Shelter from the Storm

[sorry if this comes up as a double post!, I had to fix something...]

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a/n some film quotes here...enjoy

Zoe is 4.

Chapter Forty-three ~ Pink Lemonade —

When life gives you lemons, honey, make pink lemonade!

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''Daddydaddydaddy! You're here!''

Well, yes. But...

I caught my whirlwind little daughter and gave her a hug.

"We are having a tea party! You're right on time!"

My daughters were spending a week or so at the beach with my aunt Olivia. But that's not why I was here.

"Tea party?" Tank loomed up behind me and we both stared. The kitchen table was set with a jam jar of wildflowers, a blue and white checkered cloth; there were little white plates with blue flowers...and large martini glasses suspiciously full of something pink. Killer the Pug sat nearby, alert and ready for cookie crumb action. He was wearing a big pale blue satin bow. He saw me and waddled over, gave a snort.

"Hey, dawg," I said. Love the bow, boy. Very manly.

gggrrrrr.

Zoë peeked around me and scowled. "Tankie? Hi, Tankie! But where is mommy?"

''Uh...''

''Lookit! We made peppermint short stuff...''

''Shortbread,'' said Olivia.

"...cookies!"

And indeed there was a platter of beautiful pink tinged cookies.

"Ooooh! they are so yummy! I stirred them all by myself! And cut them out with this special heart cookie cutter thing. It is very old! And we made blueberry jam, and scones, and and and...I think I'm confused but I am not sure!—why isn't mommy here? Tank is not my mommy."

''Your mommy and Aunt Lula are working, baby. But Tank loves cookies."

''Absolutely." Tank nodded bravely.

Olivia grinned—maybe a tinge evilly?—and said, "Sit down, boys. There's plenty."

Tank pulled out a chair and sat. Traitor.

"Daddy! This is pink lemonade!'' Zoë pointed at the martinis.

Oh thank god!

''I'll have lemonade,'' agreed Tank.

Olivia patted my shoulder. ''I have plain iced tea, honey." She opened her mammoth glass-fronted Sub-Zero fridge and peered inside.

I asked her, "Where is everyone?"

"Monster is out by the pool..."

I glanced outside. Yeah, there was Zoë's bodyguard, unfortunately dressed in blue and green flowered board shorts and a clashing Margaritaville parrot shirt. I hoped it was covering his guns. He had his own iced tea, a thick 'beach reading' novel, and flipflops. Not a pretty sight.

''And?''

Olivia gave me a Don't take that tone with me look. Tank stuffed his face with another cookie. Passed one down to Killer.

''Anthony took Julie and Britta surfing, he said the waves out at Montauk would be awesome because of that storm, Beryl?, down south last week. Julie is getting to be a very good surfer, I understand.''

I thought about frowning and said, "I've been trying to call Anthony all morning, I need his, uh, input. I figured he was on the golf course and not answering."

"Nope,'' said Zoë, ''Surf's up, dudes. Radical. But then they said I was too little. Huh! Isn't that mean! But I am having a tea party instead. And Jorge went with. Uncle Anthony said he'd give him a lesson too. He has taught Britta already, but mostly I think he likes to see her in her teeny weeny bikini. I hope the top does not fall off this time!"

Tank coughed.

Jorge—Georgy—is Julie's bodyguard; Britta is Zoë's nanny. Both my employees are obviously AWOL.

I frowned visibly this time. But no one noticed.

Olivia opened the back door and called, "Arkady! Tea is served! We made scones!"

Arkady appeared almost instantly.

"Working hard, I see," I muttered sarcastically. Arkady hitched up the boardies, no doubt a loan from my brother, as they had quite a large hole in the ass, I noticed, when he turned to help Olivia with the tea pitcher.

Now he looked at me, scratched his hairy white chest and nodded. "I am doing the research, my boy. I am reading this bounty hunter book, called One for the Money. In it a young woman becomes a badass bounty hunter, as I hope to be someday."

I knew Arkady wasn't so happy being a fulltime bodyguard for my daughter. And he was pissed off that Dragan aka Dave, another old friend/ new recruit was allowed to work Rangeman jobs. I was training Dave for sales, though, he can talk anyone onto anything. (Or he kills them? Just kidding. Really.) Arkady has different skills. (Sort of. At least he doesn't surf!) But now was not the time to debate or discuss this.

Fortunately Zoë interrupted our stare-down. "Daddy! We are making a quilt!"

"A quilt?''

I returned my attention to Zoë, who reached in the pocket of her little faded pink shorts and dug out a wad of cotton cloth. The cloth was pink, and ugly yellow, and brown. I said, "Hmmm.'' Quiltmaking was a part of summer at Olivia's, just like getting fresh blueberries at the farmers market was, and surfing, and making cookies with your favorite choice from her huge collection of antique hand-forged cookie cutters.

However the colors here...

Zoë smoothed it out carefully on the table. "It will be for Amy!" Amy was seated across from Tank. She smiled vacantly, ate nothing.

Amy is Zoë's rather creepy American Girl doll. Zoë did not want a little girl doll who looked like herself; instead she had asked for the blonde, blue eyed Early American Prairie Girl doll. Stephanie and I decided not to make an issue of the blonde hair thing. What made the doll—dolls, really—creepy was the weirdly spray-tanned surreal plastic skin, and fake ''real'' hair (long glossy tan braids in Amy's case) and demented eyes. "It is authentic!" Zoë told us proudly.

Olivia told me, "We used an antique doll quilt for inspiration."

I gulped my tea.

''And guess what else! Izzy was here and she is making a quilt too!"

Both Tank and I cringed. "She's here? Now?" asked Tank. We looked around cautiously.

''No, she went to tennis lessons."

"She won't be back for an hour or so,'' added Olivia.

I know we shouldn't be afraid of a little seven year old child but Izzy! The child is a witch.

Tank said carefully, ''Did her parents get everything straightened out with, uh...?''

Olivia shrugged. "Oh it was just a misunderstanding. The report makes it crystal clear...just, you know..."

''But she terrorized the teacher with a USB cable!" said Tank.

''He was a..." Olivia raised her eyebrows, glanced at Zoë.

Who yelled, "A BAD MAN!"

''And she was only defending herself. With the USB thing. Not the whole cable, just the little flash drive. I mean, how could that hurt anyone? Really? We still have no idea why the man exploded."

Zoë whispered loudly, ''It was a freakin' mess. She told me!"

"High blood pressure?" offered Tank weakly.

"Uh huh." I actually stuck a cookie in my mouth.

Only Izzy could scare someone to death with a thumb drive.

Jilly and Nick's daughter had stayed after school to work on an end-of-the-school-year history project with a group of other fourth graders. (She skipped a couple years, she's a genius.) Somehow the history teacher cornered her in the empty media supply room, he scared her and she panicked. Thankfully she wasn't armed, but she somehow chased the guy outdoors, brandishing a USB drive and...the rest is still unclear. Let's just say a child molester got what he deserved?

Olivia smiled at me. ''You wanna see Julie's quilt, Ranger? She liked the Amish Stars idea."

''Amish Stars?''

"Uh-huh. It's, you know, black."

the end of the story, series tbc

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