daughter’s been up to!”
Like?
Click!
No. She needed to focus her energy on healing. I’d have to pretend everything was okay and save the truth for another day. Perhaps after my death.
I dialed, but her cell was once again busy. Maybe because she was overseas? I’d have to call the clinic in Sweden directly, but I didn’t have the number.
I returned to the kitchen, hoping Andrus wouldn’t be too offended by the intrusion. Maybe he just had to see that I was cool with the whole man-nanny-bodyguard thing.
“Andrus?” I called out.
He sat at the kitchen table holding Matty in his arms, the bottle filled with red liquid in her mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Uhhh—cranberry juice.”
I’d done the babysitter gig for a few years in my early teens and never remembered giving anything other than apple juice, water, or formula to a baby that young. “And she likes to drink it warm?”
“She…um. She loves it. Lots of vitamins ’n’ stuff. Is there something I can help you with?”
Alrighty then.
“Is there a computer I could use?”
“In the study,” Andrus replied. “Just through the living room. Help yourself. The password is demilord .”
I thanked him, happy to escape his scathing sneer.
I found the study easily enough. And aside from the breathtaking view, nothing about it stood out: bookshelves, a few family photos on the walls, etc. But despite its normalcy, something about this entire home really struck me as, well…off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I popped open the laptop, typed in the password, and did a quick search, but shockingly found nothing. Had I forgotten the name of the clinic? No. No way. Center for Immune Management and Integrative Lifestyles.Stockholm.
I scratched my head. Why wasn’t it coming up?
I tried several versions of the spelling before deciding it would be faster to call my neighbor.
I dialed the number and Mr. Harris, a retired plumber, answered. He said he had no idea where my mom’s information was, but that his wife would be home in a few minutes. Oddly enough, when I asked if everything was okay after all the commotion, he had no clue what I was talking about.
“So you’re sure? There’s nobody weird hanging around the building?”
“No, Penelope. Why? Are you in some sort of trouble?” he asked.
You bet your plumber’s crack, I am! “No. Everything’s fine. Just some disgruntled ex-boyfriend,” I lied. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
I looked at the clock on the desk. Oh no! I had a karate class to give at seven.
I rubbed my face. I was on the edge of losing my sanity, but keeping what remained of my life intact felt like a necessity. Yes. I would go home, get my gi and other personal items, and stay with a friend until I could figure out what was going on.
That’s right, honey. You take that steering wheel!
CHAPTER 13
“Kinnykins! Oh my God!” Dressed in a floral terry cloth robe, Emma threw her arms around Kinich’s neck. “What enormous cojones you have showing up here!”
Kinich smiled and gave her a tight squeeze. He always did like Emma; she was lively and brave, a bit reckless, too. But then again, she had to be if she was going to marry his brother Guy.
And despite his views on Payals, he couldn’t deny that Emma truly was special. He almost thought of her like a little sister—perhaps because there was a time when Emma had been the gods’ only connection to the outside world (a little unfortunate mishap having to do with the Maaskab).
Emma unwrapped her arms and ushered Kinich inside the luxuriously renovated, 1860s loft mansion. The six-story engagement gift, complete with indoor swimming pool and basketball court, had set Guy back a mere sixty million dollars. A drop in the bucket for a god who had all the time in the world to accumulate wealth.
Kinich’s eyes wandered over the large potted plants, elaborately tiled floors, and rustic furniture. Despite being situated in the heart of
Like?
Click!
No. She needed to focus her energy on healing. I’d have to pretend everything was okay and save the truth for another day. Perhaps after my death.
I dialed, but her cell was once again busy. Maybe because she was overseas? I’d have to call the clinic in Sweden directly, but I didn’t have the number.
I returned to the kitchen, hoping Andrus wouldn’t be too offended by the intrusion. Maybe he just had to see that I was cool with the whole man-nanny-bodyguard thing.
“Andrus?” I called out.
He sat at the kitchen table holding Matty in his arms, the bottle filled with red liquid in her mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Uhhh—cranberry juice.”
I’d done the babysitter gig for a few years in my early teens and never remembered giving anything other than apple juice, water, or formula to a baby that young. “And she likes to drink it warm?”
“She…um. She loves it. Lots of vitamins ’n’ stuff. Is there something I can help you with?”
Alrighty then.
“Is there a computer I could use?”
“In the study,” Andrus replied. “Just through the living room. Help yourself. The password is demilord .”
I thanked him, happy to escape his scathing sneer.
I found the study easily enough. And aside from the breathtaking view, nothing about it stood out: bookshelves, a few family photos on the walls, etc. But despite its normalcy, something about this entire home really struck me as, well…off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I popped open the laptop, typed in the password, and did a quick search, but shockingly found nothing. Had I forgotten the name of the clinic? No. No way. Center for Immune Management and Integrative Lifestyles.Stockholm.
I scratched my head. Why wasn’t it coming up?
I tried several versions of the spelling before deciding it would be faster to call my neighbor.
I dialed the number and Mr. Harris, a retired plumber, answered. He said he had no idea where my mom’s information was, but that his wife would be home in a few minutes. Oddly enough, when I asked if everything was okay after all the commotion, he had no clue what I was talking about.
“So you’re sure? There’s nobody weird hanging around the building?”
“No, Penelope. Why? Are you in some sort of trouble?” he asked.
You bet your plumber’s crack, I am! “No. Everything’s fine. Just some disgruntled ex-boyfriend,” I lied. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
I looked at the clock on the desk. Oh no! I had a karate class to give at seven.
I rubbed my face. I was on the edge of losing my sanity, but keeping what remained of my life intact felt like a necessity. Yes. I would go home, get my gi and other personal items, and stay with a friend until I could figure out what was going on.
That’s right, honey. You take that steering wheel!
CHAPTER 13
“Kinnykins! Oh my God!” Dressed in a floral terry cloth robe, Emma threw her arms around Kinich’s neck. “What enormous cojones you have showing up here!”
Kinich smiled and gave her a tight squeeze. He always did like Emma; she was lively and brave, a bit reckless, too. But then again, she had to be if she was going to marry his brother Guy.
And despite his views on Payals, he couldn’t deny that Emma truly was special. He almost thought of her like a little sister—perhaps because there was a time when Emma had been the gods’ only connection to the outside world (a little unfortunate mishap having to do with the Maaskab).
Emma unwrapped her arms and ushered Kinich inside the luxuriously renovated, 1860s loft mansion. The six-story engagement gift, complete with indoor swimming pool and basketball court, had set Guy back a mere sixty million dollars. A drop in the bucket for a god who had all the time in the world to accumulate wealth.
Kinich’s eyes wandered over the large potted plants, elaborately tiled floors, and rustic furniture. Despite being situated in the heart of
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