Page 45 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Missy.”

“Oh, yeah. Muffy was number two.” Annie resumed her seat.

“Buffy,” he corrected her.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“That’s all right. I know you resent my marriages.” He took one of the two seats across from her desk.

“Aw, dad,” she sighed. “I don’t resent your marriages. I just don’t see why you had to marry someone my age.”

“She’s a year older than you. Now your mother...” he said, but Annie cut him off.

“I know Mom is married to that Swiss ski bum. What’s his name? Hans? Hansel? Something like that.”

“And he’s younger than you,” her father said, looking miffed. “What was she thinking?”

“Probably the same thing you were thinking when you married Bussy.”

“That’s Mussy...ah...Missy,” he said.

“Oh, fine. You don’t have time to shop with your mother, but you have plenty of time to have a tête-à-tête with your father.”

Annie glanced up and saw her mother stride into the office. Her hair was a lovely shade of auburn – albeit from a bottle – which was set off by her snappy Donna Karan suit in a stunning shade of teal. She looked like a woman who always got her way, which was probably why she always did.

“Dad just popped in,” Annie said and motioned for her mother to take the vacant chair beside her father. Without looking down, she opened the middle drawer of her desk and ran her fingers over the contents, trying to find her antacid. Whenever her parents were in the same room for more than five minutes, she ended up with a monster case of indigestion.

“Olivia,” her father rose to greet her mother.

“Charles,” she returned.

Together they took their seats and faced Annie. It was more than a little disconcerting.

“So, what brings you here, Mom?” Annie asked.

“Your sister Mary told me about your new tenant,” her mother said. “I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That you asked him to Eve’s wedding,” her father answered.

“She told you, too? Did she tell you she dared me to do it?” Her parents exchanged a look. “So, that’s why you’re both here? To check up on me.”

Annie popped an antacid tablet.

“Not checking up,” her mother said, casting a quick glance at her father.

“No, not checking up,” he agreed and then cleared his throat. “More like checking in.”

“Huh-hunh,” Annie grunted.

“Hey, boss, things have quieted down out front,” Fisher said from the doorway. “I’m going to stop by the office and see if they’ve turned up any information on the burglary.”

“Burglary? What burglary?” Annie’s parents turned simultaneously to Fisher.

“Uh...” Fisher stalled while Annie made frantic slashing motions across her throat with her finger. He gave her an imperceptible nod.

“My Aunt Josephine’s house was broken into so I’m going to check on the insurance,” he lied.