The whining started as soon as I walked into the house.
"I'm hungry!" Henry complained.
"Is Josie cooking?" I asked hopefully.
"She's not here," Garrett informed me. He was sitting at the dining room table, poring over spreadsheets. "She and Mace went on a date."
"Mace took her on a date night? I'm a little hurt."
"I'm surprised you aren't out on a date. McKenna is in town," Garrett said nastily. He held a grudge in the best of times, and none of my brothers had forgiven McKenna for what had happened.
"How did you even know she was here?"
"I make it my business to know," Garrett said. I liked to stir up trouble, but I stayed far away from Garrett. He had a habit of screwing you over if you crossed him.
A notification popped up on my Instagram feed. I scrolled through the photos. Chloe had a slideshow of photos of her restaurant. I salivated when I saw the picture of the duck confit and asparagus she had made. The next post was a picture from Josie of her and my twin on their dinner date.
"I'm hungry," Henry whined. It was giving me serious flashbacks of being in the compound and not having any food.
"I'll cook something," I assured him.
"You don't know how to cook," Garrett said derisively.
"I could cook if I wanted to. Or you could cook," I told Garrett.
He stared at me, his eyes a flat gray.
"Some of us have to make sure that this family doesn't go down the toilet. Hunter is off, probably giving Meg more ammunition to ruin my life, like she did with the cell phone law," he said in a clipped tone. "In addition, you and your conference center have messed up my schedule. Someone has to find money for that abomination."
"See if you can find money for a zoo while you're at it," I told him. "Maybe we could have penguins."
"Or goats," my older brother Remy said, coming into the room. "If we had goats, we could just go make cheese."
A picture popped up on my phone.
Josie hearts this.
It was a picture of Hazel standing in front of an impressive array of sandwiches.
"Are you going to cook?" Nate asked me, tugging on my pant leg.
"No, I'm not going to cook," I told him. He looked sad. I chucked him under his chin, and my little brother frowned. "I'm a billionaire. I'm going to use my money to make this problem go away."
I clicked on the picture. The post contained a link to Hazel's Instagram. I sent her a message.
Archer:Need food for 40.
I looked at the kids. They all looked hungry.
Archer:Scratch that. 50. Anything you have. Name your price.
My phone rang a few seconds later.
"You should call ahead for catering," Hazel said. She sounded irritated but a little breathless.
"We're starving. It's an emergency," I begged, batting away Henry's hand. He was trying to dig in my pocket for nonexistent food.
Hazel sighed. "My café is supposed to be open for happy hour right now."
