “Honey?”
“I don’t think there’s a human on the planet who would turn down tacos,” he replied.
Oh so very fond of this guy.
“Erm, that human would be me,” Tempie said.
Battle scowled at her.
“How about a taco salad?” I suggested.
“Don’t make special food for Tempie. She eats what we all eat,” Battle decreed.
“It’s all the same ingredients, honey,” I told him. “It’ll take me thirty seconds.”
“Mm,” was his only reply.
