Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Liz gave her brother’s front door a perfunctory knock and walked in. “Yoo-hoo! The party’s here!”
While she hadn’t been expecting to spend the evening with her brother and niece, Liz had to admit their impromptu dinner invitation was a welcome change.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she would have lasted if left to her own devices.
Not only had Arnold’s numbers continued to mock her upon her return home, but she’d received another handful of no-thank-you emails from both old Digit Defender clients and new potentials.
Plus, her brain wouldn’t stop replaying the humiliation with Carson.
If only Carson hadn’t agreed to be dead for the murder mystery.
Then their conversation never would have occurred, they’d still hate each other, she never would’ve agreed to take him around town, and her body wouldn’t be betraying her every time she thought about their almost kiss or his arm grazing her breast in his effort to keep her from falling out of the golf cart.
Stupid Carson.
But even worse, stupid Liz. Deep down, she knew it was her own fault. For feeling something other than enmity. For not thinking. For opening herself up.
Yep. It was all her own stupid, hormone-fueled fault.
Lucky for her, she could usually count on a family dinner to dispel her bad moods.
Despite the fact that they were both grown adults, her brother still had a knack for being the same pain in her ass he was growing up.
Only now, he was successful and responsible and the best father her niece could’ve asked for.
Although still a truly terrible singer.
Liz followed the cacophony into the kitchen, wincing as her brother falsettoed along with Taylor Swift while trying to shake it off like the singer instructed her audience to do. Emily did not look amused.
“Aunt Liz!” her niece cried, spying her aunt. “Make him stop!”
Liz held up her hands. “Sorry, Squirt. No can do.”
“He’s your brother.”
“Yeah, and he’s your father.” Liz shrugged. “I’m afraid your years of embarrassment are just beginning.”
Emily shook her head. “And here I thought you loved me.”
“What crawled up your shorts?” Liz asked her niece.
Trent took a break from singing but kept shimmying around the kitchen. “She’s mad because I wouldn’t let her go to the movies.”
Hands on her hips, Emily scowled. “With friends.”
“A couple of whom are fifteen. And boys,” Trent added, giving Liz a look that said more than his words.
Liz winced. “Sorry, Squirt. I’m with your dad on this one.”
“Ugh. So unfair.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Trent said. “Cry me a river. But finish up with that garlic bread before you get it all soggy with your tears.” He opened the oven, studying its contents.
Liz sniffed appreciatively, ignoring a still grumbling Emily. “Ooh, is it chicken parm night?” While her brother might not have been the best singer, he was more than capable when it came to cooking.
“Yep. With garlic bread, if the sourpuss chef over there ever gets her rear in gear.”
Emily glowered at him and gave the bread a menacing whack with her butter knife.
God, Liz loved her family.
She set the table while her brother and niece continued to bicker good naturedly. By the time they sat down to eat, not only was Liz’s stomach rumbling, but her thoughts were well and truly diverted away from the day’s events.
“So, how’s Carson?” Trent asked.
Liz choked on her chicken parm. Thumping her chest, she swallowed, then eyed her brother. The innocent raise of his eyebrows did nothing to erase the devilish gleam in his eyes. Liz swung her gaze toward her niece, whose expression looked scarily like her father’s.
Son of a bitch. “Is that what this is about?”
“What what is about?” Trent asked, forking a piece of chicken into his mouth.
“This.” Liz waved her garlic bread in the air.
“That’s garlic bread, Aunt Liz,” Emily replied, as if speaking to someone who was halfway off their rocker.
“I know it’s garlic bread,” Liz seethed.
“Geez.” Emily winced. “What crawled up your shorts?”
“Was it Carson?” Trent asked, before glancing at his daughter. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“I do!” Emily replied.
“No, you don’t,” Trent added quickly.
Emily flopped back in her seat. “Ugh. No fun at all.”
Liz stuffed the garlic bread in her mouth while considering her options. Did she admit to her feelings and ask for advice? No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Denial and evasiveness were much better tactics.
She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Haven’t seen him since the Bowl & Roll.”
“Eeh.” Trent’s buzzer sound was scarily accurate. “Wrong answer.”
Liz eyed her brother. “What do you mean, ‘wrong answer?’”
Trent lifted an eyebrow. “I know for a fact you were both at the Murder Mystery fundraiser, and I have it on good authority that the two of you were seen cavorting about town this afternoon in Etta May’s golf cart.”
“Ooh,” Emily intoned. “Someone’s in trouble. Wait.” Confusion wrinkled her brow. “What’s cavorting?”
“Something Carson and I definitely were not doing.” At least not intentionally.
Liz wasn’t sure what connotation “cavorting” actually held, but Carson definitely shut her down before they did anything close to whatever it was her brother was implying.
Liz shoved another chunk of chicken in her mouth and chewed aggressively.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was showing him around town because Davis wants to get his thoughts on some Now and Then town project he’s working on. Totally innocent.”
“Sure,” Trent said. “Let me know if I need to hurt him for you.” He darted a glance to Emily. “Hypothetically.”
“Me, too,” Emily added. “Hypothetically.”
Liz tried not to smile. While she didn’t condone bodily harm to anyone, nor was it in Trent’s nature to do more than give Carson a stern look, it was nice to know they had her back. “No need. You’re both off the hook.”
Her brother and niece shot each other looks that were reminiscent of when they were trying to wheedle their Christmas presents out of her.
