"He's not your boyfriend," I countered.
"That's right, missy!" Ida chimed in. "Archer wants someone who butters his artisanal bread."
I slapped a hand to my face. I did not need Ida escalating the situation.
"Look, McKenna," I said, trying to defuse the situation. "Archer is over here for a legitimate reason. I'm doing some work for him."
"Yeah! Working that paintbrush!Woo!" Ida exclaimed, pumping her fist.
"Is that what you're doing? How am I not surprised?" McKenna sneered.
"That's not—Ida, please—"
"He's just using you, you know," McKenna said, tapping her expensive designer shoe on the floor. "Even if you two are having some sort of affair, Archer is a billionaire and a Svensson. It is highly unlikely that he truly wants anything to do with you. He can't take you to parties or a nice restaurant or show you off to investors. He wants someone like me." She preened.
"Then why does he spend all his free time with Hazel?" Ida shot back. That was the wrong thing to say. McKenna's eye started twitching.
"We have a history," McKenna said. Her tone had a slightly hysterical edge. I was worried she would go all final destination and throw Ida through a window or something.
"Youarehistory," Ida said. "Archer's clearly moved on to bigger and better things."
McKenna looked me up and down. "Bigger, yes. Better, I'm not so sure." Then she turned on her heel and left.
"Don't let her drag you down," Ida said, patting me on the back as I tried to shake off McKenna's comments. "Men like a little junk in the trunk. Trust me."
* * *
I finally shooedIda out after giving her the rest of the alcoholic drinks to go.
I was wiped after the art retreat, and I was, for once, thankful not to have a big happy hour rush. In between serving the trickle of customers, I ran up and down the stairs to choose paintings I would take to sell at the art fair that weekend.
When the last customer left, I tried to do another puppy painting to sell, but I wasn't feeling it. Was McKenna right? Was Archer just using me? The time I had spent with him last night had seemed genuine, though. However, the conversation with him had reignited the guilt about my little sisters.
I hung up the Closed sign on the door. Then I took my bike and some leftover food to my childhood home. A pair of motorcycles blew past me.
"Stop speeding!" I yelled at them, but they were already several blocks away. I was still grumbling when my little sister Minnie opened the front door.
"Hazel!" my younger sister shrieked. Rose came running. They were in junior high. Most of the time, they were surly teenagers, but there were still moments when they acted like sweet little girls.
"Did you come to save us?"
"Can we come live with you?" they begged.
"I don't have any room," I told them, coming inside. "I brought you food though!"
"I have healthy food made," Meg said.
"I almost got run over by some motorcycles. I deserve something fatty, salty, and savory," I retorted.
Meg shook her head. "Susie says it's some of the Svensson boys back from college break for the summer. She's already complained to Hunter—not that it did anything."
"Maybe it's payback for the cell phone ban?"
Meg sniffed. "The cell phone ban makes everyone safer."
"Where's Uncle Barry?" I asked.
"He's at a city meeting," Meg replied. "We didn't know you were coming."
