“Life is a highway. I wanna ride it all night long,” I continued.
“Y’all are weird,” Julia Kate said.
We all smiled a little, and I knew at that moment, everything would, indeed, be okay.
EPILOGUE
RUBY
A month later
“If you need someone to help you, I am happy to volunteer. I could always take a private investigator class. Since I’m nearly divorced, I have lots of time now,” Cricket said to Juke as she sipped her beer out of a bottle at the table where she’d tricked Scott into signing the bank form.
I suspected that she didn’t really love beer. But Griffin always ordered her one as some sort of challenge. This one was a dark beer, so every time she took a sip, she made a face.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to take on a partner. Besides, aren’t you two busy with the whole dress-line-launch thing and all?” Juke said, looking far healthier than he had in a while. He’d started going to AA and working out. Jimbo told me he had even talked Juke into doing some dating sites. The thought of those two swiping right was disturbing, but I didn’t have to worry about it, did I?
With that thought, I darted a glance at the bar, where Dak was chatting up his regulars—three dudes who loved to talk baseball. We had gone on a few official dates, slipping into our past like old friends. Which we were. Both of us were taking things slow. Well, as slow as one could take it when there was all this pent-up passion that had been strapped down for too many years. Not stripping him naked every time I was with him was quite a chore. I had even sat on my hands once. Wish I were kidding. Things were good, though.
And I had started showing up more for family dinners. Gran was grumbling about going to Weight Watchers, but Cricket had been happy because she was something called a “lifetime member,” and she got some points or something for signing Gran up. She even went to the first meeting with my grandmother. So far, Gran had lost weight and had started some new medication. I still wasn’t on even ground with Ed Earl, but I wasn’t ignoring him any longer.
Cricket made a face. “I am a pro multitasker. Ask any PTA member. I can run a store, launch a clothing line, and take pictures of dirtbags at the same time. I mean, I sorta already did it.”
Griffin, who had just come back over to the table from shooting pool in the back, shot her a look. “You shouldn’t do anything dangerous.”
“I’m not,” she said, sort of bristly. “And you know what, Griff? I don’t like this beer. Life is too short for me to waste calories on something I don’t like. Any chance we can talk Dak into getting Michelob Ultra? Or maybe some seltzer-water things. I like those, and they’re only three points.”
“Three points for what?” he asked, drawing a chair over and sitting on it backward.
“Weight Watchers,” Cricket said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She had a nice tan from her trip to Grand Cayman. Turned out it had been for naught because the Department of Justice had already frozen Scott’s accounts, but Cricket’s attorney had said that since her money was hers and untainted, she had a good shot of getting it back into her possession. She, her mother, and her daughter had spent a week there at the conclusion of school and had just returned, tanned and relaxed. Well, at least Cricket was. Her mother wasn’t really the kind to relax, I didn’t think. Julia Kate was going to therapy, and according to Cricket, they were both working through the mistakes she herself had made. Of course, that meant Cricket was overcompensating for the debacle at the luncheon by indulging Julia Kate. She knew she was doing it and had vowed to stop, but I understood, even if I knew it would probably come back to haunt her.
But what did I know? I didn’t plan on having kids or anything needier than a dog.
Cricket’s husband was too busy avoiding jail time to worry about the money at present. Word from Cricket was that he had also petitioned to get the untainted money unfrozen. He was out on bond and had taken a plea bargain to keep himself out of jail. He was a big squealing pig and was living at the Holiday Inn Express. Someone told Cricket that Stephanie had already lobbed her tennis ball onto the court of a recently divorced judge.
“You don’t need to lose weight,” Griff scoffed, eyeing her with something that made my heart sorta squeeze. My cousin had it bad for Cricket, which amused me to no end. My boss and silent partner in Deconstructed had been true to her word—no hanky-panky until she was officially divorced—but I knew she nurtured a small flame for my big hunky cousin. They met here at the Bullpen once a week with our Blue Moon Sting posse, as Cricket still called us. And I think they texted some. But I respected Cricket. She had a daughter and a reputation to uphold.