Thea laughs, like I made a joke.
“I’m serious.”
“Nonsense. You are a competent adult woman with a professional career. You have ambition. Dress like it.”
I don’t know, maybe Thea is a mind reader, because before I can whine some more, she clasps my arm, leans forward, and says, “Suck it up.”
“I thought y-you said phrases like ‘suck it up’ are an indication that my generation can’t properly communicate?”
She sniffs and—despite being several inches shorter than me—looks down her nose at me. “Since you are acting like a petulant child, I thought I would treat you like one.”
Despite the tacos, I am clearly feeling a bit pissy.
Before I can defend myself, Felicia comes out of the back. I instantly know it’s her, because Loretta, Keegan’s mom, is right behind her.
I freeze, like a raccoon crossing the road at night, unsure if I have time to bolt or if I can scare off a car just by hissing at it.
Yes, I’m probably being dramatic, but (despite what Keegan said the other day) I’ve always assumed Keegan’s parents have never liked me much. I think they blame me for the fact that he owns a bar instead of joining the family business.
She stops in her tracks, places a hand over her heart and sighs. “Meg, you look gorgeous.”
I’m shocked into immobility as she crosses the room and wraps me in a boney-armed hug.
Wait? She’s hugging me? Like we’re old friends?
What is happening? What strange new world did I accidentally pass into, and why didn’t Rod Sterling warn me I was entering the Twilight Zone?
And also, she thinksIlook gorgeous?
Did I mention that before she married into the McQuades, Loretta was one of the famed Kilgore Rangerettes? And she was a flight attendant for a private jet. A Rangerette, a flight attendant,andMiss Texas?
It’s like she won the glamor Triple Crown.
She’s still thin and gorgeous. I’m sure she’s had work done, but she probably paid so much for it, you can’t tell.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging her for getting work done. I’m just impressed she’s nearing sixty and looks like she’s thirty-two.
She pulls back from the hug to give me another once-over.
“I love the sexy blowout and face framing! Just gorgeous.”
She reaches up and her fingers flit briefly near a lock of hair that’s draped over my shoulder before her hand drops away. There’s something in her gaze that makes my throat feel too tight. Something that’s almost ...
Well, I’d say it’s almost maternal if I didn’t know better.
But I do know better.
Besides, I’ve never inspired maternal pride. Not even in my own mother, who usually just shakes her head and asks why I have to be so willful.
So whatever I think I see in Loretta’s gaze, I’m sure it’s not remotely fond.
Impulsively, I pull out one of the linen handkerchiefs I carry and thrust it at her.
She looks from the handkerchief to me and back again, frowning.
“You’re having an allergy attack,” I blurt. “It’s p-probably from the oak pollen.”
She stares at me for a moment and then laughs, taking the handkerchief and running it through her fingers before lightly dabbing her eyes. “Of course. It’s the oak pollen. It’s terrible this time of year.”
