size, but a hotdog can be used in a pinch. Some people use Vienna Sausages, but my cat hates those and I don’t keep them in the house.”
“Okay then,” Charlie said with a polite smile and a nod to Tim. “I’ll just take a bit of Daisy’s blood and then we can move on to the agenda.”
“Works for me,” I said, sticking out my arm and turning my head away. Needles were not my thing.
Unfortunately, my father was directly in my sightline. He wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the photo on the side table. It was a picture of Gram, my mother and me. He slowly raised his hand and touched it so reverently, I felt like I was seeing something I shouldn’t.
Gideon saw it was well and caught my eye.
Raising a brow, he silently asked me if I was okay. I smiled and nodded. I didn’t think he could read my mind, but he was so in tune with my feelings it was eerie… and hot… which led to inappropriate thoughts. Of all the things I shouldn’t be thinking of, my mind went to the daisy-filled magical bedroom. Again, I was fairly sure the Grim Reaper might be able to read my mind. He grinned at me in a way that made my breath catch in my throat.
“Almost done,” Charlie said, capping a tube full of my blood and hooking up another. “You have wonderful veins.”
“Thank you, Charlie.” A compliment was still a compliment even if it had to do with announcing to a room that I had big veins.
“My pleasure, Daisy,” Charlie said, capping off the last bottle, removing the needle and putting a Band-Aid on my arm.
Charlie was sincere and sweet. It was difficult to remember he was the Enforcer and that when he was pissed his eyes turned silver and his fingers sparked.
My father checked his watch and cleared his throat. “Is there a reason we’re gathered? I have business to attend to.”
“You’re lackin’ some manners, too,” Gram said, giving him a nasty look. “However, I don’t like you enough to crawl up your ass. You don’t deserve the time of day from me.”
John Travolta had the decency to look embarrassed. “You are correct. I’m sorry.”
“Lots of mea culpas going around this afternoon,” Heather said, pouring lemonade into glasses. “Why don’t we just try to tolerate each other for a bit?”
“Excellent plan,” Tim agreed. “I have more trivia if anyone is interested.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, rolling down my sleeve and glancing around the room. “Gram, where is Steve?”
“He’s in the cellar with Birdie,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s not doin’ so good.”
“You have a cellar?” Heather asked, handing me a drink.
“Crawlspace,” I told her, then realized this was a good out. I was worried about Birdie and she was next on my list, but I didn’t want Gram here for the meeting. “Gram, could you go to the cellar and help Steve cheer Birdie up?”
“It’s a crawlspace, Daisy girl,” she corrected me.
“Umm… right,” I said, shaking my head. “Could you go to the crawlspace and give her some Gram love?”
“You bet your bippy I can! Dead folks,” she called out. “Let’s go take care of our gal. Birdie is not right in the head and thinks it’s funny when body parts fall off. I figure we can all rip our arms off and put on a little show to turn her frown upside down.”
The squatters squealed and zipped around the living room with excitement at the thought of dismembering themselves and then playing Whac-A-Mole with their appendages.
I really needed to buy some stock in superglue.
“I’d like to go to the crawlspace,” Candy Vargo said. “That sounds like an excellent time.”
“Later,” I told her. “You can go after the meeting.”
Candy rolled her eyes and piled a plate high with Tim’s Wiener Winks.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Heather said, sitting down on the couch.
The clock was ticking and I needed answers.
Chapter Eighteen
I circled the room and made sure everyone had something to eat. It was ingrained in my abnormal DNA that I feed people. It also gave me something to do since my entire body tingled with nerves.
“I’d like to get to know everyone better,” I said, clasping my hands together and pasting a smile on my lips.
“That’s why we were called here on such short notice?” John Travolta asked, surprised.
The smile left my lips. My father made it hard to be civil.
“Yes,” I said flatly. “You have a problem with that?”
“None