Shit, this was getting all mushy.
“You say that now. We’ll see how you feel when I take Maddy to her first heavy metal concert when she’s seven.”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “Over my dead body, kid.”
I patted her hand. “What you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
“Well, speaking of possible future kiddos, how is Gracie?” she asked and I blinked in confusion.
“Gracie?”
Charlotte gave me a funny look. “Uh, your girlfriend dumbass.”
My stomach heaved like it always did at the mention of her name. “Gracie was never my girlfriend,” I corrected her.
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to look confused. “Wait, Mom’s mentioned a girlfriend, I just assumed—”
“Sophie. Her name is Sophie,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Sophie? Why have I never heard of a Sophie? You used to bring Gracie around all the time. Why is there a Sophie now and not a Gracie?”
“Jeez, Char, we were only friends. Nothing else.” God, it seemed all I was doing lately was talk about Gracie Cook.
“Oh. I just thought—”
“You thought wrong, sis. So drop it,” I all but snarled.
“Touchy, touchy. Damn, Mitchie. Take my head off why don’t you?” My sister looked irritated.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Maddy’s giggles drifted in from the living room making us both smile. It was amazing how quickly we could get over our annoyance with each other. Babies were amazing things.
“How about we steal your daughter from Mom so she can have some cool Uncle Mitch time?” I suggested, getting to my feet.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “You’re changing the subject. I know you and you don’t want to talk about Gracie. Which means something juicy happened.”
“Dude, I’m going to hang out with my niece. She doesn’t grill me about things that are none of her business,” I said pointedly.
“I’ll get it out of you eventually. Remember the broken window? I got to the truth of that too,” Charlotte teased and I gave her a playful shove.
“Charlotte, I was ten. You threatened to eat all of the Oreos. I was weak. I think I can withstand whatever you want to dish out.”
Charlotte put her arm around my shoulders. “We’ll see, Mitchie.”
“Gracie, I just finished reading your latest piece,” my editor, Kate Powers, said over the phone.
I was in the middle of taking a drink of my tea but my hand stopped in mid-air, teacup poised in front of my mouth.
“Oh. You did?” I asked a little breathlessly. I had barely scrapped my article together. After the flat tire debacle and the crazy weekend in Norfolk I had been late in getting the piece to her. I figured this was the customary ass chewing phone call for not meeting my deadline.
I could hear Kate clicking her pen over and over again. I mostly worked remotely so I had only met Kate a handful of times. She was a little on the stessy side with mismatched earrings and chronic bed head. But she was tough and expected the best from her staff.
“How the hell you made that falling down estate sound interesting is beyond me. I’m more than a little impressed,” she said, still clicking her pen.
I put my teacup down and gripped the phone tightly in my hand. Wait…so she wasn’t chewing me out? “It was interesting? Really?” I squeaked.
“Well, as interesting as hedges and topiaries can be, but yes. I really liked how you interwove the owner’s personal history as a Vietnam nurse into the story. It really gave it a unique touch. I’ve decided to make it the cover story for next month.”
I leaned heavily against the counter. “Are you serious?”
Kate chuckled. “Oh, I’m very serious. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about possibly coming on fulltime. You’ve been freelancing with us for over a year and your articles are some of the best in the magazine. We’re going to be expanding our online offerings and I’m opening up a rec for a fulltime staff writer. Would you be interested?”