The Single Undead Moms Club (Half Moon Hollow series Book 4) (22 page)

“And what was that?”

“Bein’ a parent is a constant cycle of gettin’ yer ass handed to ya. Anytime you think you’re ahead of the game, that you got it all figured out, that’s when reality pops up and bites ya.”

“A man with a medical degree said that to you?”

“I’m paraphrasin’,” he said, shifting his shoulders.

I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time someone—besides Jane—let me babble on like that. Wade actually listened to me, and he didn’t try to “fix” me. And while he did make the occasional grand gesture, like mass brookie consumerism, he recognized my need to handle things on my own. He didn’t try to tell me what I could be doing better or step in to take care of a problem for me. I could handle a little more of that in my life.

“Well, stop it. You being helpful is downright disorienting. And while we’re at it, stop calling me darlin’. It does funny things to my brain.” I smacked at his arm, making him laugh again.

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, still snickering. “And that’s why I do it.”

Just because you have joined a new community, that doesn’t mean that everyone you meet in that community is going to get along. Try not to interfere with established feuds between vampires. Those situations have a tendency to take out bystanders.

—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting

C
helsea Harbaker had her revenge, upping the deadline for my donation collection for the Pumpkin Patch Party by two weeks. It was a maneuver that was both elegant in its effective simplicity and super-bitchy.

So I was spending the evening at Specialty Books with my two favorite vampire ladies. Jane and I were going over a list of businesses in the chamber of commerce listing. We were dividing the list into two sublists, one of businesses most likely to donate raffle tickets and auction lots for the Pumpkin Patch Party and the other of businesses that would be good targets for me to approach for my bookkeeping operation.

Les and Marge were not pleased with me for reporting their breach of Judge Holyfield’s freshly released order. I could feel their displeasure as more of my clients—most of whom knew Les and Marge—had been dropping off my roster with excuses like “I’d be more comfortable with someone I can contact during the day” or “I’ve been friends with Les for twenty years, so . . .” Meaning I’d lost about ten percent of my client base in the last week.

According to Kerrianne, Les had been grousing to his cronies at the Coffee Spot that Judge Holyfield was obviously a shameless liberal, biased toward the undead. In a town as small as the Hollow, that was bound to get back to the judge eventually. I decided to take the opposite tack, so I would be able to meet the judge’s eye when we finally saw him. To show that my little family was being influenced by the most stable vampires in the region, Danny was sitting at the coffee bar, enjoying a large hot chocolate and telling Mr. Dick and Mr. Gabriel all about his latest schoolyard adventures with Harley. I noted that he did not mention his three-day TV ban as a result of his emotionally scarring threats to Chase Ramos.

Danny loved Miss Jane’s “magic shop,” with its mysterious candles and ritual items and the strange herbal smells. And if I wasn’t careful, he was going to talk Dick out of a third chocolate chip cookie.

Andrea slid into the seat next to me and shook her head over my two-page list of neatly handwritten business names.

“Never accept the prize committee position,” Andrea told me in a sage tone. “That way lies madness.”

Jane shrugged. “I tried to tell her.”

“Not helpful,” I told them both, sipping a particularly nice bottle of Plasmatein, a blend of synthetic blood and proteins that was supposed to stave off bloodthirst for longer periods of time.

“I don’t get it,” Jane huffed. “I mean, I was turned years ago, and I’m not facing the sort of prejudice you are. Sure, my former boss was a bit of a jerk about filling out my undead benefits paperwork, but all I had to do was make a few veiled threats, and she fell right in line.”

Dick protested, “Yeah, but you basically stuck to the nocturnal community. You got a job in a bookstore in a seedy part of town. You made friends in the vampire community. It’s easy to ignore someone who’s sticking to their own kind. Buttercup here is going to PTA meetings and cooking for the school bake sale. She’s rubbing her fangs right in their faces.”

