I turned onto my street and nearly crashed into a tree, I was so distracted by what was in my driveway.
A Dumpster.
With my bathtub in it.
“Looks like Grandma Cel has been busy.”
I parked at the curb, behind Maria’s Mercedes.
As I opened my car door I caught sight of Mr. Cabrera and Boom-Boom speeding down the street in her golf cart.
She braked to a stop in my driveway behind the Dumpster.
“Having some work done, Miz Quinn?”
“I guess so, Mr. Cabrera.”
“Need help?”
Maybe of the psychiatric kind, but I didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Boom-Boom stood with Riley, inspecting his arm. I walked over to them, and she said, “I really am sorry about this.”
“He’s no worse for the wear,” I said, wondering if that was a cliche. I decided not. I’d had a rough enough day already.
“I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that or not,” Riley said.
Mr. Cabrera clapped him on the back. “Or not.”
“When are you guys coming to Growl? Remember, dinner’s on me.”
179
“I couldn’t,” Boom-Boom tittered.
I didn’t think it was possible to titter, but it was. And she did.
“Come on, you have to. I promised. And I never break my promises.”
Unlike his father. Which got me to thinking about Kevin.
And Bobby.
I missed him. Bobby, that is. Not Kevin. And I’d just seen him last night. Bobby, not Kevin.
What did this tell me?
“When are you working again?” Mr. Cabrera asked.
“Wednesday night. Five until closing at ten.”
“We’ll be there. It’s a date.”
Boom-Boom giggled and clasped onto Mr. Cabrera.
I couldn’t help myself. “Did Riley tell you, Mr. Cabrera?”
“Tell him what?” Riley asked.
“That Mrs. Krauss is working for me temporarily? While Tam is out on leave?”
The color drained from Boom-Boom’s face.
“How could I have told him that?” Riley asked. “I’m just now— Ow! Why’d you step on my foot?”
“Did I?” I asked. “Sorry.”
“Ursula’s okay, then?” Mr. Cabrera’s blue eyes held a hint of worry.
“Of course she’s okay,” Boom-Boom trilled. “Old battle-axes like that never die.”
My eyebrow arched. Riley’s mouth fell open. Mr. Cabrera disengaged Boom-Boom’s arm from his.
“I, er, mean that in the nicest possible way.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Nee-nah! You’re home. You’ve got to see the plans.”
Oh Lord. Maria.
I crossed the lawn. “Plans?”
“For your bathroom. What’s that in your shirt? Really, 180
Heather Webber
Nina, I could give you the name of a good plastic surgeon.
You don’t need to stuff. How . . . adolescent.”
I growled and pulled the envelopes out of my shirt.
