Page 70 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Holy psychic abilities! Could her mother actually have powers that went beyond gleaning the divine energy of votive candles?
“Did that voice mention why it wanted you to call?” she asked, then glanced at her husband, who remained motionless.
“It must be my maternal instinct,” her mother answered.
Jordan gestured to his watch and mouthedF-B-I.
Oh no! She needed to get off this call and fast.
“Sure, that’s got to be it. Well, everything’s all good here, so we’ll let you get back to chanting or whatever psychic fun the retreat has in store for you,” she answered when her mother frowned.
“Pumpkin, what’s in that glass?”
Georgie’s gaze slid to the giant serving of pineapple juice. “Oh, this?” she asked, wishing she had the psychic ability to make it disappear.
The woman leaned in. “It’s too light for orange juice.”
“Nope, it’s not orange juice,” she said, makingoh-shiteyes at her husband.
“Are you drinking pineapple juice?” her mom asked with a troubled expression.
Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
If anyone knew about her non-pregnant aversion to pineapple, it was Lorraine Vanderdinkle. The woman had had a front-row seat—literally—when she’d spewed a pineapple-laden fruit cup all over a row of judges.
Was this it? Was it time to come clean?
She parted her lips when her husband swooped in and entered the camera frame.
“Hi, Lorraine! It’s pee in the cup,” Jordan said, grinning into the camera.
“Pee as in urine?” her mother asked, her voice sliding up a few octaves.
The man nodded.
What was Jordan thinking?
“Why on earth would you leave a glass of pee on a desk?” her mother pressed.
Jordan’s gaze bounced from the glass to the computer’s camera. “I’m trying out the keto diet. With keto, you pee on these strips to learn if your body’s in ketosis.”
Georgie nodded. There was no turning back now.
Her mother’s troubled expression morphed into pure shock. “Shouldn’t you be doing that in a bathroom?”
Jordan snapped his fingers. “Gosh, I’m glad you called, Lorraine. That’s a great idea!”
“And Jordan,” the woman continued.
“Yes,” her husband replied, his smile as plastic as hers.
“You may want to see a doctor, dear. That looks like a considerable amount of urine, even for someone as big as you.”
Sweet pineapple surprise! This call had gone off the rails fast.
Georgie slid the glass out of the camera’s view. “As you can see, we’re doing great. Did you need anything else?”
Her mother chewed her lip. “Have you been by the Ritz-Carlton or stopped in at the Country Club?”
