The Recluses in the Receipts
Booth pushed back from his desk, and placed the heel of his palm firmly against his lower back, groaning as he did so. Finally! I think that's the last receipt I have to enter from the renovations. Thank goodness. We spent more on restoring this Mighty Hut than I'd thought, and we certainly spent money in more miniscule increments than I remember. I've never seen so many dang receipts. I'm glad I don't have to sit here with an adding machine trying to get everything totaled up. How did Pops and Grams ever do their taxes before computers? Must have been drudgery! He thought to himself. He stood up gingerly, and moved toward the stairs, hoping he'd find Brennan in the kitchen and charm her into fixing his back.
But the kitchen was empty, and he heard muttering emanating from her office. He always found his grumpy Bones rather amusing, although he was careful to keep that opinion to himself. He walked quietly across the family room and peeked in her office. His wife was digging through a filing cabinet, her back to the door. Her normally tidy desk was strewn with small piles of receipts, and her auburn curls were askew as if she'd just gotten out of bed.
"Here it is!" she exclaimed to herself. "This is the last time I listen to Booth about economizing on my personal bookkeeping! Next year I'm letting Kieran handle all the details of tracking my expenses, I don't care how much extra it costs!" Obviously frustrated, she rubbed one hand across her forehead and pushed back her bangs. "Last time I let Angela talk me into having Andre cut me bangs again, too! I hate my hair hanging in my face!"
Booth grimaced and moved to retrace his steps to the kitchen, intending to bring her a conciliatory cup of tea. But it was too late. Brennan had spotted him.
'We'll save money, you said! It'll be like doing a puzzle, you said! Seeley Booth, that's the worst idea I've ever encountered. I've apparently misfiled several meal receipts from my Charlotte book tour last August. I can't deduct our meals without proper documentation, or the IRS will be audit us for sure. Next year we're both letting Kieran do all the record-keeping as well as the accounting! And that includes you, buster!"
Booth managed to look chastened. "I'm sorry, Bones. I had a tarnation of a time getting mine together too. There must have been a million receipts in Pops' old petty cash box. I agree, next year we'll let your accountant take care of it. I've resolved to go to one store from now on to purchase any materials I need for fixing things around the house! Maybe they have a website app for tracking renovation expenses!"
"Booth, that's an excellent idea. I believe Lowe's offers a service of that sort. In the meantime, YOU are going to help me sort through my filing cabinet and desk until I locate those receipts!"
"Can we take a break first, Bones? My back's as stiff as a board; I've been at this since 7:30 this morning, and I'm starving! Whatcha' say we go get breakfast at La Savoie? Their cinnamon rolls aren't as good as Grams but they'll do in a pinch! Grab your coat and let's blow this popsicle stand!"
"I haven't bought any popsicles since last summer when Parker stayed with us, Booth, and I certainly don't intend to sell any of them."
"It's an expression, Bones!"
Brennan's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I knew that; I'm teasing you. Come here, let me work on your back." She moved behind him, looped her arms under his and back around his neck, locked her fingers and lifted him off his feet. Then she bent him forward. "Any better?"
"Oof! Yes, much improved! Feels much looser. I'll never understand how you do that; your fingers and hands are just magic." Booth stretched gratefully, and leaned in for a kiss.
"Perhaps we need to shop for you a new desk chair later today, once we've had some food and located those cursed receipts," Brennan mused aloud. Her expression turned serious. "An egg white omelette with vegetables would be much healthier for you," she chided him as they walked out the front door.
A/N: When I awakened today and checked my email inbox for Fan Fiction stories to read with my morning coffee, there were none to be had. First time that's ever happened since I started being a delighted reader. So I decided to fix the situation. Having just finished gathering my records to bring to our tax preparer, I figured I wasn't the only one relieved to have this task behind me for another year. Tried to come up with an April Fool's Day story, but my brain is too tired. The restaurant's name is an homage to a local place that serves scrumptious cinnamon rolls the size of a saucer. Not as good as my grandmother's, but tasty nonetheless.