The Single Undead Moms Club (Half Moon Hollow series Book 4) (37 page)

Chelsea Harbaker, who was watching her child perform from backstage for entirely different reasons, shrank away from Jane and retreated deeper into the shadows. She was having a rough month, having just been ousted as PTA president. After the success of the Pumpkin Patch, Chelsea—flush with new power—had taken to wearing a lapel microphone during PTA meetings. She wanted to be sure that
everybody
could hear
everything
she had to say. And they did. Especially when she neglected to turn off said lapel mic after the November meeting. And went into the teachers’ lounge to complain to her cronies about the “hillbilly idiots” she had to deal with in the parent volunteer pool and how she wanted to tell all of them what she thought of their “little brats.” And started naming names.

Casey Sparks dove for the amp that was carrying Chelsea’s remarks into the meeting room, but Kerrianne grabbed her by the arms and prevented her from turning it off. Casey’s rant was delivered at full volume for every member present.

She was Half-Moon Hollow Elementary’s first PTA president ever to be impeached. Kerrianne was running to replace her in the emergency election in January.

Seeing Jane, I moved carefully through the veritable maze of stacked cafeteria tables and old play props—backward, because I didn’t want to miss a moment of Danny’s performance.

“You know you don’t actually have to show up at all of the school events now,” I told Jane. “I have my bloodthirst well under control.”

“We’re not here because we don’t trust you,” Jane whispered. “We’re here because we enjoy musical performances by elementary-school children . . . That sounded less creepy in my head.”

“I should hope so,” Andrea muttered.

“Just tell her the truth,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “We are here on actual Council business.”

“Nice shirt, by the way,” I told him, nodding toward the T-shirt that read “Don’t look
up
for the mistletoe” with an arrow pointing toward his waistband. “Do I have to remind you that you are at an elementary school?”

“I didn’t know we were going to an elementary school when I left the house,” he grumbled.

I frowned, shaking my head. “Still.”

“So I can’t help but notice that Finn is sitting in the audience, with your dad, which is sort of weird,” Andrea noted, nodding toward the vampire in question.

I shushed her. “Yes, Finn is here as a friend,” I told her. “We’re trying this new thing where we spend time together, and we’re cordial, but we don’t make out. Considering that my dad is with us most of that time, it’s working out better than I expected.”

“And Finn’s OK with this?”

“Well, he’s not thrilled, but he’s not pouting about it, which I appreciate,” I said.

“But I want you and Finn to be together.” Andrea groaned. “He’s all scheme-y and redeemable. Like Loki but with better clothes.”

“Your fangirl shipping issues are not my problem.”

“But what about Finn’s daywalking tendencies?” Jane asked.

“Actually, Gigi’s boyfriend, Nik, thinks he might be able to help him with that,” I said. “Some of the postcurse techniques he’s learning specifically target keeping control of your emotional head space. It’s been very helpful for him.”

Jane sighed. “Well, in other news . . .” she said, glaring at Andrea. “The news we actually came to deliver is that you have been awarded a substantial reward for aiding in the capture of one of the Council’s most-wanted criminals.”

With a flourish, Dick handed me a slender envelope marked with the Council’s insignia.

“Really?”

“It turns out that Crybaby Bob was a hit man of some repute,” Jane said. “And while the Council generally tolerates murder, it finds murder for hire distasteful. Particularly when it causes trouble between the human and vampire authorities. Bob has been on the Council radar for the past ten years. He changed his appearance frequently to put us off. We were looking for someone with a dirty-blond bowl cut and a goatee, which, honestly, should have tipped us off. What sort of vampire has a bowl cut? The international office was very pleased to have him off the streets. And because you did technically defeat him in battle, they added a little something extra to your check. Like a tip that says, ‘Thank you for prompt and polite service in catching our pesky murderer.’ ”

“I thought the ‘defeat in battle’ clause only came into play in cases where one vampire kills another,” I said as I opened the envelope.

“They were that happy to have Bob in custody,” Jane said.

I damn near dropped the slim slip of paper when I saw all of the zeros. “This is the price on Bob’s head?”

“Plus tip,” Jane reminded me.

“That’s a heck of a tip,” I marveled. “This is . . . this is insane. I didn’t know you could fit that many digits in an amount box.”

