Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries) by Linda Ross (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📗

“There’s no shame in it, I’m sure,” Emma said.  “Personally, I belong to Weight Watchers.  And it’s done wonders for me.”

“Don’t say it,” Eileen warned me in a whisper.

I gritted my teeth and managed to keep my mouth shut.  But it wasn’t easy.  And I shot a dark look at Momo.

“Really,” Emma said to me, “you should write your autobiography.  I mean the divorce and the drug abuse—I guess maybe that’s why he divorced you—and you come back to win a Pulitzer.  What a story.”

“Oh, it’s a story all right,” I said.  “And I really need to get back home, seeing as I got a death threat yesterday.”

“Oooooh,” Emma said, her eyes widening.  “Was it from your drug dealer?”

My teeth were clenched all the way to the car.  Once we were on our way, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  It didn’t help.

“Why on earth did you tell everyone I was in drug rehab?” I demanded of Momo.  “And that I’m nominated for a Pulitzer?”

“Who has a Howitzer?” Dad asked.  “I haven’t seen one in years.”

“We’re not talking about a gun, Dad.”

I could see that Momo wasn’t the least bit fazed.

“I thought it would make you sound more interesting,” she said without any remorse.  “Your life is nothing to brag about.  You have a terrible job, no fashion sense and you’re divorced.  At least when the women in this family get divorced they get a good settlement.”

I don’t know how Momo always made me feel as though I was a wayward fifteen-year-old rather than fifty and living on my own.

“Not my fault,” I said.  “And what about Eileen?  She’s divorced.”  Although, granted, she got a good settlement.

“Well, at least she’s engaged,” Momo said.

“What???!!”  I shrieked, and Eileen nearly ran the car off the road.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded of Eileen.

Tiffany and Desi pointedly kept their eyes on their cell phones, busy with non-existent texts, and Eileen cleared her throat and glanced nervously in the rear view mirror.

“It’s not really official,” she said.  “I don’t have a ring yet.  And we haven’t set a date.”

“You’re marrying Ralph?” I asked.  “Ralph, the scumbag lawyer who represented Boyd and took me for everything but the car?”

“He’s a nice scumbag,” Eileen protested.  “I mean, he’s not a scumbag.  He said you had an idiot lawyer.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t afford anyone else, thanks to Boyd.”

This day was shaping up to be just dandy.

It didn’t get any better when we got to the house and Jimmy was gone.  Now I was stuck with family the rest of the day.  I went to my house first and let Nancy out to pee.  Jimmy had left a note on the counter, which cheered me some. I’ll be back tonight with pizza. I’m not sure which was the better news, Jimmy coming back or the pizza.

I called Thelma to see how she was doing and to see if she wanted to go somewhere for a drink or some pie.  She wasn’t anxious to go anywhere in Hannibal after the death threat, so I told her I would pick her up in the morning to head to Arnold.

I braced myself and headed across the yard to Eileen’s house.  Nothing like a whole day with Momo, and I still had Thanksgiving to look forward to.  Talk about plagues.  I think I would take the locusts over any length of time spent with Momo.  And the lice.  The boils were a close call.

The afternoon went about as well as could be expected considering it was spent with my sister, who was apparently engaged to the lawyer who’d made sure I came out of my divorce at poverty level, my aunt, who was a harpie in the guise of a benevolent old lady, and my dad, who needed a hearing aid and wouldn’t admit it.

After a couple of hours, Eileen had that pinched look on her face that heralded a migraine, so I suggested we order some food so she could lie down and not cook.  I called in Mexican and picked up the bag of tacos myself.  Of course Momo said it would give her heartburn and Dad asked why I was ordering Bacos for dinner.  I noticed that both of them had a healthy appetite.  Dad ate three tacos and Momo ate two.  I just sipped a soda, and when Eileen asked why I wasn’t eating I told her Jimmy was bringing pizza.

She brightened at that and offered to put together a salad to bring over, but I told her she could take her salad to Ralph the weasel lawyer.

I know I was being petty, but the divorce still rankled.  It had caught me by surprise.  Not that I’d been wildly happy in the marriage—Boyd could be a bit of a jerk—but I thought we had mostly worked out our differences.  During the divorce I discovered that not only did I not have any ownership of the business, but Boyd had quietly set up a separate bank account with just his name on it.  I guess I was lucky to come out of the divorce with the car.  Boyd sold the house and I got half of that, but it wasn’t exactly enough to keep me in Diet Coke for life.  That’s assuming heart disease wouldn’t take me out in the next few years.  From what I’ve read, cheesecake isn’t that good for the coronary arteries.  I keep telling myself it’s dairy, so it’s good for the bones.

Jimmy showed up with the pizza shortly after I got home.  It was ham and pineapple, one of my favorites.  All right.  Let’s be honest.  They’re all my favorites.  I got Jimmy a beer and I had a Diet Coke.  Nancy got a couple little pieces of pineapple.  Life was good.  Well, except for the death threat.  That wasn’t