Page 98 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Chapter Twenty
When Hallie’s mom opened their front door and saw Megan, her face dropped. “Oh. I…didn’t know you were coming.”
“As soon as she heard where I was going for dinner, she basically hopped in my car. You know Megan adores your cooking.” Hallie hugged her mom and wondered why she was so taken aback. Her parents had always treated her best friend like another daughter. Not like a guest. Not like someone who needed a formal invite. This was weird.
She’d needed Megan to come along as a buffer. Hiding that she knew about their purported bankruptcy wouldn’t be easy because Hallie didn’t lie to her parents.
But if it was true? And they hadn’t told her? That was their choice, and she’d respect it, no matter how it complicated her campaign.
At least, that was one way to look at it. The other way was to stop pretending, confront them, and warn them that certain crapbags who owned Swan Cove might spread news of their downfall in a public forum, which would humiliate her parents.
Hallie had no idea which option was best. Luckily, Megan would keep the conversation flowing because she didn’t know any of this, which was lying by omission. Which Hallie hated.
If life was this stressful campaigning for mayor, what would it be like if she was actually elected?
“Hi, Mrs. S. I can’t resist your tamale pie. Or getting a big helping of hugs from you and your hubby.” Megan gave a hug but used it to make a face at Hallie that indicated she was confused, too.
“Well, that’s always nice to hear.” But Pam stayed in the doorway, blocking their entrance.
“Mom, aren’t you going to let us in? Because the flies are sure using the open door to crash the party.”
She gave a whole body shake, as if the flies were actually doing zoomies up her green apron. “Fine. Yes.” And then she tucked her bob behind her ears five times before Hallie stopped counting. It was her mother’s classic nervous tic. The question was—why was she nervous?
They beelined for the living room, but Gene called out, “In the kitchen,” so they U-turned back into the hallway and into the kitchen.
Its look was nobody could afford to remodel since the seventies. Fake mahogany cupboards, cracked yellow linoleum, and an avocado refrigerator that Hallie had to avert her eyes from every time she had the flu because it doubled her nausea. Pam kept it spotless. They ate most meals at the kitchen table.
It wasn’t even set yet. Her dad was in his usual seat (back to the door, ever since his binge of The Sopranos convinced him it was the safest seat). When he spotted Megan, his hand rose to his temple as if a puppet master had yanked on a string. “Oh. Megan. This is—”
“A surprise. Yes. We get that,” Hallie said. “What is going on with you two?”
After a wordless exchange, Gene got up to hug first his daughter, then Megan. “I’m sorry, but you know what? This is fine.”
“Huh. Mrs. S. gave me the ‘fine’ treatment, too.” Megan scooched closer to the doorway. “If you want me to leave, just say so.”
“No.” He snagged the sleeve of her rainbow-striped cardigan. “Stay. We want you to know. We just weren’t brave enough to tell you. We hoped that Hallie would take care of that for us.” Gene pulled out two chairs. “Sit, girls.”
If there’d been creepy organ music playing, the tone of the room couldn’t be more sinister. “Is one of you sick?”
Once all four of them were settled, Gene reached for his wife’s hand. “No, but we are bankrupt.”
Talk about a good news/bad news situation.
Imminent death being ruled out gave Hallie about a half second of relief before she processed the rest of his statement. So, the cat was out of the bag, but they didn’t need to know she’d gotten a heads-up on that status. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“It’s just rotten,” Megan said, reaching across the table to squeeze their hands.
At least them bringing it up meant she could get all her questions answered, because Hallie didn’t understand.
They’d worked the same jobs their entire lives. They weren’t blowing their money on Nigerian princes (well, not after that first time, thanks to Hallie’s intervention). Maybe they’d…oh…balanced the checkbook wrong? Because, yes, they were that archaic they still had a checkbook in its little pleather case. “Are you sure?”
“We’ve already started the process with the lawyer. It isn’t a threat. It’s a done deal.”
Looking back and forth between her parents didn’t wring any more info out of them. Sheesh. So she prompted. “What happened?”
“Planning and hoping doesn’t always work out,” Pam said. There was a catch in her voice that tore at Hallie’s heartstrings.
Gene cleared his throat. “We used all our savings to buy a share in a fishing boat.”
