“She won’t mind.”
Nikki nodded just as a rush of tiny footsteps on the stairs heralded Chloe’s arrival. “Daddy!” she screamed, her lips, a vibrant red color, split into a wide, delighted smile. Iridescent green eye-shadow covered her eyelids, and black mascara was thick over her usually pale lashes.
Pierce scooped her off her feet and, as he had done earlier in the day, twirled her in the kitchen, while Mikado padded over for some attention. “What happened to you?” he asked his daughter, and she giggled.
“Phee made me pretty!”
“You’re always pretty,” he told her as he placed her on her feet. “You don’t really need any makeup.” He gave Mikado a few pats on the head, and the dog’s tail wagged slowly.
“Why don’t you let Phee know that dinner’s ready,” Nikki suggested to her daughter. “Wash your hands.”
Pierce added, “And maybe your face,” but Nikki shook her head.
“Let it be.”
“She looks like she’s auditioning forRu Paul’s Drag Race.”
“At two?”
Lily chimed in, “Almost three, and you know they start early these days.”
Nikki found the nearly empty bottle of wine and held it up in offering, but Pierce shook his head and opted for a beer.
“I’ll finish it.” Lily swept the bottle from Nikki’s hand just as she heard the pounding of little footsteps, the girls returning, with Chloe leading the way.
“I see you’ve been practicing your art,” Lily said to her daughter as Phee scraped back her chair and Nikki placed Chloe in her booster chair.
When Phee didn’t respond, Lily touched her daughter on the arm, then motioned to her ears. “Not at the table.”
Reluctantly, the girl took out her AirPods.
“Not at table!” Chloe repeated, shaking her head. “No, no, no!”
“She’s such a little ‘ruleser,’” Phee said, sending Chloe a just-stop-it glare.
“And after you put all that effort into making her look special,” Lily chided.
Pierce settled into his chair and said, “I hate to ask what a ruleser is.”
Nikki warned, “Don’t.”
Too late.
Phee, still sending Chloe dark looks, explained. “It’s a little twit who loves to tell someone else what the rules are!”
“Okay, okay.” Lily waved her wineglass.
“Let’s eat,” Pierce said, deliberately changing the subject. He passed the casserole to his niece and said to Nikki, “This looks great.”
“Restaurant quality.” Lily smiled before burying her nose in her glass.
Nikki ignored her sister, her mind moving past the meal to hover on questions about Billy Huber’s murder. What had the police discovered? Were there any serious suspects? Who would gain from Billy’s death? What about witnesses? With an effort, she took the first bite.
Restaurant quality?
Hardly.
Epicurean?