Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Why does she let him disrespect her like that?” he muttered to Hold, feeling frustrated. The two of them were standing in the hallway between the bedroom and the living area, where the viewscreen was mounted over the glassed-in firewall which danced with blue and gold flames. Technically Celia hadn’t asked them to leave, but they had retreated some to give their prospective bride a bit of privacy. Still, Fierce couldn’t help commenting on what they were seeing.
“That’s her business,” Hold reminded him in a low voice. “Not ours.”
Fierce just shook his head as the older human woman came into view. She had elegant blonde hair done up in an elaborate swirl on top of her head and she was wearing expensive looking clothing. The look on her face was angry and disapproving as she, too, glared at Celia from the viewscreen.
“Cece—there you are!” she exclaimed. “How could you abandon us like that? Do you know the turkey burned to a crisp? And the ham got all dried out—not to mention you didn’t finish any of the sides before you left! Dinner was a complete disaster!”
Celia frowned.
“I’m sorry, Mother Frances, but it’s not like I chose to leave—I was legally obligated to go with Hold and Fierce because of the Claiming Laws and the Bride Draft. Of course I wouldn’t have gotten called up if Peter had taken my name out, like he said he was going to—”
“How dare you try to make excuses and blame all this on poor little Petey?” the woman demanded, putting an arm around her son protectively. “You wanted to go with those two big brutes, you shameless hussy!”
Celia’s eyes flashed.
“Did you just call me a ‘shameless hussy’? Really?”
Mother Frances put a hand on her skinny hip.
“What else should I call a girl who runs off with not one but two other men just a month before her wedding?”
“Look, Hold and Fierce have promised not to do anything like…like that!” Celia assured her. “I’m just going to stay up here for the month and hang around the Mother Ship. In fact, I got a temporary job decorating it for the Holidays,” she added, clearly trying to get back in her fiancé’s mother’s good graces.
But Mother Frances’s scowl only deepened.
“So you’re going to be cavorting around up there decorating some alien spaceship. Meanwhile, what about my dear friend, Penelope Penobscot? I promised her you’d drive down to start on her new condo tomorrow. Now what am I going to tell her?”
“Tell her that I’m actually getting paid for this job,” Celia snapped, clearly having had enough. “Tell her nobody is expecting me to decorate for them for free just because they’re a ‘dear friend’ and they value my time and work up here!”
At first Fierce thought the older woman was going to explode with fury. Her face went red and little white dents appeared on either side of her nose as her nostrils flared. But instead of shouting, she simply whirled on her heel and left, her blond hair flying behind her.
“Oh dear!” Peter, who had been standing by and not doing a thing to defend Celia from his mother’s rage remarked. “Now you’ve done it! How could you be so rude to Mummy, Celia? And after she’s been so kind to you and taken you into our family, too?”
Celia didn’t say anything to that. Fierce expected her to explode but she only clenched her hands into fists and stared at her fiancé on the viewscreen with a white face.
“Why doesn’t she say something? Why doesn’t she put him in his place?” he growled to Hold.
But his brother only shook his head.
“Her business, not ours,” he reminded Fierce.
At last Celia spoke.
“Peter, I think it’s better if we don’t call each other for a while,” she said. “I’m sorry if I upset your mother, but it’s not my fault that I’m up here. Also, she shouldn’t have promised her friend I’d be there to decorate her condo tomorrow without asking me first. I’m not one of her servants who she can just order around!”
“Nobody said you were a servant!” Peter Thielgood sighed and ran a hand through his thinning blond hair.
“Well, that’s how you treat me!” Celia burst out. “Do you know not a single person offered to help me make that huge Thanksgiving dinner your mother decided we should have? I had to do all of it—from the shopping to the prep work to the cooking!”
“Well, you didn’t do a very good job of it, considering you burned the turkey,” he snapped nastily.
Celia’s face went red with anger.
“Madre de Dios! The turkey wouldn’t have burned if any of you had any idea how to cook and had watched it!” she exclaimed. “It’s not my fault that you apparently just left it in the oven without checking it after I had to leave!”