Uh-oh. Sophie and her sisters shared amused glances. Obviously husband and wife were arguing again, which, considering the parties involved were Yank and Lola, wasn’t a great surprise, nor was it a cause for worry. It was status quo.
“You’re scribblin’ circles, honey,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lola glanced up from her paper. “I wouldn’t have thought you could see the difference, dear.”
“Oh Lord. Are we going to witness a family squabble?” Spencer asked.
Sophie chuckled. “As if you didn’t know what it was like to be a part of this clan.”
“What in the world is going on now?” Annabelle asked.
Lola placed her pen down on her pad. “I came home early yesterday and found your uncle making himself a tuna-fish sandwich.”
Everyone waited for the punch line.
“The tuna was in a Tupperware container in the fridge. I don’t need my full peepers to do that.” Yank defended himself, but the color high on his cheekbones said there was more.
“You were cutting a tomato with a serrated knife,” Lola said, her voice rising.
Yank exhaled a frustrated groan. “I’m not a child who needs his food cut up for him.”
“And I don’t intend to be married to a nine-fingered mutant pain in the ass. You push things too far, Yank Morgan. I know you. You’d cut off one finger at a time if it meant keeping your independence.” Lola gripped her pen tighter in her hand.
“I’m fine. It was just a little nick.” He held up the injured digit. His middle finger stuck straight up in the air, flipping the bird to everyone at the table.
Everyone, with the exception of Lola, snickered at the sight. The sad truth was that Lola had every right to be concerned, but as usual, Uncle Yank managed to turn the situation into a circus.
“I need the afternoon off,” Lola announced.
Spencer cleared his throat. “I don’t see a problem.”
“What for?” Yank demanded to know.
She met his gaze, a smug smile on her lips.
Sophie braced herself for whatever the other woman had in mind.
“I plan to go on over to Toys ’R’ Us. I’m going to purchase those babyproof locks so I can secure the drawers and cabinets,” she said to her husband.
“Oh no,” Micki muttered.
“Here we go,” Sophie agreed.
Uncle Yank rose from his chair. “The hell you will. You can’t lock me out of my own kitchen.”
Lola gathered her papers and stood, too. “Just watch me, you old coot. Someone has to protect you from yourself.” She straightened her shoulders and strode out of the room.
Yank followed right after her, arguing all the way.
The remaining partners glanced around the room.
Sophie grabbed the forgotten gavel and smacked it against the table. “I move we continue without them.”
“I second,” Annabelle said.
“Third.” Spencer nodded.
Sophie hit the table once more. “Motion passed.” She grinned. She could get used to this little bit of power, she thought, turning the gavel around in her hand.