“I had to have the accounting department process it twice,” Dick said with a hint of childlike glee.

I just stared at the check. I didn’t have to worry about Danny’s college tuition. I could buy us the biggest house in Half-Moon Hollow. I didn’t have to worry about depending on anyone. I was completely independent. I didn’t have to worry about money. And thanks to the delicate peace I’d started with Marge, the specter of my in-laws and their threat to custody of my son was gone. And I didn’t have to worry about my position in the community, because my community had changed.

It was going to be a merry freaking Christmas indeed.

Dick bussed my cheek. “Enjoy your spoils of war, sweetie.”

“See you at Christmas dinner at my house?” Jane asked.

“Danny can’t wait,” I said.

Grinning, I peeked around the backdrop, watching Danny take his big bow. I clapped loudly, whistling through my teeth. In the back of the auditorium, I saw Finn sitting in the last row. He saw me and grinned, pointing to Max’s camera.
Got it
, he mouthed.

I waved back and whispered, “Thanks.”

A good bullfighter didn’t back
down from aggressive livestock or cheek kisses. Especially when those kisses came from his mamaw.

“You were such a good matador!” Marge cooed, smooching Danny’s cheeks. He was a man about it and accepted it without wiping them off.

“Thanks, Mamaw,” he said, holding up his accessories. “Did you see my cape?”

“I did,” Marge said, nodding. “Mom did a wonderful job sewing it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“My sister is having Christmas Eve dinner at her house, and she would love it if you would both be able to join us,” Marge said.

“Christmas isn’t at your house this year?”

“I’m not up for hosting this year. I’m actually looking forward to being a guest for once,” Marge said.

I smiled at her, a little sad. I’d put a lot of thought into our holiday schedule this year. I didn’t want Marge to be alone for her first Les-less Christmas season. But I wanted to try to make Danny’s holiday as normal as possible. He’d agreed readily to waking up in the wee hours so we could have Christmas morning early enough for me. (Honestly, it was only an adjustment of an hour or so from his normal Christmas-morning wake-up call.)

“Actually, while I’m sure Danny would enjoy it, I don’t think Christmas dinner would work for me, what with the smells of the food,” I said. The
also, your relatives drive me insane
was silent but implied. “But we’ve been thinking about Christmas, and we were wondering, what would you think of coming over first thing Christmas morning, after I go to sleep for the day, so you can have all day with him and his new toys?”

“Yes!” Danny crowed. “Santa’s going to bring me all kinds of toys, Mamaw. A castle with real shooting cannons and a remote-controlled fire truck with a real siren!”

“Sirens
and
cannons, hmm?” Marge asked.

I grinned and nodded. “Lots of battery-powered noise.”

“This is payback for that percussion set we got him when he was three, isn’t it?”

“A little bit,” I agreed.

“It’s going to be the best Christmas ever!” Danny cried, raising his hands and hopping up and down.

“You say that every year,” Marge reminded him.

“And I’m always right!”

“Hey, Danny!” Harley came barreling toward us, practically clotheslining my son.

Marge’s eyes went wide as the boys struggled to right themselves, hindered by their costumes. Wade and I had agreed to take the sumo and the matador out for cheeseburgers and milkshakes at the Coffee Spot. And we’d agreed to let them wear their costumes, because we didn’t get nearly enough stares when we went out together.

Wade was shrugging into his coat, watching the kids with amusement. “Hi, Mrs. Stratton.”

“Wade,” Marge said, clearing her throat. “Harley, you did a lovely job playing a sumo wrestler.”

“Thank you!” Harley exclaimed. “We’re gonna go get milkshakes. Except for Miss Libby, because eating people food makes her throw up. Like buckets and buckets of throw-up.”

“Thanks for the visual, sweetie,” I said, patting his sumo topknot.

“Buckets,” Harley said again.

Wade grinned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I caught the slightest frown flitting across Marge’s features, but she was graceful enough to school her face into a neutral expression. “Thanks for the sumo save,” Wade said. “I have a lot of skills, but sewing my kid into a fat suit isn’t one of them.”

“It’s a limited area of expertise,” I said, kissing him back.

“Mamaw, are you going to come with us for milkshakes?” Danny asked. “You can have Mom’s burger, since she won’t eat it.”

