(Not) The Boss of Me - Kenzie Reed Page 0,105

uncharacteristically out of breath and rumpled. He’s holding a gift-wrapped box. “Made it!” he cries. So the deal went down after all. He’s returned with the goods.

“What have you done?” Alice asks me in a low voice.

“Ensured my niece’s happiness. Well, Henry contributed, of course. As always. Have I ever told you that you’re a treasure, Henry?”

“I do not believe you’ve used that particular combination of words in reference to me before, no, sir.” He hands me the box. The gift-wrap is white with big colored polka dots, tied with a red bow.

Tamara comes bolting towards me, reaching for the box, with her father hot on her heels.

“That’s my doll! I know it!” she shrieks. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Alice snatches the box and holds it up high over her head.

“Tamara.” Steve ruffles her hair with his hand. “Did we talk about this?”

“Did we?” Tamara scrunches up her face and squints her eyes as if trying to remember.

Steve looks at Alice. “Your daughter,” he says with mild reproof. “And her highly convenient situational amnesia.”

“Oh, now she’s my daughter,” she scoffs. “When she got all As she was your daughter.”

“Did you forget our wedding vows? To love, honor, and only claim our offspring when she’s being cute or giving us bragging rights?” He blows her kiss.

Tamara rolls her eyes and sighs hugely. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. Thank you very much for whatever is in that box, Uncle Blake.”

“That was very nicely said, sweetheart.” Alice gives me back the box.

Tamara narrows her eyes at her mother. “I’d have said just about anything to get you guys to stop with your comedy routine.”

“Hey! Hey! Wait up, guys!” A familiar voice sends my heart singing. Winona comes barreling through the door into the foyer.

“You’re back!” I blurt.

I don’t care how or why, but she’s here, at my house. I could swear the sun just slid out from behind a cloud, beaming its rays through the foyer window and chasing away the shadows.

Winona’s hair is wild, curls in her face, a lock sticking to her lip gloss. Her pink blouse, adorned with dozens of sewn-on tiara-wearing mice, is halfway tucked into her jeans, half hanging out. She’s got a package in her hands, and she’s breathing hard.

She brushes the hair from her mouth. “I made it!” she cries out. She looks at me. “I made it,” she adds, with extra emphasis.

“I can see that.” I lean in and murmur in her ear, “The hell with the contract. I would have found a way to make sure my uncle couldn’t fire you. I’m not above blackmail. I’ve got security footage of him and his secretary.”

Winona gives me a sidelong glance. “A girl can’t be too careful,” she whispers back.

“Let’s take this into the living room,” Steve says. “Come on, peanut!”

We hurry into the living room and set down our packages on the carpet.

Tamara looks back and forth between the packages. “Which one should I open first?”

“Mine,” Winona and I chorus.

“Okay. I am going to open them up both sim-all-taneously. That means at the same time.” Tamara kneels down on the floor. “Watch the pro at work.” She pulls the wrapping paper off both of them, exposing… “Two Sunni Sunni Singer dolls!” she screams delightedly.

She jumps up and down. “Two! Two! Two!” she shrieks. “That means I get to keep one!”

“What do you mean?” Alice asks, puzzled. “Why only one?”

“Oh, I told Melody she could have the doll. That’s why I needed it so bad. Remember her dad left and her mom cried all the time and she was really sad about it? I thought it would cheer her up.”

Suddenly, we all have something in our eyes and I’m blinking really hard.

“I’m not crying,” I say severely to Winona. “You’re crying.” I glance over at the vase of flowers resting on a fluted column. “Henry! Why did you put peonies in the vase when you know I’m allergic?”

I’m not allergic. I’m not even sure those are peonies.

“That is precisely why I put them there,” he says drily. The old softy…his eyes are gleaming too.

Winona sniffles slightly and takes out a tissue from her purse to dab at her nose.

Wait a minute. How did she get that doll?

An ugly flare of jealousy burns in my throat, tasting like bile. I take her by the arm and lead her aside. Tamara’s excitedly tearing open the packaging on one of the other boxes, with Alice and Steve kneeling next to her.

“How did you get the doll?” I demand in a

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