The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,147

be going back to bed. I have a delivery to make in an hour, anyway.

“Good, you’re all here.” My mother strides into the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes after she walked into my room.

“Morning,” we all mutter back in unison. She doesn’t say another word until she slides into her chair at the head of the table. That’s my grandfather’s chair. At least I know it’s going to be a quick talk. He’ll be down at no later than eight fifteen and he’s got a thing about anyone sitting in that chair.

“We’ve got a situation.” She takes a long sip of her coffee and then passes a sweeping, calculating gaze over me and my siblings.

Impatience makes my throat tight.

“Mom?” Regan, my twin, asks in that way she has of sounding excited when really she’s just as annoyed as I am.

“A family of criminals has just moved to Rivers Wilde,” she says and pauses to look at us as if for dramatic effect.

I share a glance with my brother, Tyson, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. I can’t believe I got out of bed for one of my mother’s gossip-fueled rants. She normally saves those for dinner.

“Okay… what did they do? Wear white after Labor Day? Put their fork on the right side of their place mat?” Tyson quips. My mother rewards him with a glare so frosty he chokes on his laughter and coughs. He drops his eyes to the table to avoid my smirk.

My mother is the self-appointed leader of the Rivers Wilde Decorum and Etiquette Committee. She takes that position as seriously as she does her role as head of Wilde World’s Restaurant and Dining Division.

“No, they broke the law,” she says and looks at us to gauge our reactions. Our blank stares disappoint her and she sneers. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know what you mean,” I say.

“It means Laryce just called and told me that David Lister sold his bookstore to a woman who ruined more marriages in this community than I can count.” She nods her head in the direction of the Lister Estate next door. I shake my head. Laryce Quincy is the biggest gossip on this side of the Rio Grande. She and my mother are thick as thieves.

“She’s living with Lister?” Tyson asks in surprise. His wife and son died in a car accident last year and he’s become something of a recluse.

“God forbid, no. She’s in the little apartment above the bookstore, but they are living in our community.” She says it like it’s a crime.

“Rivers Wilde is everyone’s community,” Regan recites our pitch line sarcastically.

My mother glares at her. “That’s right, Ms. Regan. And I’d like to keep it that way. We’ve taken painstaking care in making sure that the people who live here are going to be upstanding members of our community.” She shakes her head in disgust. “She was in that foster home because her mother went to jail for identity theft and credit card fraud. Now, they’re here to sully our pristine community with the scandal she’s sure to bring along with her. According to Laryce, she’s trying to make a fresh start.” She puts the last two words in air quotes and makes it sound like that’s a crime, too.

“What’s wrong with that?” Regan asks.

My mother slams her hand down so hard that the coffee in her mug splashes onto the table. She leans forward and glares at Regan. “What’s wrong with it is that this is supposed to a safe, family-friendly community. Not a place for criminals on the run to come. I don’t know what is wrong with Lister, selling to a Greer of all people.”

“I wonder why he sold it. It’s been vacant since Jill died.” I’m thinking aloud, but my mother is ready with an answer.

“Because she used to be the most notorious gold digger in Houston. She probably slept with him even though he’s old enough to be her grandfather. Doesn’t matter. Now they’re both here. We all know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. So, there goes the neighborhood.”

I exchange a glance with Regan. We’ve both already decided that these apples have fallen very, very far from the trees we sprung from.

“How old is she?” Regan asks.

“Your age, so, eighteen or so…” My mother waves a dismissive hand in the air.

“Is she gonna go to Lamar?” Tyson sounds excited.

My mother fixes me with one of her eagle-eyed stares. “You’re in charge of delivering catering orders