That Thing You Do (Whispering Bay Romance 1)

“She’s going to drive out with us to the senior center to help move your car. Since you can’t drive it yourself.”

That last part hadn’t been said with any rancor, but Allie still cringed at the reminder that her license was suspended. She mentally put that on her list of things to care of today. Right after she emailed Emma to let her know the ghost story probably wasn’t going to pan out.

Allie searched her mind for some way around this demolition thing, but she came up blank. Maybe the story could still be salvaged, but she’d have to be satisfied with interviews and second hand accounts (if she could find anyone who’d actually seen this ghost, of course). Because there was no way she was going to debase herself and ask Tom Donalan for yet a third time to help her out. Nope. Not happening. She’d rather swallow nails.

She quickly got dressed and out to the garage to find Mimi and the kids waiting for her. How had she overslept this morning of all important mornings? She couldn’t believe how much Mimi had accomplished, and it was only seven-thirty. The army had nothing over motherhood.

Claire was now wearing a pair of extremely tight jeans but it was still better than the little skirt. Thank God Cameron was still the same pudgy cutie pie with the freckles and wire rimmed glasses he was a few months ago. He was wearing braces now, but it was the only thing different about him.

Allie ruffled the top of his curly head.

“Why are you here?” he asked her.

Claire punched her brother in the shoulder. “That’s so rude, you little dweeb. Aunt Allie doesn’t need a reason to come visit.”

“Did you see that? Mom! She hit me.”

“Oh my God. I barely touched you!”

Mimi seemed completely unfazed by their screeching. “Do you want to drive to school or not?” she asked Claire.

Claire instantly appeared contrite. “Yes, please.”

Mimi handed her the keys. “Then behave.”

Allie climbed into the minivan’s back seat. “Claire’s driving?”

“I just got my license last week,” Claire said proudly.

Allie mentally winced at the irony that was her life. Her niece, who just yesterday (it seemed) was wearing pigtails and watching Sesame Street could legally drive and had better boobs than her.

Coffee. She needed more coffee.

Mimi strapped herself in the front passenger seat and watched Claire with an eagle eye as she went through the ritual of readjusting the car’s mirrors.

Cameron turned to face Allie. “Is Dad gonna throw you in jail?”

Mimi smiled apologetically. “He wanted to know why your car wasn’t here so I, um, explained your situation.”

Allie grinned at her nephew. “Yeah, I’m in trouble, big guy. Think I can throw myself on my brother’s mercy?”

Cameron thought this over a second. “Did you ever

call him a dweeb when you were growing up?”

Claire eyed Cameron through the rearview mirror. “Shut up or I’ll make you sit in front with me.”

Cameron’s face visibly paled.

“That’s enough,” Mimi warned.

Claire backed out of the driveway and they took off down the road. Allie gripped the door knob to keep from getting jostled in her seat. She now understood Cameron’s reaction to Claire’s threat. But everyone had been a novice driver at one point, right? Claire just needed more practice.

Cameron yakked all the way to his middle school, which was only a five minute drive. Allie leaned over and forced him to kiss her goodbye on the cheek, but she didn’t have to push too hard. Apparently, eleven was still a sweet age for pre-adolescent boys. She caught a whiff of freshly brushed teeth, Clearasil and…Old Spice cologne. Claire was right. Cameron had a girlfriend. Scratch the pre-adolescent part. Why was everyone in such a hurry to grow up?

Claire drove on to the high school and parked (rather badly) into a space in the second row of the student section. Allie hadn’t been back to Whispering Bay High in ages. There were kids everywhere in the parking lot, rushing to get to class before the first bell. The hair was different and the clothes were definitely different (had Allie ever dressed this hoochie in high school?), but the rest was the same. Bright young faces and pimply chins and lots of laughter and rough-housing.

A vision of Tom and her eating lunch while sitting on the hood of his red Crown Victoria popped into her head. It was the way they’d spent almost every lunch period their senior year.