Page 85 of Riding the High

“From the office side, it’s a logistical nightmare to up involvement,” I say. “Where do we draw the line if we’re debating every last cent? Things like our electricity bill, and toner for the photocopier? There are costs that can’t be helped, but people don’t always understand that. Everyone always thinks they can do a better job than the person in charge but very few are actually up to the task.”

I eye Brent as I say it.Yep, I’m fucking talking to you, dipshit.

I press on. “I say we leave the budget as is for now, with only a thousand or more needing council approval. We can still open up statements of our accounts for public viewing, but block all the pertinent account information. That means people can email in concerns, comments and suggestions and we’re able to weed out who’s serious versus those who are just talking to talk.”

Brent looks away.Yep. Still mean you, bud.

My phone is face up on the table when it buzzes again.Dillard and another associate start talking about the increased electricity bills this year as I read the message on the screen.

CECE

So listen. You know I love you but I kind of dragged everything out of Ginger when we had dinner at the big house. Cole, she is my best friend, and you better not hurt her. She puts on a strong defense but she’s sensitive underneath it all.

My brows knot as I reread the message before responding. I’m not going to argue with my sister, but I think I know Ginger better than she does.Iwas the one there for her when CeCe left for seven years.Iwas there after her first day of teaching, and it was me who sat at the Horse and Barrel with her as she questioned whether or not she’d made the right career choice. Not CeCe.

CeCe’s comment, mixed with the fact that these fuckers are still droning on about the electricity bill like there’s anything we can do to change it, just serves to irritate me. You know it’s going to be a long day when you’re already pissed off at ten a.m.

She’s my friend too, and she’s a lot stronger than you think.

With that, I mute everyone’s messages except any from my little vixen. She can send those panty shots all day long. I take another look at the one she sent earlier to get me through this meeting. It does a good job of lightening my mood. Well, that and the idea of pulling those panties off with my teeth later. But first I have to get through dinner at Congressman Danforth’s house. My less-than-friendly father-in-law …

When we turn onto Royal Oak Drive at precisely six o’clock, I can feel Ginger’s nerves rolling off her in waves.

I look in my rearview mirror at Mabel happily coloring in her princess book, and reach over the console to wrap my pinky finger around Ginger’s. She instantly seems to relax and takes a deep breath.

I think back to how I found her and Mabel in the garden earlier. They’d lost track of time so, when I got home, they were still outside, talking about why impatiens like the shade and petunias like the sun. I just stood at the door, watching them work together in perfect harmony before either of them noticed me. Both of them spun around when they realized I was there; they were up to their elbows in dirt, weeding and pruning flowers in the late-day sun. The golden light shone on Ginger’s face and her thick hair was pushed back off her sweaty forehead with a bandana. She smiled at me then, and the need to burn that image of her into my brain overtook me.

The moment didn’t last long, though, as she realized she only had an hour to get showered and ready for dinner. But she’s stunning now, dressed in a deep blue sundress that shows off her killer shoulders and upper back. Her hair is piled up on her head and looks as though one slip of a pin could cause it all to tumble down around her in waves. I squeeze her hand in mine as she looks up at the house she’s always felt she had to be someone she wasn’t in while I pull into the massive driveway. Tonight is all about being orderly, prim and proper. Everyone on their best behavior. It’s no wonder Ginger moved out when she went to college, even though she could’ve easily lived at home. I make a silent promise to myself to always let Mabel be who she wants to be, and to be fiercely fucking proud of her whatever path she chooses. I would never want her to dread coming home the way Ginger does now.

“Are your mom and dad rich?” Mabel asks from the back, staring up at the house in awe.

Ginger laughs. “I suppose so, sweet girl.”

I try to give Mabel some social cues fit for an eight-year-old.

“Mabes … we can say that in this car between the three of us, okay? But only here. When we get inside, it wouldn’t be polite to ask that. Do you understand?”

Mabel nods. “So only if you’re on the team you can talk about it?”

I look at Ginger, then back to Mabel curiously. “The team?”

Mabel smiles, the picture of innocence. “Our team. Me, you and Ginger.”

I turn to Ginger, who shrugs. “Theteam. Didn’t you know?”

“Daddy and the Girls!” Mabel puts both her hands up. I laugh and scrub my face with my hand. Ginger smiles up at me.

“Well, alright then, team. Let’s do this,” I say with a grin that doesn’t leave my face the whole way up the driveway.

When we get to the porch, Ginger knocks on the front door, which baffles me. This is her parents’ home. My mother would probably smack me if I felt the need to knock instead of just walking inside. I’m realizing for the first time how different our family dynamics really are.

The door swings open and Camilla stands before us wearing the world’s biggest smile and looking like she’s ready for a state dinner. She’s wearing an expensive-looking black-and-white designer suit, matching diamond earrings and necklace, and shiny red heels.

She hugs Ginger as she ushers us into their large foyer. “Come in, come in,” she says enthusiastically.

Once we’re all inside, Camilla crouches down to Mabel’s level. “Hello, Mabel, I’m so happy you could come for dinner.”

“I had to come.” Mabel smiles shyly. “I have to go everywhere my dad goes.”

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