Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (20 page)

Or less.

Chapter 42

When I got home on Friday afternoon, Mom was already in a dither. “We have to hurry!” she squawked, then flapped around the rest of the house hanging black streamers and clots of black balloons. “He’ll be home in an hour. Savvy—go check and see if the cake is done.”

“Me? A cake?” I ruined everything in the kitchen. I even managed to wreck cereal, for crying out loud.

“Don’t ask questions. Just do it!”

I did as I was told. I opened the smallish cooker—that would be oven, to us Americans—and looked at the cake. I jiggled the door handle a little, and the cake wobbled in the middle. That meant it wasn’t done yet. Right? I jiggled the door handle a little more, and a small indentation fell in the center of the cake. I quickly closed the cooker door.

I’d told her not to have me check. “I don’t think it’s done!” I called out. Just then my phone vibrated. A new text.

Hey.

That was all it said.

I didn’t recognize the number, and all my friends were programmed into my phone. Who was it?

Ian! I mean Rhys. Or Ian. I didn’t know which, and I didn’t have time to figure it out right then.

“Savvy! Please come in here and get rid of these shoes and this backpack and all the other junk you’ve left lying around.” I heard the tone in my mom’s voice. It meant
now
.

I ignored the text and gathered all my stuff into a large laundry basket and hauled it up the stairs. Louanne was lying on her bed. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to do.”

“I know,” she answered lethargically. “I’m hurrying.”

“Hurrying like the dead?” This had gone on too long. I had half a mind to confront her right then and there, but my phone jingled. This time it was a ring and not a text. I checked the number. Ian again! I cut it off mid-ring. Louanne rolled off her bed and headed downstairs. I cleaned up my room and then headed down the stairs myself. Mom sat on the couch going over an invisible list.

“As soon as I get the cake out of the oven, we’ll all change into our black clothes.”

“Black clothes?” I asked.

Mom smiled for the first time that afternoon. “Yes. We’re wearing black since it’s Dad’s fortieth birthday.”

Well, now, that sounded fun. A clothing theme. I immediately started going over potential outfits in my mind.

“Then when Dad comes home, we’ll yell, ‘Surprise!’ After he changes we’ll head to Criminal Barbecue for dinner and come back here and open gifts and then—”

My phone rang again, loud. I couldn’t take it anymore. I answered it and said, “Please do not call me anymore. I’m very busy!”

Mom and Louanne both stared at me. “Wow,” Mom said. “That was kind of harsh. Who was that?”

“Rhys’s stupid friend,” I said. “Or Rhys. But I told him I was busy this weekend anyway.”

“Oh,” Mom said. I knew by her look that she thought I’d been rude. And, well, I had been. Which was not like me.

“Well, you girls go change. I’m going to call Aunt Maude and make sure everything is on for tomorrow,” Mom finished.

“What?” I said. “Aunt Maude?”

“Yes, Savvy. Dad and I are going to Mercedes-Benz World in Surrey for his birthday and then for a late dinner out. Aunt Maude is coming to stay with you.”

“Mom! I’m nearly sixteen years old. I can take care of us for the day.”

Mom looked as though she were about to waver when Louanne spoke up. “Please let Aunt Maude come. I really want her to. Don’t change anything.” Her voice was pleading.

“Okay, we’ll stick with the original plan,” Mom said.

Louanne looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She seemed to be ten years old again and not a hunched-over old lady like she had for the past few weeks. “Okay.” She smiled. “Let’s get changed.”

Chapter 43

I’d never been to a fortieth birthday party before, but it was actually okay. I stuffed myself on barbecue and ate cake that had a slightly soggy middle—from hob jiggling, I suspect, but no one said anything. Dad loved his presents and wore his driving goggles all night to get ready for his test-drive at Mercedes-Benz World the next day.

I felt happy. And confident again, like I hadn’t for quite a while. So I made a decision. Nothing more had come of the e-mail saying that someone knew my identity. It had just occurred to me that the person who wrote it probably didn’t know me. It was sent to the Asking for Trouble e-mail address, after all. Who knows? Maybe it was someone trying to fake me out. I wouldn’t answer the e-mail. If I did,
then
the person would be sure to know who I was.

Just the kind of bad journalism someone like Natalie was capable of. I wasn’t falling for it.

Chapter 44

“Hullo, dears.” Aunt Maude breezed into the house and hung her British nanny cape on the hook just inside the door. “I’ve brought the Stinking Bishop with me.”

Louanne and I looked at each other. Then I discreetly went to the door as Aunt Maude headed for the kitchen. I opened the door and looked outside. No bishop there. Or pastor or priest or anyone else.

“Who did you say you brought?” Louanne asked sweetly.

“Not
who
, dear,
whom
. If you’re going to speak English, please speak it properly. And in this case, it’s not
whom
, but
what
.” She reached into her bag and took out a large wedge of runny cheese wrapped in waxed paper. “Stinking Bishop. Smells bad but tastes lovely. For lunch, of course.”