“You do realize that I’m standing right here, yes?” I said, waving my hand, making Dick and Gabriel laugh. “And I am not rubbing anything in anybody’s face. And at least I’m not engaging in front-seat make-out sessions with my sire at a Cracker Barrel, Jane.”

“That happened
one time
,” Jane said, holding up her index finger.

“Besides, I don’t think Finn’s ever been to a Cracker Barrel,” Dick added.

“Finn?” Gabriel’s eyes went wide. “
Finn
Palmeroy
is your sire?”

“Why does everybody say it like that?” I exclaimed.

Andrea cleared her throat. “Finn has a bit of a reputation among vampires. Also, Jane, Dick, why didn’t you tell us Finn was Libby’s sire?”

“We took a vow of confidentiality,” Jane said.

Dick shrugged. “Also, it sort of slipped my mind.”

“What kind of reputation?” I asked.

“What’s a nice word for ‘shady as hell’?” Andrea asked.

“Dick Cheney,” Jane said just as Gabriel asked, “
Is
there a nice word for ‘shady as hell’?”

I might have laughed if they weren’t talking about the guy who’d turned me while I was unconscious. I hoped there weren’t questionable pictures out there on the Internet.

“I think I find that offensive!” Dick exclaimed. “No, seriously, I do find that offensive, Jane. You know how hard I’ve worked to turn over a new leaf. I haven’t sold a counterfeit UK promotional product in months!”

“Dick!” Jane exclaimed. “You know I’m kidding!”

“No, I don’t know that, Jane. Just like you don’t know whether I’m ‘kidding’ when I throw out every coffee drink you make at the shop to protect our customers from food poisoning!”

Dick flounced off into the back room. He honest-to-God flounced. I’d never seen a vampire flounce before. It was considerably less intimidating than everything else I’d seen vampires do. Jane stared after him and turned to her husband, who shrugged and then gestured toward Dick’s back.

“That wasn’t more insulting than what I usually say to him,” Jane protested.

“You make me apologize to Jamie when I say the wrong thing,” Gabriel noted.

“That’s because you say the wrong thing so frequently. I only say the wrong thing every once in a while.”

Gabriel said nothing, merely lifted an eyebrow and stared at his wife.

She added, “When it comes to
Dick
, I only say the wrong thing every once in a while.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow did not change position.

“Miss Jane, when you hurt someone’s feelings, you should say you’re sorry,” Danny informed her solemnly. “Miss Steele says that not saying you’re sorry ‘only compounds the rudeness.’ I’m not sure what that means, because when we asked, she told us to look it up on Google when we got home. And I forgot.”

“You’re setting an example for Danny,” Gabriel told her, smirking to beat the band.

Jane groaned. “Fine.”

With all of the enthusiasm of a petulant teenager, Jane flung herself from the chair and followed Dick into the stockroom. “Dick! Danny says I have to say I’m sorry!”

“They’ve been like this ever since they started working together at the Council,” Gabriel said with a sigh.

“As much as I sympathize with the Council’s internal squabbles, can we get back to the fact that my sire has a Keyser Soze reputation?” I asked.

“He’s not violent,” Gabriel said, quickly putting his hands over Danny’s ears. “Well, he’s not always violent. He considers it the last resort, a sort of rudeness he doesn’t want to stoop to.”

“So more Hannibal Lecter than Keyser Soze. That’s much better.”

Gabriel didn’t disagree with me, which I didn’t find comforting. “Finn has made a lot of money over the years for himself and his backers using a systematic sort of ruthlessness that makes even the Council hierarchy balk. He is unsentimental and efficient and has no qualms.”

“Has no qualms about what?” I asked.

“Anything.” Gabriel’s expression was neutral despite his conflicted tone. “I didn’t say he was unlikable. He can be quite charming, actually. I just wouldn’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth, unless he’s telling you how his actions will directly benefit him.”

