Page 5 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
And you could stand to not marry men who do downward dog with their yoga instructors, but here we are.He narrows his green eyes at me with the judgment of a disappointed parent.
“Touché once again.”
We reach a wide hallway on the second level where rich burgundy carpet muffles our footsteps and vintage wall sconces cast a warm glow that makes the place look like a magazine spread forCozy New England Living.
“Here we are,” Bizzy says. “East wing, water view, and far enough from the elevator that you won’t be disturbed by late-night arrivals.”
She opens the door to my room and it’s everything a woman on the brink could ask for—lavender-scented air, gauzy curtains, a bed that looks like it has secrets and comfort food stashed beneath it.
Sunlight streams through those gauzy curtains, illuminating a cozy sitting area with a small kitchenette tucked into one corner. There’s a four-poster bed draped in a quilt that looks handmade.
“This is beautiful,” I breathe, as Chip immediately hops onto the windowsill like he’s appraising real estate.
Acceptable,he mewls.Excellent light. Good napping potential. Eight paws out of ten.
“Well, someone loves it.” Bizzy givesan easy laugh.
“I do, too,” I’m quick to tell her. “But I can’t impose on you like this. At least let me?—”
“Friends in crisis get the deluxe zero-dollar plan,” Bizzy cuts in. “No exceptions.”
“But—”
“No buts. Unless it’s yours parked on that couch with a glass of wine while we plan your next move. Glitter and revenge are optional, but highly recommended.”
I feel a rush of gratitude so intense it almost brings tears to my eyes. “Thank you. Truly.”
“That’s what friends are for. And apparently, fellow transmundanes.” She winks. “We’re a rare breed, like unicorns, but with better hair and fewer horn-related injuries.”
Bizzy and I share a laugh. I have the feeling I’ve just joined the world’s most chaotic support group and I’m not mad about it.
Chip gives one final knead of the windowsill. Always a good sign. But it’s a better sign when he’s kneading those paws into my back.Ocean view. Solid acoustics. Ample sunbeam real estate. This place has potential.
Fish sniffs the baseboards like a home inspector.Don’t get too comfortable, Cheese Head. This is still my turf.
“Well, now that I have a place to lay my head at night,” I say, glancing at my watch, “I should probably get going soon.”
Bizzy raises an eyebrow. “Big plans? Or are we talking snack run and avoidance nap?”
“I have a job interview,” I announce, puffing up a little, “at Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland. Two o’clock sharp.”
Bizzy straightens like I’ve just told her I’m joining the circus. “The theme park? I didn’t even know they were hiring.”
“They need a new manager.” I shrug, trying to sound casual and not like I’m betting my entire second act on a carousel and a funnel cake machine. “I saw the listing somewhere between hours three and four of myescape from Clyderoad trip. I figuredtwenty-five years of school bake sales, PTA carnage, and fundraising galas had to count for something.”
Bizzy grins. “Josie, you could plan a coup with nothing but a spreadsheet and a crock pot. You threw a school luau that made the newspaper.”
“I did. And not just because the principal caught fire from the tiki torch incident.”
“Details,” she says, waving it off. “This park will be lucky to have you, just like those parties you threw.”
“Someone had to make sure the party had both chipsanddip. The devil really is in the details—and the glitter.” I shrug once again. “Theme park, here I come.”
“Did someone say theme park?” Georgie’s voice floats up from the bottom of the stairs like a battle cry. “Ree, grab your purse. We’re going out! And grab my theme park hat—we ride at dawn!”
Bizzy and I move to the hallway to find Georgie and Ree already climbing the stairs, looking like two women on a mission. Georgie’s silver hair wobbles with each step like a tower of cotton candy that refuses to fall down.
“Theme parks?” Ree asks, slightly breathless. “All thesitting. All thepeoplewatching. I love theme parks!”
