“Like say … slapping a polar bear or getting a brain transplant, right?” Landon slid two slices of bacon onto my plate. “Or constantly being slapped across the face and ending up shirtless.”
“Or ending up as a vampire by night and a judge by day,” I added, smiling at Chief Terry.
“Hey, those are great stories.” Aunt Tillie bit into a slice of toast. “Soap operas make the world a better place. I’ve always believed that.”
“You also seem to believe Bay is the leading lady and I’m a supporting player,” Thistle barked, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “We’re about to have a really long talk about that. In fact, you’d better get comfortable.”
I looked to Landon and found him staring at me. “This breakfast isn’t turning out as we planned.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “How would you feel about skipping breakfast and wading through a foot of snow to get home so I can warm you up there?”
“I’m okay with that. But, we don’t have any bacon at the guesthouse.”
Landon glanced at the bacon on the platter and shrugged. “I’m fine with that.” He held out a hand and helped me to my feet, ignoring the way Aunt Tillie growled at Thistle.
“If you want to be the leading lady, mouth, then you have to stop acting like the sarcastic sidekick,” Aunt Tillie snapped.
“You’re sarcastic and still get to be the leading lady.”
“That’s because I’m in a category all my own.”
“You definitely are,” I agreed, watching as Landon detoured back to the table long enough to grab a slice of bacon before directing me toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Chief Terry asked.
“We’re spending the day at home in front of the television,” Landon offered. “We’re watching Netflix, drinking hot chocolate and doing absolutely nothing else.”
“That seems like a long walk in the snow,” Mom said pragmatically. “You can stay here if you want.”
“It does seem like a long walk,” Landon agreed, breaking the bacon slice in half and handing me the bigger piece. “But something tells me it’s going to be worth it.”
“Hey, I’m not done making Aunt Tillie pay,” Thistle called to our backs. “You don’t want to miss what’s to come.”
“We’re not missing anything,” I said. “We’re simply going to spend the day telling our own story.”
“And it’s going to be better than your story,” Landon teased.
“Oh, just you wait,” Thistle said. “My story is going to be epic – and so is your punishment, old lady. You’d better start running now!”
We left them to their fight. It wouldn’t end. We knew that. It was a soap opera, after all. The story there – much like Thistle and Aunt Tillie’s fight – was never meant to end.
It wasn’t such a bad thing – once you discounted the polar bear, of course.
About the Author
I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that.
Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.