Miss Trailerhood by Carina Taylor (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📗

glared at her. “You’re annoyingly stubborn sometimes. Why can’t we pick another country where we can understand what they’re saying? Does Ireland produce any shows?”

She pulled the bowl of popcorn out of my hands. “We’re going to watch the show. You’ll get used to the subtitles.”

As the current show ended on the laptop, Wren leaned forward and began typing away. Eventually, a show appeared on the screen. Bright colors and a catchy theme song greeted me. I didn’t want to like it, but I had to admit, even the opening credits were pulling me in.

But then a loud knock interrupted the new show. I paused it and looked at Wren. “Was Macy coming over tonight?”

Another loud knock echoed through the trailer. Wren shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s me, Frank!” a voice called.

We both groaned. “Quick, hide your wallet.”

Wren closed the laptop, and I grabbed both of our purses from the countertop. We carried our precious loot to the bedroom, and lifting the queen-size bed, we hid it in the cubby beneath there.

“Phew, that was a close one. Good thing he knocked.” I sighed. Wren nodded and went to the front door.

Wren whispered, “He was already here this week. Why’s he back so soon? We could pretend like we’re not home.”

“My Jeep’s kind of hard to miss.”

Wren’s shoulders sagged as she opened the door. “Hi, Frank, how—“

Wren’s words cut off abruptly as she looked past Frank.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a woman who was smiling so broadly I wondered how her teeth managed to stay in her mouth. Her blonde hair had a tint of orange to it.

Frank climbed down the steps to stand by her. Frank was not a small man, not by any stretch of the imagination. Well over six feet tall, he had a broad chest, and his middle wasn’t exactly flat. But the woman next to him was at least a foot shorter than him. And wider. And happier, judging by the look in her eye.

“Wren,” Frank said. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée. Tia. Tia, this is my daughter, Wren. And this is Riley.”

Tia didn’t pay attention to Frank.

“Oh, you precious little darling.” The woman swallowed Wren up in a hug the second she reached the bottom steps, patting her back and squeezing her tightly. For a moment, I thought I’d have to save Wren from suffocation in that ample bosom.

When Tia finally released her, Wren had a look of horror stamped on her face.

“You are just so beautiful.” She grasped Wren’s cheeks in her hands, squishing her lips together. “I’ve been so excited to meet you.” She released Wren and turned toward me. “Oh, come here, honey. I’m happy to meet you, too!” I barely escaped her smothering hug by grabbing our lemonade pitcher off the counter and thrusting a cup toward her when I descended the stairs. “Lemonade? Why don’t we sit down out here and get to know each other?”

Wren—not so discreetly—shut and locked the door to the trailer.

“You’re just so sweet. You belong in Southern Living magazine,” Tia said as she pinched my cheek. She sat down on the wicker couch, and Frank sat down beside her.

It creaked ominously.

We sat there in silence, Tia smiling ridiculously at us and, every once in a while, leaning across the distance to pat Wren’s arm.

“We’re getting married,” Frank announced without preamble.

Wren caught my eye and winked. “Wow. Congratulations, Frank. I hope you guys will be happy,” Wren said magnanimously. I smiled through clenched teeth. Wife number six. She must have some money or something to lure Frank in. He only ever tried to marry someone who could give him something in return.

“I’m just so happy,” Tia gushed. “I can’t wait to be one big happy family. I’ve already bought my wedding dress, and I can’t wait to see you two in your bridesmaids’ dresses.”

I choked on the last sip of lemonade. “Bridesmaids’ dresses?”

“Yes, I picked polka dots. Isn’t that so perfect?”

Wren looked positively horrified. I couldn’t tell if it was because of having to be in the wedding or having to wear polka dots.

I tried my best to salvage the situation. “You know, I’m not sure it’s the greatest idea to have us in the wedding. Wouldn’t it be better for it to be just you and Frank? That way, you can be the center of attention.” I smiled and hurried on at her confused look. “The way it should be. The bride and groom. Just you two. Alone. At the front of the ceremony. With no bridesmaids.”

I kept nodding, hoping she’d agree.

“Oh no, honey, I’m so happy to be adding two more girls to my family.”

This did not sound good. Frank never said a word, just kept drinking lemonade.

“Two more girls?” Wren finally asked.

“Oh, sweetie pie, Frank hasn’t told you?”

Frank hadn’t even mentioned Tia to us, much less her girls.

“I have four girls! I know you’ll all get along wonderfully. We’ll be one big happy family.”

Wren looked like she might be sick.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I stood up. “Oh, I just remembered—Wren!”

Wren looked at me sharply.

“Remember our appointment?” I raised my eyebrows so high that they might have been touching my hairline.

“That important appointment!” Wren nodded enthusiastically. “We can’t be late. See you, Frank. Tia, nice to meet you.”

I grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and carried it inside, grabbed my purse, then headed outside. I locked the door—again. I’m sure Nate would never have let me hear the end of it if he saw me locking the door, but if Frank was still hanging around, there was no telling what he would “help” himself to. One time, he cleared out our entire toilet paper stash.

Wren and I waved—maybe a little too happily—at Frank and Tia as I put my Jeep into reverse, did some expert maneuvering to get around Tia’s giant SUV, and backed us all the way out of our street, not bothering to turn around until I got to another side street.

Wren doubled over with laughter. “How