Page 9 of You've Got Hate Mail
“No, Daddy. That meant there’s furry bracelets and a dog bone under here.”
Furry bracelets and a dog bone.
Likely actually fuzzy handcuffs and a dildo.
And I know exactly who those would’ve come from, which is a mental image I did not need today. Or any day.
“What’s the rule?” I say to her.
“Puuuuuurrrrrrr.”
“Lavender.”
“We leave things where we find them if they’re not ours.”
“Exactly. Did Mabel or Ginny text back?”
She shows me the phone.
Mabel’s voice text shows as read.
Ginny’s does not.
I add a quick note to Mabel that we’re in the mother-in-law house across the gardens from the main house in case she hasn’t figured that out for herself, then ask Lav to go get the new guest a glass of water and some snacks from the kitchen.
She meows in agreement and dashes out of the bedroom.
Gonna have to check her pockets for secret treats for the cat later, but she’s dependable for being a helper, so I think she’ll be fine out of sight for a minute.
I pull the quilt off the fully made bed—didn’t have a lot of clues this place was occupied, given the pristine state of the bedroom—and I carry it into the bathroom, where I drape it across the whole tub, leaving only Cricket’s head showing.
I push her towel up and off her forehead, then grab the hand towel on the sink and wipe off the suds creeping toward her eyebrows. “Gonna get soap in your eyes.”
She blinks once, then twice, but it doesn’t clear the sheen in her eyes.
“I’m really fine,” she whispers. “I just need to rinse off.”
“Your head the only thing hurting?”
“I’mfine.”
The door slams, and Mabel’s voice carries through the small cottage, getting closer and closer. “Heath? Sorry. The NotoriousP-I-P struck again last night, and I lost track of my days. I thought today was Thursday.”
The Notorious P-I-P.
Also known as Mabel’s great-aunt, Pip.
She’s eighty-five but doesn’t act a day over four. Technically, she owns the whole property. The winery part ceased operations when Pip’s husband died ten or twelve years ago, and Mabel manages house upkeep and the residents who come and go.
She’s roughly my age, and as usual, she’s dressed all in black with auburn hair down to her shoulders, cat-eye glasses over blue eyes, and her sharp cheekbones seeming even sharper.
Pip must’ve been in quite the mood.
No doubt the items Lav found under the bed are Pip’s.
She’s the only person who dates here.
“Hey, Lav. Good job getting snacks,” Mabel adds.