“So why would he turn me?” I asked. “If he’s this cold, ruthless businessman, why in the world would he respond to an online ad and turn me?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Should you go back there and try to smooth things over with Dick and Jane?”

Gabriel shook his head emphatically, finally unclamping his hands from Danny’s ears. “No, I should not.”

“You’re much better at earmuffs than my papaw,” Danny informed Gabriel. “I could hardly hear anything.”

Gabriel gave Danny a regal little nod.

“So on to less awkward subjects. How’s Wade?” Andrea asked in a tone too casual to be authentic.

“He’s fine,” I said lightly.

Andrea sighed. “Yes, he is.”

Jane poked her head out of the stockroom doorway, having apparently heard this comment over the commotion of Dick’s hissy fit. She and I both stared at Andrea for a long moment.

Andrea shrugged. “I have a soft spot for sketchy characters with hearts of gold. And you two were just so adorable at Danny’s birthday party. It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy you were screaming at in a janitor’s closet.”

“I wasn’t screaming. I was projecting my voice. Loudly. And Wade isn’t sketchy,” I insisted quietly, checking to make sure Danny wasn’t listening. “He’s just not what I’m used to.”

I expected some commentary from Jane, but she was staring at the door, with a “kill it with fire” expression on her face. I followed her line of sight to the door and saw my sire strolling into Specialty Books like he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d dressed up for the occasion of startling the hell out of me, wearing a dark blue suit and a crisp white shirt. And his short dark hair seemed especially slicked back. And I was smiling at him, in front of my mentor, who likened him to poison ivy.

Oh . . . shitballs.

“Hey, man,” Dick said, emerging from the stockroom to shake Finn’s hand.

“Dick!” Jane barked.

“What?” Dick sighed. “I don’t get to spend time with a lot of former colleagues.”

Jane gave Dick an even more pointed look. Dick’s heaving sigh was downright petulant, giving Danny a run for his money. At last, she relented. “Fiiine. But this is not helping your whole ‘I have changed’ shtick.”

Finn gave Dick’s shoulder a manly pat and sauntered over to the table, standing behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders and seemed to relax, as if he was relieved to be near me again. It was sort of flattering but, at the same time, off-putting, considering Jane’s opinion of him.

“Mrs. Nightengale, you’re the one who summoned me here. Surely you’re not surprised to see me.”

Jane’s whole character seemed to change in one roll of her shoulders. She went from the quirky, funny lady who let my son scramble all over her like a beanbag chair to a strange queenly creature, glaring across the table at Finn like he’d sunk her armada without even offering a half-assed apology. Her posture was ramrod straight. Her mouth was grim. And her voice was frosty. “I am surprised to see you, considering that I asked to see you
tomorrow night
. When Libby isn’t here. I think you two have already spent enough time together.”

“Really?” Finn gave me a cheeky wink. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, Oprah
, I prayed,
just let me sink through the floor so I don’t have to be present for this awkward conversation
.

“So uncomfortable,” Andrea whispered. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Did you just not
hear
me when I forbade you to see your childe, or do you suffer from some sort of auditory-processing disorder?” Jane asked.

“Actually, I appealed your decision to the North American Council offices in Cleveland,” he said, handing Jane an official-looking envelope. “I offered several character references and a considerable donation. They’ve granted me conditional visitation rights.”

Suddenly, I understood how Danny felt, with the “adults” in the room talking over my head. I was pretty sure Jane and Finn were going to start spelling the big words soon. Also, why did I not know that the North American Council offices were in Cleveland?

And because he could sense conversational tension like a shark scents a distressed seal, Danny slid off his bar stool and climbed into my lap. “Who’s this?”

My son studied Finn for a long moment, then leaned close and whispered, “I don’t trust him, Mom. He’s got a bad-guy beard. He’s probably from an evil dimension.”

My first-grader knew about the
Star Trek
Evil Beard Dark Parallel Universe. Lord, save me from my sci-fi precocious son.