“Well, because the whole family pitched in together and bought a third share in our bauxite mining operation. They are moving here next month.”
“To Alienn?”
“Yep. They wanted a change, I guess.” Axel shrugged. “I’ll be good, Diesel.”
“I guess so. But I’ll probably forget you told me this later on, be forewarned.”
“No worries. And it’ll be fine, Diesel. They are all solid and I think they will fit right in.”
“No doubt.” Diesel looked up in time to see Aunt Dixie headed toward them with her shapeshifter friend in tow.
Axel noticed them and murmured under his breath, “Here comes trouble.”
“Double trouble,” Diesel said as the two women marched into the center of the assembled family outside Wheeler room.
“Miss Penny might be able to help, Wheeler” Aunt Dixie said and marched into Wheeler’s room with Miss Penny on her heels.
She repeated her claim to Gage.
“How?” Gage demanded.
Aunt Dixie frowned. “Just give her a chance.”
“Fine.” Gage gestured for the elderly women to go in, and the rest of the family followed.
Aunt Dixie whispered encouragingly to her friend, “Go for it.” Miss Penny lifted her ginormous purse onto the bed, opened the top, dug around inside and pulled out a small orange bottle. She sprayed a fine mist into Wheeler’s face, twice. The strong scent of orange peels wafted through the air.
Wheeler’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright, coughing, gasping for breath, waving a hand in front of his nose as runnels of the clear mist traveled down his cheeks. His eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head. Everyone in the room waited, unmoving, unspeaking.
“I hate orange peels,” he said angrily, eyes still closed.
Diesel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he held. At least his brother was awake and coherent.
“Wheeler?” Gage asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’d be a whole lot better if no one sprayed me with nasty orange peel scent ever again. Ew.” He wiped his face, winking one eye open to look at his hand. “Someone sprayed me in the face. Why would they do that?” The single eye gazed around at the faces of nearly his entire family—his brothers, sisters-in-law, Valene and her sheriff, Aunt Dixie—all grateful he was out of his odd coma while he grumped about the smell.
Diesel turned to Miss Penny. “Okay, what was that? How did you know that would work?”
She gave him a cagey look. “Maybe I was just lucky.”
“I sincerely doubt that. Whatdoyou know, Miss Penny?”
“Nothing. I know nothing.” She dropped her little orange spray bottle back in the huge purse and slid it from the edge of the bed. It landed on the floor with aplunk, like a twenty-pound barbell hitting the mat after a long workout.
Aunt Dixie poked him in the chest with one boney finger, gaining his full attention. He rubbed the spot where she’d bruised him. “Be grateful, Diesel. Don’t start asking questions you don’t want the answer to.”
“But I do want the answer,” he retorted.
She waved her palm in front of his eyes a couple of times, chanting in a low, strange voice, “No, you don’t, Diesel. You are happy. You want to go home. You don’t have any questions.”
“You can’t hypnotize me!” Diesel said, incredulous she’d attempt something so ridiculous.
She shrugged. “It was worth a try. I need to work on my suggestive voice skills.”
Diesel looked at Wheeler, still wiping orange spray from his face. He finally yanked the hospital sheet up to his face and wiped it with vigor. When Diesel looked back, Miss Penny was no longer at the edge of Wheeler’s bed. He turned in time to see her, massive purse hitched up on one bony shoulder, escape from the room. She sure was fast when she wanted to be.
“Hey. Wait,” Diesel said, going into the hall after her. Miss Penny kicked it up a notch and walked even faster, but she was tiny and had short legs. Diesel easily caught up before she’d gotten too far. The purse must have slowed her down.
