Page 12 of You Were Warned: Part One

“Good.”

He folds the napkins and shoves them into his pocket. “It might get complicated.”

“Didn’t you say a few weeks ago that you love complicated?”

His smile widens as he nods. “Thanks for the advice—I will bring you more tomatoes.” He leaves and passes Kayla on her way inside.

As she cheerfully says that something smells good, I let her know it’s in the pan, but I have to rescue Pretty Boy and take him home. She laughs and agrees that’s a good idea before Vesper deep-fries him for lunch.

I need to build him a bigger aviary; it seems he can escape his current one. He also likes to antagonize Vesper, which is not a smart move on his part.

Vesper

My phone rings at nine on the dot, which is how I know it’s my dad before I even look at the screen. He’s called me at nine a.m. every third Saturday of the month for the last four years. He has never been late and has never missed a call. My mother, Odessa, thinks he plays golf—which he does, after he calls me.

I pick up on the second ring. “You’re on time.”

He laughs. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t.” I take my coffee from the counter and move toward the window.

“You answer like that every month.”

“Because it’s a fact, and I know it annoys you.”

“I have good qualities, Lavina, and punctuality is one of them.”

“Name another,” I joke, and he pauses, then changes the subject.

“Your mother is redecorating the east wing.”

I roll my eyes because I hate talking about her. I have nothing nice to say about the woman, but I know he loves her. “Again?”

“Third time this year.”

“What was wrong with it this time?”

He snorts. “I made the mistake of asking her the same thing.”

That makes me laugh. “Rookie move.”

“I have been married to the woman for thirty-one years; there should be a point I stop making these rookie moves.”

“There really should be, Dad.”

“Apparently there isn’t,” he says, and I hear his car beep, so he must be at the golf club. “Instead, I’ve stopped getting attached to the furniture.”

I snort through my coffee and move to check on Cinnamon, just to make sure she hasn’t escaped again today.

“How’s the island?” he asks as I bend down to peer into Cinnamon’s tank.

“Good.”

“Just good? You need to give me more than that.”

“Do you want me to make something up?”

He laughs lightly. “No, I simply worry about you.”