At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,60

I’m the king of the poker face. But I’m so shocked I speak before I think. “She sold her car?” I blurt out.

Her triumphant smirk makes my blood boil. She reaches into her purse and makes a big show of pulling out her notepad and pen. “Trouble at home,” she purrs. “To the surprise of…absolutely no-one.”

For once, I don’t have a rejoinder. I fetch my gym bag, stalk out to my car, and drive home. I try to call Sienna and she doesn’t answer. I’m so angry I can barely concentrate on work that afternoon. I send Graham an email full of typos, one that he’s supposed to read and then forward to Constantine , and he shoots back a furious reply:

Are you kidding me with this?

I stomp out to the back porch and toss Aceto some treats. “What the hell is with her?” I demand of him.

He blinks his yellow eyes slowly, then walks over and rubs up against me.

“If you’re trying to cheer me up, it won’t work.”

I absent-mindedly stroke him, and he purrs.

“Okay, it’s working a little bit. Very little.”

Ducktape waddles up and fluffs his feathers. When I pet him, he bobs his head and makes a happy quacking sound.

“Why is she being so damn…I don’t know…Sienna?”

But all I get is more purring and quacking. I’ll have to settle for that, I guess.

When she gets home at seven, I’ve given up on trying to get any work done and I’m sitting on the sofa downstairs, drinking a glass of wine and fuming. The biodynamic calendar may say that it’s not a good wine-drinking day, but I do not give a damn.

As she walks in, I hear a car pulling away. Looking out the window, I see that it’s her cousin Cesare.

“Oh, hey!” she smiles at me. “Aceto’s sitting next to you and you have no open wounds. I’d say things are looking up. Where’s Ducktape?”

“On the porch. I fed him, cleaned his water bowl and gave him fresh water. How did the car sale go?”

She looks surprised and a little guilty. “Uh, it went okay. How did you know about it?”

I arch an eyebrow. “Carrie told me. So I assume you’re getting a trade-in or something?”

Her gaze drops. She sets her purse down on the side table by the door and slowly walks towards me, making a show of fussing with her hair. “No. I’m using the money to fix the bottling machine. If you can’t give me rides when I need them, Pamela said she could do it.”

“Why would I not give you rides?” I say, astonished. “How big of an asshole do you think I am, exactly?”

“Well, because… I don’t know.” Her mouth opens and closes, then she shrugs. “You might be busy.”

“My sister obviously knew that you were out selling your car. Why didn’t you tell me you were selling your car?”

She looks away defensively. “It didn’t occur to me. And I don’t have to tell you everything.”

So, it’s like that.

“I see.” Ice coats my voice. “Well, it was really fun hearing about it from Carrie, who’s the number one cheerleader for Team Divorce. After she dropped that little news bomb on me and saw that I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, she pulled out her notepad and started taking notes. It’ll be in the gossip column of the Greenvale Herald that you sold your car and I had no idea, and I can’t even sue the harpy for libel because it’s true. Thanks for that.”

She goes pale. “Oh my God. I put the whole deal at risk. I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you’re sorry?” I yell.

Aceto hisses at me and jumps back, his hair standing on end.

I leap to my feet and stomp towards the door.

“Where are you going?” she calls out.

“I don’t have to tell you everything.”

I slam the door behind me. I’ve never done that before – and now I know why people do it. It’s childish, but it feels really good.

Chapter Twenty

SIENNA

"Something’s wrong,” Aunt Fernanda observes, studying me shrewdly from her chair. She’s been knitting, working on getting her dexterity back. They’ve given her giant wooden needles and extra-fat yarn, which are resting in her lap.

She’s damn right something’s wrong. My husband – I mean Donovan – didn’t come home last night, and he didn’t answer my calls or texts. I was reduced to calling Pamela so she could discreetly ask one of her older brothers, who is now the police chief, if he’d been in an accident