A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,22

we agree on something,” I muttered with a strained laugh.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Heather said.

“Promise me you won’t do it again, and never to me,” I insisted.

“I promise.”

Shaking my head and wanting to head-butt myself for the direction of my thoughts, I went for it. “Is there a chance Gideon could have planted things in my mind?”

Heather was quiet for a long moment then shook her head. “No. Thoughts can only be planted in the minds of full humans.”

“I’m a full human,” I reminded her.

“No. You’re not,” she corrected me. “Michael the Archangel is your father. You have never been a full human since the day you were conceived.”

“Heather,” I warned with an eye roll of displeasure.

“My bad. John Travolta,” she amended with a grin.

“Thank you,” I replied primly, which made her grin grow wider. “I’m not fond of what you did at all. However, if I’m being honest—which is an oxymoron considering the conversation—I will admit that I’m relieved that I don’t have to lie like a rug.”

“So, I’m forgiven?” Heather asked sheepishly.

Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I eyed her then nodded. “Yes. You’re forgiven, but I expect you to keep your promise that you won’t do it again.”

“Deal.”

My knowledge of the strange and alarming kept growing. I wasn’t sure how much more my brain could hold.

“Put these in your eyes,” Heather said, handing me a small packet.

“What are they?” I asked.

“Contact lenses.”

“I don’t need contacts,” I said, handing the packet back to her. “My vision is perfect.”

“Not to see,” Heather said, pushing them back across the table. “To hide the new color of your eyes. You could light up a room with those peepers.”

“So, I will be lying,” I said, opening the packet and popping them into my eyes.

“I call it living with a few omissions,” Heather said with a small smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

I was getting used to a lot.

And only some of it was good.

Chapter Eight

“What has two butts and kills people?” Jennifer asked as she opened a bottle of wine and proceeded to pour a glass for everyone.

After the initial shock of realizing Tim and Candy had joined the lunch bunch, my friends accepted the new additions and included them with kindness. Jennifer, June, Heather and Missy were some of the best women I knew.

I was doing my damnedest to ignore the ghosts who were in attendance. Thankfully, it was just Steve, Gram and Birdie. Steve hadn’t moved into the light yet even though it was possible now. I was secretly thrilled he was still here. Having no clue how long he would stay, I treasured every moment and was delighted to have him at the gathering. Gram wouldn’t have missed it.

And Birdie? I had no clue why she’d joined the luncheon. She’d be difficult to ignore if she called me a hooker repeatedly and flipped me off for the next few hours. Thankfully, I noticed Gram having a few words with her, and she’d only given Gram the middle finger twice. That was excellent behavior for Birdie. I hoped she’d keep it up. The rest of my deceased squatters were happily watching a Survivor marathon in my bedroom.

“Come on, people,” Jennifer said, handing Candy a glass. “Somebody needs to guess or I’m gonna be crowned the Queen of the World with a face like a baby’s ass.”

Jennifer’s double dose of Botox was holding up frighteningly and exceedingly well. Not a single muscle moved on her face. She was completely Botoxicated and couldn’t be happier about it.

“That’s a pretty high and mighty title for someone touting info about a person with two asses,” Missy pointed out with a grin.

“I have no issue with the title, I just want to know if two asses mean someone has two buttholes,” Candy Vargo chimed in.

Missy let out a tiny squeak and bit down on her lip so hard, I thought she might draw blood. She was desperate to muffle her laugh. Missy’s Southern manners were ingrained like mine. She’d rather die before making someone feel bad.

“That’s an excellent question, Candy Vargo,” Jennifer said, thoughtfully mulling over the logistics. “I’m gonna go with a yes on the anatomical query. Two asses would have to mean two poop holes. Drink up! I brought a whole case.”

Candy covertly glanced over at Gram, who nodded her head that Candy should take a drink. I’d gone from being terrified of Candy Vargo to feeling sorry for her. However, I was sure Gram was correct about the Keeper of Fate secretly