Quinn points her fork at me. “Yesterday, I also told you my neck turned into a rutabaga, and I was having an alien’s baby, and you nodded and asked if Mr. Harris still needed someone to help her program her garage door opener. You can barely remember the color of your eyes lately, you’re too busy killing yourself running for sainthood.”
Vivien takes a bite of bacon and chews. “Sainthood?”
Quinn wipes her mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve benefited from your quest for knighthood, but you’re getting less dashing and more haggard by the day.”
I flip a crepe onto Vivien’s plate. It’s better than meeting anyone’s eyes or strangling Quinn. “People ask me for help a lot. It’s no big deal. Things will calm down soon.”
Quinn sighs. “He always says that. Anyway, the new system might have glitched. It keeps disconnecting from the server. That’s why I told you about it.”
Vivien spoons jam into her crepe. “It’s okay. It all worked out.”
“She’s being nice,” I tell Quinn. “Her car broke down, and then Jerry arrested her.”
Quinn raises one brow. “Jerry arrested you? How on earth could you ever believe he’s a real cop?”
“Well, he was in uniform.” She forks a bite of crepe into her mouth.
Quinn’s eyes widen, and she turns to me. “Where did he get a uniform?”
“Some new costume store that apparently sells stripper gear.”
Quinn’s head tilts to one side, considering. “Is that even legal?”
“Impersonating a police officer, or old people stripping?” I turn off the stove.
“Both.”
“The police officer impersonation is a misdemeanor, and false arrest could be a felony. Old people wearing stripper clothes is not illegal, but it is disturbing.”
Quinn shifts closer to Vivien. “Did he have a gun?”
“No, just a flashlight and some fake cuffs. To be fair, I was trying to break into the inn. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
I can’t believe she’s making excuses for Jerry arresting her. She is more forgiving than I would be. Don’t celebrities get upset when people dare ask for autographs in public? He arrested her. Illegally. And she’s already moved on. Or at least taken it in stride.
“How were you going to break in? Smash the glass?” Quinn asks.
Vivien takes a sip of her coffee. “No, I was going to try and pick the lock with my hair clip.”
Quinn nods. “Oh, you did that on your show that one time.”
Vivien smiles, a dazzling flash. “I did. You remember.”
“It was a good episode. You were breaking into the interdimensional high school, while Max and Nick were trapped.”
Vivien laughs. “Good point. Hudson and Whit hated that episode, not because of flawed logic, but because I saved their characters.” She rolls her eyes. “Boys are so dramatic.”
“Especially actors, I imagine.” Quinn pushes her empty plate away.
“You have no idea.”
Quinn hops off her stool. “I have to get to work. Thanks for breakfast, Spence.”
The door shuts, and I’m left alone with Vivien. I focus on cleaning the stove, putting the dirty dishes in the sink, and wiping down the counters while she’s eating. Should I say something? Is this awkward? What do I even talk about? Her show? She probably gets asked about that all the time.
My eyes catch on the letter I set on the counter earlier.
Business. Perfect. I pick it up and set it on the counter in front of her. “Here’s the next letter, whenever you are ready.”
