ride either, so she’d opted for a rental car. She unlocked the back door and was immediately engulfed by the delicious smells of freshly griddled pancakes and bacon.
“Oh!” her grandmother said from behind the island stove top. She had a spatula raised in defense and her free hand over her heart. “You startled me.”
“What are you doing here?” Toni asked, dropping her bags by the back door and rushing across the enormous farm-style kitchen to squeeze the stuffing out of Grandma Joanna.
“I’d ask you the same. Your mother said you were off getting into trouble with some rock band.” She patted Toni on the rear end with her spatula before using it to flip pancakes.
“I was working with a rock band,” Toni said. “But I sort of got fired.”
“Whatever for?”
“It’s a long story, and I’m too tired to tell it now. How long are you visiting? We need to catch up.”
“I’m here to stay.”
Toni’s chewed on the tip of her finger. Grandma Joanna was her paternal grandmother. They hadn’t seen much of her since Dad had passed away. For almost a decade she’d been traveling the country in her motor home with her two Pomeranians.
“Toni!” Birdie squealed from the kitchen doorway that led to the hallway. “You’re home!”
She dashed into the room, trailed by two orange fluff balls and her ever faithful border collie, Jonesy. All three dogs wagged their tails at top speed.
“Just for a few days, Buttercup.”
Birdie pouted and then glanced toward the door expectantly. “Is Logan here too?”
“No, he has a performance tonight.”
“Who’s Logan?” Grandma Joanna asked with a sly grin.
“That’s Toni’s sweetheart,” Birdie said matter-of-factly.
“It’s about time she got one of those,” Grandma said as she scooped several pancakes onto a waiting stack. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Mmm, mmm. Pancakes!” Birdie said, dancing on her tiptoes and licking her lips as she eyed the stack.
Toni had been planning to go directly to bed, but her stomach growled loudly and changed her mind. It would be rude not to join them for breakfast. Mostly because her grandmother’s homemade pancakes were to die for.
“Should we call Mom down?” Toni asked as she carried butter and syrup to the breakfast table in the corner nook of the kitchen. Birdie followed with plates and silverware.
“She left for work about an hour ago,” Grandma said with wave of her spatula. “Some catastrophe at the office.”
Toni wondered if the catastrophe centered around a certain editor who deserved a boot to the face. And one to the ass. Scowling, Toni went to the refrigerator for milk. She wasn’t feeling so tired all of a sudden. Perhaps it was best to confront Susan before she had a decent night’s sleep. Toni might find herself in a rational state of mind if she rested, and rational was not what she was going for.
She listened with half an ear as Birdie enthused about school and her chickens and as Grandma talked about her last trip to Wisconsin and the antics of her Pomeranians, but Toni didn’t feel like sharing tales of her own adventures. She was still rattled by everything that had happened the night before. She’d picked up a copy of the tabloid at the airport, but had been too disgusted to read it. She was sure every word written had painted her lover and her friends in a terrible light. As Toni sat there stewing, her anger and indignation began to boil over.
Someone grasped her arm to gain her attention. “So why did you get fired?” Grandma asked. “From what little your mother said, it sounded like you were doing a fine job.”
Toni lowered her eyes. “It was a misunderstanding. I’d like to claim the entire fiasco isn’t my fault, but it is. I wrote some incriminating things about the members of the band in a journal—with no intention of publishing a word of them—but the diary ended up in the wrong hands and all the secrets were published in a tabloid.” She glanced at Birdie, who was suddenly sliding under the table. Getting bored, most likely. “You better go feed your chickens before school.”
“Toni?” Behind her thick glasses, Birdie’s eyes filled with tears. “Are you in trouble?”
Toni scooted closer to her on the nook bench and gave her a hug. “No, Buttercup. Everything is fine.”
Birdie clung to her, sniffing tears. “I want you to come home, but I don’t want you in trouble.”
“I’m not in trouble. I promise.” Toni reached for a napkin and dabbed at Birdie’s eyes. “Don’t cry.” In the emotionally