Page 92 of A Dead End Wedding

"In Grumpy Gus's house?" Elisabeth looked scared for a minute.

"Yes, honey. Grumpy Gus is gone forever," Emily said, smoothing her daughter's hair back from her forehead. "Now go wash your hands and face for dinner and tell Ricky to wash his hands, too, 'kay?" She put her daughter back down on the floor, and Elisabeth ran off yelling "Ricky" at the top of her lungs.

I raised an eyebrow. "Grumpy Gus?"

She shook her head. "He was newly retired from some big oil corporation, and his biggest enjoyment in life was yelling at the neighborhood kids to stay out of his yard and off of his grass. When I mentioned it to Celia, she and Nathan decided not to renew his lease. I don't know why he didn't just buy a house, anyway. He had to be loaded, considering that car he drove. Jerk."

"Now, honey. Let's not scare December off on her first dinner over here," Rick said. I got the feeling he was the pacifist in the family, and Emily was the mama wolf.

Emily carried the lasagna to the table, and I tried not to drool openly. I wassogoing to love living next door to people like this.

"Hey, speaking of The Psychic, tell me more about this. So you read 'tells,' Max said?"

Emily shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal. Trust me, after you've been a mother and your child stared you right in the eyes and swore up and down that he did not — andneverwould have — put the goldfish in the microwave because they were probably cold in their bowl, you can read grownup poker players with no problem."

I laughed and made a face. "Did the fish survive?"

"Barely. They were never the same, afterward."

Rick said, "She's being overly modest, as usual. It's a valuable talent on the circuit. Some of these guys have been perfecting their technique for years, and nobody couldeverread them until they came up against Emily." He rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. One of those private smiles that some couples can share in the middle of a crowd, and you know they're only seeing each other.

I've never gotten a smile like that.

Emily smiled back at her husband, then yelled for the kids. "Richard Kingsley Junior! I know you're still on that computer! Wash those hands and get in here."

Rick rolled his eyes. "He probably didn't even hear you. He goes into the zone when he reads or plays computer games. I'll go get him."

As he strode off in search of the kids, I looked at Emily. "So, have you ever considered consulting on any legal cases?"

"If I had even a millimeter of space in my stomach, I'd go for a third piece of lasagna," I said.

Elisabeth, or Joker, as her family called her, made an "Euuwww," sound. "That's yucky, to eat more basketti after your dessert. Don't you know anything?"

"Elisabeth!" her mother said, looking stern. "Please apologize to Miss December. It's rude to ask someone if she doesn't know anything."

I laughed. "No problem. She's right. What kind of person eats more food after caramel pecan cheesecake? The kind who weighs four hundred pounds." I stood up, trying not to groan at the weight of my very full stomach.

"Now, let me clean up the kitchen, since you cooked everything," I said, picking up a plate.

"No way," Rick said. "Tonight is my turn. Trust me, we'll let you do all the dishes you want, just not on your first dinner here. You and Emily go talk about girl stuff, and I'll take care of this. Ricky, will you be a big boy and help Daddy?"

Ricky nodded seriously, ready to take on his big-boy responsibilities. Joker pushed out her lip. "I wanna help. I'm a big girl, too, Daddy." She grabbed her Minnie Mouse cup as Ricky reached for it, then she yanked it away from him.

If I hadn't been covered in chocolate milk, I would have admired the perfect arc of the milk as it flew.

I looked at my drenched clothes, hair dripping down my face, and thought about my day. Then I started laughing.

It might have sounded just a teensy bit hysterical.

14

Iwoke up to the sound of classical music playing on the clock radio Emily had loaned me the night before, in the middle of a dozen apologies about the chocolate milk. Looking around the room at my motley collection of furniture, I realized I had to call the moving company again as soon as I got into the office. This sleeping on the floor on an air mattress was ridiculous when I had a perfectly good bed. Somewhere.

Plus, living in a house furnished in "early yard sale" wasn't exactly good for the morale.

I jumped in the shower and did a rushed hair and makeup thing, then put on my lightest-weight celery-green summer suit, since it was supposed to be a kajillion degrees by noon. Then I headed for the office, thrilled all over again to be running my own law firm. I'd tried for years to talk to the partners at my old firm to have apro bonoday once a week. Even once a month. But nobody was all that interested in putting in unbillable hours in that corporate culture. Some lawyers had actually bragged about how long it had been since they'd seen their children when the kids were awake.

It was my show to run now, though. I could work all the unpaid hours I wanted. I winced a little as I opened my car door, remembering thatallof my hours these days were unpaid, and then firmly shoved that thought to the back of my mind.

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