Barbara was the giant, glittery highlighter, which made sense since, although her oldest child wouldn’t be in high school for at least another five years, she demanded to chaperone all school dances while using a bullhorn to mortify horny teens. Maybe Barbara had given the school’s principal her secret to the perfect ponytail. If Mrs. Ritter gave Hunter the recipe for a long, shiny ponytail that curled at the end like an upside-down question mark, Hunter would let her do pretty much anything.
“Yes!” Jax hissed like a stuck balloon and crawled between two large pots of flowering shrubs before he disappeared under a table covered in ivy.
Hunter bent over and parted palm-sized leaves and scarlet blooms that waterfalled like spilled cranberry juice over the lip of the pot to look down at Jax. “Why are you hiding?” She looked back at Mrs. Ritter and her friend who, aside from the neon-ness of one and the spray tanned–ness of them both, were two completely normal women.
Jax pressed his finger against his lips and frantically waved for her to join him. With a groan, Hunter obliged. Ivy stems brushed against her back and her palms smashed fresh earth as she crawled under the table and squatted next to him. “This is ridiculous,” she whispered and wiped the dirt from her hands. “Why are we hiding?”
Jax blew out a puff of air, leaned forward and drew the curtain of ivy closed, and settled back against the ground. “I kind of saw her…” He moved his hands in front of him like he was juggling invisible balls. “Chest?” He winced and shook his head. “Her boobs, okay. I saw Mrs. Ritter’s boobs.”
Hunter clapped her hand over her mouth and nearly toppled onto her butt.
Again, Jax pressed his finger to his lips. “My dad made me fix that rotted spot in the fence. I had a few boards down and she just, you know…”
Hunter’s jaw flopped open. “What? Took off her shirt and said, ‘Here Jax, please gaze upon my heaving bosoms’?”
“No!” Another hiss. “She was tanning, topless, and I saw her and didn’t exactly look away.”
Hunter dropped her head into her hands. “Jesus, Jax!”
“I know!” he said as he ran his hands down his cheeks. “I’ve apologized and said I’d mow her yard this summer for free. She declined, so I decided that my best course of action is to avoid her until I move away for college.”
Hunter shook her head. Her ponytail slipped off her neck and hung limply in front of her shoulder. “That’s in two years.”
“Exactly why we’re hiding.”
Barbara Ritter’s sparkly tennis shoes threw white spots across Hunter’s vision as she and her friend approached the table. Jax’s eyes widened and he pressed his finger against his lips so hard that the pink flesh around his nail whitened.
Plain white Keds stood directly in front of Hunter. A ring of dirt encircled the sole like chocolate meringue. “Oh, Barbara, what about these? The…” There was a short pause and a ruffling of leaves before the woman continued. “Bleeding amaranthus. It says they get pretty big. If you plant them right along your fence line, they should block out your neighbors.”
Jax’s face lit up like a stoplight.
Barbara’s sparkles inched closer to the large pots just on the other side of the ivy shield. “But the name, Susan. Bleeding amaranthus. I couldn’t bear to have anything planted on my property with the word bleeding in the name. Not after what I overheard this morning.”
The Keds spun to face the garish sparkles. “I knew there was something you weren’t telling me. You may have re-upped your Botox, but I can still see it written all over your face. Spill!”
The gold-sparkled toes wiggled like two puppy butts. “Deputy Carter was pulled up outside of the Coffee Spot this morning. Windows down, practically yelling into his phone about Dominic Parrott.”
Hunter’s breath caught in her throat.
Susan sighed and her Keds relaxed and parted slightly. “I’ve always felt so sorry for Dominic.” Another sigh. “That depressing job and practically raising his daughter alone while his wife is off on all of those business trips doing God knows what. Although I did see him at the IGA just a few days ago. He’s leaving soon for some funeral services convention.” She paused. “I suspect that’s code for getting the H-E double hockey sticks away from my terrible wife.” Susan sucked in a breath and her heels lifted and settled back against the gravel. “Maybe I should bring him a plate