Page 18 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
Yes, Camille thought but figured it was wiser to keep her mouth shut. Besides, Mrs. Lin was marching toward the kitchen, so she’d soon see for herself anyway.
“Oh my heavens, this is terrible!”
With another deep sigh, Camille hung Mrs. Lin’s coat in the hall closet, debating whether it would be smart to hide in there with it. She decided to be brave and join Mrs. Lin in the kitchen, where she was huffing and puffing so much that Camille wanted to make aThree Little Pigsjoke.
“Your grandmother must be rolling over in her grave when she looks down from heaven and sees what you’ve done to her house.” Despite her complaints, Mrs. Lin settled at the table, not protesting when Camille filled the kettle with water to make tea. Apparently, the kitchen was not enough of a disaster to make Mrs. Lin want to leave. As she retrieved two teacups, Camille made a mental note to work on that. Perhaps if it wasreallymessy, Mrs. Lin would run screaming and never visit again. Camille ducked her head to hide her smile at that thought.
“How’s Xavier?” she asked, knowing that mentioning Mrs. Lin’s grandson was her best chance of turning the conversation away from ways that Camille was a disappointment to her departed grandma.
“He’s excellent and made the varsity basketball team this year, but I’m not here to talk about him.”
“You’re not?” Camille asked, handing Mrs. Lin a cup of tea. She was curious in spite of herself, unable to remember a time when mentioning Xavier didn’t bring an hour-long recitation of his accomplishments.
“Of course not.” She took a sip of tea as Camille waited to hear what was more urgent than Mrs. Lin’s grandson. “Where did you put those cookies I brought for you?”
Camille went to retrieve both Mrs. Lin’s tin and the peanut-butter blossoms from the living room, hurrying to stuff in her mouth the remains of the cookie she’d been eating when Mrs. Lin arrived. Chewing quickly, she slowly made her way back into the kitchen, swallowing the evidence before she returned to place both containers on the table in front of Mrs. Lin. From the suspicious glance the woman sent her, Camille wondered if she knew about the half-eaten cookie anyway. Mrs. Lin always seemed to know everything.
“What I wanted to discuss with you,” the older woman said after selecting a cookie, “are the bad habits I’m seeing you fall into.”
Camille’s hand stopped in midair, hovering over the cookies.Bad habits?The only bad habits she could think of were eating too much sugar and hiding—or trying to hide, in Mrs. Lin’s case—from visitors. Neither seemed worthy of an intervention. Even if it did have something to do with her love for sweets, she defiantly picked up a cookie anyway. She was well aware that tiny Mrs. Lin could put away a whole tin of them, and she wanted to snag a mini pecan pie before they were gone.
“Bad habits?” Camille asked before shoving the entire thing into her mouth. Mrs. Lin’s bitterness was in no way reflected in her baking, and Camille felt like she should get at leastonegood thing out of this sure-to-be-unpleasant visit.
Mrs. Lin pinned her with a sharp gaze over her teacup. “Don’t play innocent with me, missy.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Lin.” Camille took another mini pecan pie. “I have no idea what bad habits you’re talking about. These tiny pies are excellent, by the way.”
“Don’t eat too many. That shirt is awfully tight as it is.”
Glancing down at her front, Camille saw that her mostly unbuttoned flannel overshirt was gaping open, showing the one beneath. “It’s long underwear,” she said, not too concerned by Mrs. Lin’s critique. After all, the only people who’d see it were the two of them. “It’s supposed to be tight.”
Mrs. Lin let out a small huff that managed to convey all her disdain in one wordless sound. “Well, your revealing attire is not helping with your situation.”
“My situation?” She reached for a third mini pie, but Mrs. Lin slapped her hand away, so Camille settled back to drink her tea. She was starting to feel a little queasy from all the sugar anyway.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the men hanging out around here lately.”
Camille blinked. That was not what she’d expected Mrs. Lin to say. Not at all. “I’m sorry… What?”
“All of your men.” Mrs. Lin raised her voice and enunciated each word carefully.
“I heard you the first time.” Camille wondered if this was a sign that her elderly neighbor was suffering from dementia. There hadn’t been any other indications, though. “I’m just confused. What men are you talking about?”
“Gladys Murphy said you’d deny it.” Shetsked yet again, and Camille resisted the urge to throw a cookie. This was one of the most frustrating conversations she’d ever had with Mrs. Lin, and that was saying a lot. “As Dr. Beacon always says on his show, the first step toward getting better is admitting you have a problem.”
“A…man problem?” Dementia was seeming more and more likely. “And since when are you and Mrs. Murphy agreeing on anything?”
“Since you’ve turned your grandmother’s lovely home into a brothel.”
“A brothel? I’m not only having sex with a bunch of imaginary men, but I’m charging for it, too?” The total ridiculousness of the conversation hit her, and she fought the urge to laugh. “I promise you, Mrs. Lin, that this house has more in common with a convent than it does a brothel.”Unfortunately.
“Don’t lie to me, missy.” Mrs. Lin shook a piece of shortbread at Camille before taking an angry bite. There was a stiff silence until she finished chewing. “I’ve seen these men with my own eyes.”
“That’s impossible, because there are no men.”
Delicately brushing the crumbs off her fingers, Mrs. Lin reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone and a pair of reading glasses. “I have photographic evidence,” she said, setting the glasses on her nose and tapping at the screen.
Getting up, Camille moved around the table to look at the phone over Mrs. Lin’s shoulder. “Let’s see this parade of men, then.” She was honestly interested in seeing the photos.
