“Of course! The email said two people, and I immediately thought of you and Rachel.”
“Oh, Vivian, I don’t know.”
I forced my lips to stay in a smile in spite of my disappointment. “I guess I could take Mom ...”
“No. Nope. It’s a sign, a sign that I need to work through these fears. I’m going to do it,” Abi said. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “It’s just the weekend, right?”
“Right.”
“Zeke will be here. The boys will be here. Even ol’ Barney.”
At the sound of his name, Barney beat his tail against the kitchen floor. He wasn’t much of a match for any kind of intruder, unless said intruder was afraid of being licked half to death.
But I kept that opinion to myself.
“I’ll make them promise not to leave the house, that’s it,” she said more to herself than to me.
“Abi, I had no idea you felt this way about trips. I don’t want you to go if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
Her eyes met mine. She was willing herself to go on this trip. “I’m going.”
“I’m so glad,” I said, “and thank you for coming with me this morning.”
“Really, Vivian, you didn’t know. I guess I should’ve told you.”
“No, no,” I said. “I mean, I’m glad you did. I was sure enough glad to have you sitting beside me when she pulled out that video of Mitch.”
“She shouldn’t have done that.” Abi paused to take a sip of tea. “I just wish I hadn’t been such a mumbling fool.”
“You weren’t a mumbling fool.”
Abi arched an eyebrow.
“You were just ... shy.”
She snorted at that.
“You sure you’re okay with the makeover trip?”
“Woman, I’m not missing my chance to get a pair of designer shoes.”
“Good. I don’t think it would be anywhere near as fun without you.”
Chapter 24
The next day we gathered in our usual spot. Mom joined us, complete with her own Mom Scouts tumbler that had arrived earlier that afternoon. I’d made a video about merchandise and already had twenty orders.
I made next to nothing from merchandise sold, but I had to generate any income I could because I was up to three whole job “opportunities.” The most recent? Selling knives door-to-door or selling sketchy insurance over the phone.
I wasn’t that desperate yet, but I was getting there.
But I wasn’t about to think about anything depressing—not on Wine Down Wednesday, thank you very much.
“What are we drinking?” I asked Rachel.
“This is a Silverado Solo.”
“Nice.”
