coughed. “That’s pretty much it.”
I glared and was casting around for a rejoinder when I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Then she did the awesome thing I could never resist. When Jessica was trying not to laugh, she sort of swallowed it. That’s the only way I can describe it: her mouth would twitch and she’d fight the smile, and while she fought the smile the giggle would start to rise along with (weird!) her left eyebrow, and pretty soon her face was wrinkled up like a baked apple and the giggle would escape anyway, and now I was giggling, too, which was a helluva lot better than screaming.
“I just wish you could hear yourself sometimes,” I managed and got a hold over the giggles. I was glad something had ramped down the tension, but we still had crap to sift through.
“Betsy, I literally have a ten-dollar bill for every time I’ve wished the same of you.”
I waved that off. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Oh, here comes the ‘I’m fine, it’s everyone else who has to change’ attitude.”
“And here comes the willing victim! Poor Jessica, saddled with Betsy, which is just so stressful, it must be the hour of the martyr yet again—”
“Martyr?” she nearly shrieked. “If only I could, but you’ve been hogging the cross for years . Should we make a list of your ‘problems’? Let’s see, eternally young—”
“Thirty is not—”
“—eternally cute—”
“Again: thirty! Cute is not a word to describe a woman in her thirties. I’m not going through eternity with the ‘cute’ moniker.”
“—a house full of minions to carry out your every dumb command—”
“Minion,” Tina said. “Singular. And if I may shift the discussion—”
“—married to a bangin’ sexy vamp—”
“It’s true, Betsy,” Marc said, “you are.” To Sinclair: “You are!”
“You never have to worry about the bills—”
“Right back atcha, Jess.”
“—you’ve got superpowers—”
“Being able to walk outside at noon is not a superpower!”
“Enough of this. Now .”
Like that, the temp in the room dropped ten degrees. Sinclair hadn’t even raised his voice, but the whip-crack tone got everyone’s attention.
“Be seated and pretend to be a grown woman.”
I had no idea which of us he meant, but it didn’t matter. I sat so quickly I wasn’t actually aware of a conscious decision to sit. The only thing to make me feel better was seeing Jess had dropped, too.
Sinclair settled back into his seat as well. “Tina,” he said, and she turned her head at once. “You were saying . . .”
“Ah. Thank you, Majesty.” She turned to me. “I should like to explore the circumstances surrounding your father’s ‘death.’”
“Don’t use quotes,” I said irritably. “I can hear them, you know. It’s my dad’s death, not ‘death.’ Because he’s dead.”
“As you like, Dread Queen.” Her tone was respectful, polite, and very, very careful. “Please elaborate. There was a funeral, but no bodies. His car was involved, and his identification was found. The assumption by police and the coroner’s office was that he and his second wife were killed instantly. Your stepmother, Antonia, was killed. Yes?”
“Yeah.” As I’d already relived, I’d seen her ghost a few days later. I would not think about what that meant about my dad.
“What about the autopsy?”
I must have looked blanker than usual, because Marc helpfully piped up. “There may not have been one. The ME could have requested one—they have to if the cause of death is in question. Maybe nobody thought it was.”
“Mm-mm. Possible.”
“If there was one,” he added, “the State of Minnesota requires the Ramsey County ME to file the death certificate within five days of the death.”
I stiffened and the angel on my shoulder instantly started yammering. Don’t do it. Don’t. You’re the better person and now’s your chance to prove it!
I’m not, actually. “Good thing the coroner keeps up with
I glared and was casting around for a rejoinder when I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Then she did the awesome thing I could never resist. When Jessica was trying not to laugh, she sort of swallowed it. That’s the only way I can describe it: her mouth would twitch and she’d fight the smile, and while she fought the smile the giggle would start to rise along with (weird!) her left eyebrow, and pretty soon her face was wrinkled up like a baked apple and the giggle would escape anyway, and now I was giggling, too, which was a helluva lot better than screaming.
“I just wish you could hear yourself sometimes,” I managed and got a hold over the giggles. I was glad something had ramped down the tension, but we still had crap to sift through.
“Betsy, I literally have a ten-dollar bill for every time I’ve wished the same of you.”
I waved that off. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Oh, here comes the ‘I’m fine, it’s everyone else who has to change’ attitude.”
“And here comes the willing victim! Poor Jessica, saddled with Betsy, which is just so stressful, it must be the hour of the martyr yet again—”
“Martyr?” she nearly shrieked. “If only I could, but you’ve been hogging the cross for years . Should we make a list of your ‘problems’? Let’s see, eternally young—”
“Thirty is not—”
“—eternally cute—”
“Again: thirty! Cute is not a word to describe a woman in her thirties. I’m not going through eternity with the ‘cute’ moniker.”
“—a house full of minions to carry out your every dumb command—”
“Minion,” Tina said. “Singular. And if I may shift the discussion—”
“—married to a bangin’ sexy vamp—”
“It’s true, Betsy,” Marc said, “you are.” To Sinclair: “You are!”
“You never have to worry about the bills—”
“Right back atcha, Jess.”
“—you’ve got superpowers—”
“Being able to walk outside at noon is not a superpower!”
“Enough of this. Now .”
Like that, the temp in the room dropped ten degrees. Sinclair hadn’t even raised his voice, but the whip-crack tone got everyone’s attention.
“Be seated and pretend to be a grown woman.”
I had no idea which of us he meant, but it didn’t matter. I sat so quickly I wasn’t actually aware of a conscious decision to sit. The only thing to make me feel better was seeing Jess had dropped, too.
Sinclair settled back into his seat as well. “Tina,” he said, and she turned her head at once. “You were saying . . .”
“Ah. Thank you, Majesty.” She turned to me. “I should like to explore the circumstances surrounding your father’s ‘death.’”
“Don’t use quotes,” I said irritably. “I can hear them, you know. It’s my dad’s death, not ‘death.’ Because he’s dead.”
“As you like, Dread Queen.” Her tone was respectful, polite, and very, very careful. “Please elaborate. There was a funeral, but no bodies. His car was involved, and his identification was found. The assumption by police and the coroner’s office was that he and his second wife were killed instantly. Your stepmother, Antonia, was killed. Yes?”
“Yeah.” As I’d already relived, I’d seen her ghost a few days later. I would not think about what that meant about my dad.
“What about the autopsy?”
I must have looked blanker than usual, because Marc helpfully piped up. “There may not have been one. The ME could have requested one—they have to if the cause of death is in question. Maybe nobody thought it was.”
“Mm-mm. Possible.”
“If there was one,” he added, “the State of Minnesota requires the Ramsey County ME to file the death certificate within five days of the death.”
I stiffened and the angel on my shoulder instantly started yammering. Don’t do it. Don’t. You’re the better person and now’s your chance to prove it!
I’m not, actually. “Good thing the coroner keeps up with
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