A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,56
Sucking in a huge breath, bouncing on her toes for a few minutes and then finally letting out a pained groan, she did as she was told—kind of. “Gram says I have to say I’m sorry.”
The dead squatters applauded Candy’s shitty apology, but Gram was having none of it.
“What the ever-lovin’ hell kind of apology was that?” Gram hissed.
“It was fine,” Tim said with a chuckle. “For Candy, it was exceptional. I accept.”
“Daisy,” Charlie said, placing a leather case on the sofa. “Do you mind if I draw some blood before we get started?”
Now was as good a time as any. John Travolta seated himself on the armchair that Candy had been hiding behind and watched silently. He was uncomfortable being here, and I didn’t care. In the Land of Make Believe, I’d dreamed of having a father. In the Land of Reality, it sucked. I didn’t want him in my home. Missy had given me sage a while back and I planned to put it to good use later this afternoon.
My gut said Darth Vader hadn’t planted the false information in Gram’s mind, but my gut had been wrong many times. If it had served his purpose to do it, he would.
“Normally, I’d do this at the lab,” Charlie said in his kind way. “But since I was coming by, I thought we could get it done lickety-split.”
“Sure,” I said, handing Tim the odiferous platter then rolling up my sleeve. I was happy I’d downed a soda and ate a bunch of cookies. Giving blood made me light-headed. I had no clue how much blood Charlie would need to take. “What will you test for?”
Charlie pulled out some needles, syringes, tubes and antiseptic wipes. “Irregular DNA and other abnormalities. I was able to pull your file from last year’s physical so I have something to test the new data against.”
“Is that legal, Enforcer?” Candy queried with a grin.
Charlie turned his attention to Candy and gave her a look that wiped the grin right off her face. “That is the pot-calling-the-kettle-black kind of question from you, Karma,” he said, sharply. “I’d suggest you rethink speaking. It won’t end well… for you.”
I was relieved Charlie didn’t blast Candy with a bolt of lightning. I’d already had the discussion with Gideon about electrocution being off limits in the house. I was not looking forward to having the same conversation with Charlie.
Refocusing on me, Charlie smiled politely. “Daisy, is there anything you’d like me to check while I’m at it?”
“Umm… I think you have it covered,” I said, digesting the word abnormalities. I could tell Charlie right now I was abnormal—no blood test needed.
“After Charlie drains you dry, I have sustenance for you, Daisy,” Tim said, walking over to the coffee table.
“That’s a joke, right?” I choked out.
“It is,” Tim said proudly. “Not many get my jokes like you do.”
“I didn’t,” I muttered under my breath as Charlie chuckled.
Shoving the snazzy hors d’oeuvres over, Tim made room in the very center for his edible offering. I held my breath as he removed the foil. I was pretty sure I was going to have to eat one of whatever he’d brought.
“Tada!” Tim said as everyone stared in confusion at the platter.
“What in tarnation is that?” Gram asked, hovering over the table to get a better look.
“I’m glad she asked before I did,” Candy mumbled.
“Is it s’mores?” Heather asked politely.
“No. I don’t think so,” Gideon said, squinting at it. “There’s bread on it and something I believe was pinkish at one point.”
“My bad,” Heather said quickly. “I thought the burnt part might be marshmallows. I just love burnt marshmallows,” she added, realizing she’d just insulted the hell out of Tim.
Thankfully, Tim’s lack of social skills made it very difficult to insult him.
“It’s Pigs in a Blanket,” he informed the group. “I might have overcooked them a bit, but I’m sure they’re still delicious. My cat loved it, and she’s quite picky.”
“They look wonderful,” I lied.
Pulling out his trivia notes, Tim gave us a quick lesson on charred, bread-wrapped hotdogs.
“Pigs in a Blanket are also fondly known as Devils on Horseback, Kilted Sausages and Weiner Winks.”
“I call ’em cocktail weenies slapped in a biscuit,” Candy offered as she grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth. “A little crunchy, but edible.”
Tim was thrilled with Candy’s assessment and felt the need to further enlighten us. “Very easy to make,” he went on. “It’s simply a small frankfurter wrapped in croissant dough. The wieners are typically small in