Marge threw me an uncomfortable glance. “Oh, well, I’m sure your parents didn’t plan on me—”

“Actually, we’d really love it if you came with us,” I told her. “Danny’s told Harley all about you.”

“I have questions,” Harley told her.

“Well, that’s very sweet of you. In that case, I accept,” Marge said, taking both boys’ hands.

“Danny, I can’t remember a more riveting rendition of a Lionel Ritchie song.” I turned to find Max and Finn standing behind us. Max was grinning full-bore and held out his hand for a big high five from his grandson. Finn was smiling but somehow also staring Wade down, as if he was calculating the best way to get rid of his body without tipping off the Council. And while Wade’s grip around my waist tightened slightly, his expression didn’t change.

This was awkward.

“Er, Wade Tucker, this is my sire, Finn Palmeroy. Finn, this is Wade. And my, uh, Danny’s grandmother, Marge Stratton. Marge, this is Finn Palmeroy and my father, uh, Max Kitteridge.”

“Your father?” Marge exclaimed. “I didn’t know you knew who your—” She stopped herself and cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you’d met your father, Libby.”

“Charmed,” Max said, raising her hand gently and kissing her knuckles. I lifted an eyebrow at the gesture and prayed Max was just trying to be polite. But he winked at her, so . . . that was not making me comfortable.

“Yeah, isn’t it cool, Mamaw?” Danny chirped. “I have a vampire mom
and
a vampire grandpa.”

“Well, that certainly explains why you’re so young,” Marge said.

“Age is just a number, Marge,” Max said smoothly. “Or could I call you Marjorie? You don’t strike me as a Marge.”

Marge tittered. I’d never heard someone titter, but she did it, brushing her fingers through her hair. And Max, well, he didn’t look insincere in the admiring stare he was giving her. I glanced back and forth between the two of them with growing alarm while Finn and Wade seemed to be locked in a death-grip handshake-athon.

“Yes, I’ve heard so much about you,” Finn purred, his knuckles tightening around Wade’s.

“Really?” Wade asked through gritted teeth. “Because Libby hasn’t mentioned
you
all that much.”

And yet more awkward.

And it was always going to be this way, because I’d chosen Wade. Finn was always going to be a little bit tense, but he would have to adjust. And Wade . . . well, Wade seemed to be holding his own, because based on his descriptions of some of his crazy redneck relatives, I could see how Finn wouldn’t seem so threatening. I cleared my throat and caught Finn’s eye, giving their clenched hands a pointed look. He huffed, but he loosened his grip on Wade’s hand. Wade tried—quite manfully—to cover up the fact that he was wringing the blood back into his fingers.

“Well, boys, I don’t think I’ve ever seen better theater,” Finn said, dropping to the boys’ level to give them both high fives. “Moving and heartfelt.”

Danny hooted. “You’re so weird, Mr. Finn.”

“Says the guy wearing a matador costume in western Kentucky,” Finn said, tickling Danny’s sides. Danny giggled while Harley retreated to Wade’s side.

“And you still have a bad-guy beard, so there,” Danny squealed.

I smiled at Finn and Max, who was still giving Marge what I can only describe as middle-aged vampire Blue Steel. “We’re going to the Coffee Spot for milkshakes and burgers. The diner also happens to stock Faux Type O. Would you like to join us?”

“Yes,” Max said immediately.

Finn nodded. “I would enjoy that.”

And Marge was staring at Max. Hard.

Oh, boy.

“OK, we’ll meet you there,” I told Marge. “Could you get us a table? A
big
table? It’s going to take us a while to load the sumo into my van.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Finn said, winking at me before walking off.

“Can I walk you to your car, Marjorie?” Max asked, offering her his arm.

“Oh, well, thank you,” she said, fluffing her hair again.

I stared at the unlikely pair crossing the parking lot. Nothing good came out of Half-Moon Hollow parking lots.

I took a deep, unnecessary breath. I would find the positive in this. I had friends. Scratch that. I had
family
, the large extended family I never thought I needed growing up. People who loved me for me, not for what I could do for them or what I represented but for me. Now I just had to figure out how to blend them with the people I was actually related to.

Wade sidled up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. In the distance, I could see Danny shoving Harley into my van, throwing his whole weight against the back of his friend’s fat suit. “So your dad is flirting with Marge. I didn’t see that comin’.”