Page 48 of The Cul-de-Sac War

Bree’s mother giggled like a schoolgirl. “You too. You know, if you get tired with all that construction, we have tea—”

“No tea,” Bree cut in. “We’re all out of tea.”

“Or coffee,” her mother added.

“All out of coffee too,” Bree said.

“Or water!” her mother said shrilly as she opened the screen door for Bree. “Everybody needs water sometimes!”

Bree hip-checked the door and it opened.

“You know,” her mother continued, “now that I think of it, we have been having trouble with our faucets. Isn’t that so, Dan—”

Bree dropped the box, pulled her parents inside, and slammed the door shut.

“All right, you two,” she said and turned the deadbolt. “Let’s have a chat.”

When she turned around, her parents sat on the couch like children trying hard to pretend they really didn’t know what happened to that broken vase. She paused, her eyes narrow.

“I know what you two are doing.”

“Now, honey—”

“Shh,” Bree said, shaking a finger at her.

“We just thought—” her mother started.

Bree frowned.

“He’s just so friendly—” she continued.

Bree shook her head.

“And really, quite convenient, him living right next door—”

Bree shook her head faster.

“And it’s not every day dashing young men move in next door, you know. Didn’t you think he was quite handsome, Dan?”

Dan nodded. “And helpful to boot.”

Her mother squeezed her hands together on her knees, sitting on the edge of the couch. “And I saw no wedding band . . .”

“Yes, and I’m sure his girlfriend thinks about that whole wedding band thing all the time,” Bree interrupted, cutting to the chase.

Her mother leaned back into the couch, her brows pressed together. “Girlfriend? Oh well, those aren’t always permanent, you know. Why, you’ve heard how Dan found me—”

“Stole you away, I did,” Dan said, squeezing her shoulder with a twinkle in his eye.

Her mother let out a chuckle. “Straight from that pancake house. With him still sitting in the booth across from me—”

Bree shook her finger at them. “Shh. Both of you. There will be no dating Chip McBride. And more to the point, there will be no plotting in this house to steal Chip McBride away from his girlfriend.”

Her mother flapped a hand. “Of course, honey. You have nothing but a heart of gold. But if you weren’t the one doing the plotting . . . and perhaps someone else just so happened to get involved . . . without your knowing . . . naturally . . .” Her mother’s voice trailed off, and to Bree’s horror, she tapped her nose and winked.

Bree threw her hands up. There would be no convincing them. “Let me get you guys a drink.”

She started moving before there could be any more winking or nose tapping.