Trent tore off a hunk of garlic bread and chewed slowly, his narrowed eyes boring into Liz. “So, does that mean you two made up?”
Liz shifted in her chair. “Kind of.”
Emily looked like she was vibrating in her chair. “Are you dating yet?”
“What? No.”
Liz barely got the words out before Trent and Emily shared another look. Trent leaned forward. “Can you start Friday? Say by five p.m.?”
“Dad!” Emily hissed.
“What?” Trent hissed back.
Emily jerked her head toward Liz. “Ix-nay on the ool-pay.”
Liz did a quick Pig Latin calculation. “What pool?” She aimed the full force of her glare at her niece. Given the lifetime of exposure, her brother was nearly immune. Emily, however, was another matter.
Emily glared back for several seconds before her eyes darted to Trent.
“Hold on, Em!” he urged. “Fight it!”
“I can’t. She’s too strong!” Her eyes darted back to Liz and she squirmed in her seat like a kitten trying to get out of a toddler’s hold.
Sensing that her prey was close to the breaking point, Liz decided to go for the kill. “Emily.”
The disappointment in her voice was the final nail in Emily’s coffin.
She threw her arms over her head as if protecting herself from a swarm of birds.
“There’s a betting pool about when you and Carson will either start dating or kill each other and this is why you should’ve let me go to the movies because you know I cave under the Aunt Liz Look. ”
Emily flopped onto the table looking like she’d deflated with the release of her information.
Liz blinked as she tried to process it. There was a betting pool. About her and Carson. That involved either dating or murder.
And suddenly, things fell into place. The furtive looks at The Percolation Station. The glances of surprise and the enthusiastic greetings on their tour earlier in the day. The way people were glued to the phones, especially when she was around.
The dinner in her stomach turned to lead.
Son of a bitch!
“Did you two do this?” She waggled her finger between her brother and niece.
Trent held up his hands like he was being robbed. “No. We had nothing to do with it.”
The pained look on Emily’s face told Liz that wasn’t true. She aimed her glare at her niece again. “Emily?”
“You have the right to remain silent!” Trent cried.
“Anything you don’t say now can and will be held against you when it comes to future issues like convincing your dad to let you date.” Liz raised an eyebrow to punctuate her statement.
“You’ll never take me alive!” Emily bolted from her chair and fled the room.
Liz shook her head. “You need to work on her. She cracks too easily.”
Trent sighed. “You’re not really going to hold it against her, are you?”
“Depends. Did you two really not have anything to do with it?”
“No. Well, other than placing a bet for when you and Carson would get back together.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that people were betting on my personal life?”
“We just did.” Liz stared at Trent until he shifted in his chair.
“Plus, I’m pretty sure telling you about it would be like athletes betting on themselves.
Illegal and wrong on so many levels.” Trent speared a bite of chicken parm and shoved it in his mouth.
“Did you guys really get Bertha-ed on your tour today?”
Liz groaned. Of course someone witnessed their near mauling. “People in this town need to get hobbies.”
“Oh, we have hobbies. It’s called being up in everyone else’s business.”
“Don’t I know it,” Liz muttered.
“How long is he in town, anyway?” Trent asked. “He’s not back permanently, is he?”
“No. He’s only back temporarily.”
“Does it have to do with Arnold?” Trent asked.
Liz wasn’t sure how much Arnold had made public. “I don’t know that I can disclose that information.”
“What information?” Emily yelled from the kitchen.
“Like I would tell you!” Liz yelled back. “You leak secrets like a sieve!”
Emily appeared in the doorway with a huff. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
“Fine,” Liz huffed back. “I won’t.”
Emily slunk back to her chair. “Please?”
Liz shook her head. “Sorry, kiddo. No can do.”
“Ah.” Trent nodded in understanding.
“What?” Emily looked back and forth between them. “What’d I miss?”
“I don’t think your aunt can say anything on account of it may be work related.”
Emily scrunched her nose. “Oh. That’s not exciting. Are you working on it together?”
“Who?” Liz asked.
“You and Carson.” Emily’s duh was implied.
“That would explain a lot,” Trent added. “If you’re working on something for Arnold and Carson’s working on it too. Strong work, Em.” He reached out a fist.
Emily rolled her eyes but gave him a reluctant bump. The flush of her cheeks betrayed her faux annoyance.
Shit. These two were dangerous when they teamed up. “Again, I can’t confirm what I’m working on or for whom, but I can say I’m not working on anything with Carson.”
Emily wrinkled her nose again. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Who said work was fun?” Trent asked.
“I don’t think you’re making the argument for adulthood that you’re trying to make,” Liz said.
Emily rolled her eyes. “But it could be. Fun, I mean. Think about it. You’ve said you hated this guy for years.
I voted against the dating side of the pool, by the way, but I was vetoed.
” She cut a glance toward Trent. “And if he’s as bad as you say, you shouldn’t give him a moments peace.
You can work together and drive him as crazy as you drive my dad.
And bonus, you probably get done faster and he goes away sooner.
” She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off. “Voila. Problem solved.”
Huh. That actually might work. Not only would it give her some new perspectives on the business side of things, but it would also solve the making-a-fool-of-herself-over-Carson-yet-again problem if he left town sooner.
Maya already sent her a text letting her know he was at the inn for another night.
She didn’t need him deciding to prolong his stay in Cloverfield any longer than necessary.
“Kid, you might be the smartest person I know.”
Emily grinned. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to remind you of that at Christmas.”
Liz had no doubt she’d do just that.