Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
At least Nanny is there to pick up my shattered, liquified feminine pieces. She whips off the wig cap, revealing flowing white tresses, and cocks a scolding finger at Curly Cookie. “Wig snatcher,” she mutters.
Curly Cookie does more of the tail wagging whap-whap-whap business. Then, he casually saunters off into the kitchen and begins slurping down water so loudly and messily that I find myself grinning.
That is, until Van storms through the living room, carrying a container of bug spray. He marches out the front door, and Nanny and I both watch him out the big windows as he bends and sprays something in the grass. Bend. Spray. Dodge. Bend. Spray. Slam. Bend. Spray. Run. Bend. Spray. Spray. Spray. Curse.
“Darn it. I told him to mind the hornets. They’ve made a mess of the lawn out there.”
“Oh my god! That’s what he was saving me from?”
“You and Curly Cookie both.” Nanny pats my arm. “You obviously didn’t get stung, or you would have known right away what was up.”
“Why didn’t Van say anything?” Like anything? Even a hello before the whole hornet incident. He’s still out there, hopping around and cursing, swatting, spraying, and trying to dodge the hornets, which I can now see flying up like little black jet planes, zeroing in on him. “He has to be getting pulverized out there.”
“Oh, yes, probably, but he won’t leave it well enough alone until he has things taken care of. It would have been ten times worse if I modernized and got one of those fancy new mowers. He would have run right over it, and then all hell would have broken loose.” Nanny huffs. “But I will say that Van has the manners of the love child of a porcupine and an ornery troll with an arse full of buckshot because people are scared of trolls, and it makes sense that they’d get out their shotguns and pitchforks whenever one came around.”
If Kimmy were here, she’d probably say that whatever that love child looks like would be cuter than her brother by far. I can almost hear her saying that at least trolls have class. Trolls have a certain allure and charm, and porcupines are just straight-up adorable. But not Van. He just acts like an ass.
“He saved me from the hornets,” I say woodenly, ignoring the Kimmy voice in my brain and the sense of disappointment that I tried and failed, again, to lure Van into some form of even basic conversation. “So I guess there’s that.”
Nanny studies me for so long, her hazel eyes scoring every part of me straight down to the depths of my woefully inadequate would-be spy soul. “You came by because….”
“I…I needed to borrow a cup of frozen gravy.”
God, I love this woman. She doesn’t even crack a smile or give me grief about my horribly transparent excuse. She just nods knowingly and turns away from the window, motioning me to follow her. “I have just the thing you need. A whole container of frozen gravy for you. You get to choose. Beef, chicken, turkey, cream of turnip and beef roast, shrimp with garlic butter drippings turned gravy, sausage gravy, creamy gravy with mushrooms, or liver and onions gravy.” She keeps doing her Nanny stare through my soul thing. “I could use some help this weekend cleaning up the backyard, and I’m going to put Van to work at it. If you really want to talk to him, that would be the perfect opportunity. You could help out as well.” She breaks into a broad grin. “That last one is gravy as well. It’s called the icebreaker gravy.”
Well, butter my gravy-covered biscuits, doesn’t she just have my number. And geez, why didn’t I think of that while I was racking my brain for something to say when I got here?
I have to blink back a sting of sudden tears because this woman is so kind. So, so kind. She just sees and knows everything. Gathering my courage and the last few shards of my dignity around me, I manage to scrape out a cough of a response. “I’ll…uh…I’ll take the icebreaker gravy and a container of the liver and onions gravy, please.”
Nanny gives me one of those looks that say there’s hope for the world yet. “If you actually like the liver and onions variety, you’re the perfect one to break through that boy’s thick ass walls and get to him.”
I don’t know about that. I just don’t know. I want to confess everything right there on the spot, but Nanny walks off, mumbling a song that she made up about pink wig stealing dogs and crazy front yard hornets.
CHAPTER 5
Van
Well, shiver my fucking timbers, if this isn’t the worst way I’ve spent the weekend in a long time. However, in light of my previous rather dubious and shitty past, I’d like to temper that and say it’s the worst way I’ve spent a weekend since I got back. It’s also the first weekend since I’ve been back.