property of the one person in the DeLuca clan who had treated her with kindness.
She opened her mouth to apologize, fess up, drop a ten in the Dirty Jar for her sins, when the smaller and rounder of the three, who was holding a basket of pastries and treats, pulled out a truffle and shoved it in Regan’s mouth.
“Don’t talk, dear, you might say something stupid,” she said. And based on the Hasselhoff T-shirt, red boa, and life-altering truffle, Regan assumed that this was Pricilla.
“Oh. My. God,” Regan moaned around a mouthful of chocolate and peppermint. “What’s in this? It’s incredible.”
“If I told you, then I’d have to—” Pricilla sliced a finger across her neck, punctuating the gesture with added sound effects.
Regan smiled at her joke. The other women didn’t.
The one on the left of ChiChi was dressed in a pair of sexually ambiguous pants and a green men’s button-down. She studied the wadded-up flyers in Regan’s hands while clutching a scraggly cat, who had an elf hat Velcroed to its head, against her ample bosom in a protective gesture. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Regan felt the tears well up again.
“Lucinda, don’t make the poor girl cry,” ChiChi said. “She’s had quite a day. Haven’t you, dear?”
Regan nodded and wiped at her face with one of the flyers. Lucinda frowned at the pile of crumpled Randolph posters at her feet.
Regan gave an apologetic shrug.
“Yes, well, next time use toilet tissue.” Lucinda reached into a denim fanny pack and offered up a gingham handkerchief. “It took us hours to make those flyers.”
Regan accepted the cloth, relieved that the older woman was questioning her possession of the flyers and not Mr. Most Wanted himself. After a sniffle, she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, ChiChi. I know you wanted to meet with me about a favor, but—”
“Yes, I had assumed you would come to my office, though.” ChiChi’s maternal stare locked on Regan, who suddenly felt like she had been given a test and failed.
“Yeah, well”—Regan glanced at the flyers—“I got distracted, and I apologize.” She swallowed. “For everything. I know you took a risk hiring me and an even bigger risk recommending Holly to the school. They were already at full capacity and made an exception because of you.” She shifted on the toilet seat, the motion causing it to flush. “But things didn’t work out,” she yelled over the rushing water. “As I’m sure you’ve already heard I was fired, and so Holly and I won’t be staying in St. Helena. So, if you could e-mail me the total costs accrued, that would be great.” Just great.
All three women exchanged a meaningful glance that Regan couldn’t decipher. Then they all smiled and walked closer. Regan wanted to lean back but was afraid she would set off the auto-flush again.
“Let us get this straight—” Pricilla said.
“You want her to bill you for two weeks that you assumed would be free.” Lucinda poked Regan in the shoulder. She had surprisingly bony fingers for such a muscular woman.
“It was a perk of working for Ryo, but you intend to pay it back in full?” The corners of ChiChi’s lips twitched with something Regan didn’t understand, but somehow it reminded her of her mother.
Her fingers strangled the snotty flyers. She hated owing people money, but under the circumstances she saw no other choice. “To be honest, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to pay you back, but if we could set up some kind of payment plan...I know that this is probably not a request you receive often, but if you could make an exception.” Her throat closed on the last word, making it come out strangled.
“Quite the moxie,” Pricilla said.
“Stubborn and honest.”
“It’s refreshing.”
“I won’t take up any more of your time.” Regan stood, smoothing down her skirt, leftover rainwater trickling out the toes of her pumps.
“Sit,” ChiChi ordered.
Lucinda’s cat hissed, sending a reprimanding glare from beneath the fuzzy white ball at the end of his hat.
“Now, Mr. Puffins,” Lucinda cooed, her voice dropping to a soothing singsong.
Over their blue-haired haloes, Regan looked around the room, taking note of the sole exit. Knowing the only way she could escape would be to take out a granny, she grunted and plopped back down on the toilet. Her heart plopped with her.
As if understanding her need to run, the three ladies fanned out, blocking the opening of the stall. So this is what timeout feels like, Regan thought, taking in how ridiculous she looked