Plain Perfect & Quaker Summer 2 in 1 by Beth Wiseman & Lisa Samson

Author:Beth Wiseman & Lisa Samson [Beth Wiseman & Lisa Samson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson Inc.
Published: 2010-09-09T14:00:00+00:00

* * *

I pull back up to the house around two thirty with a car full of kids intensely aware of the opposite sex, and ten minutes later their shouts ricochet off the waters of the pool and the slate patio. Two of the moms with lifeguard training stand on deck, chatting and getting browner by the minute. They look good in their suits. Not great. But darn good. Normally their volunteerism extends only to the sports program.

The girls have congregated around the edge of the pool, their skinny legs swallowed just below the knee by the water, chatting and gossiping while the majority of the boys, arms and legs loosely hinged, splash and dunk each other, hollering in their mid-change voices, thrashing about like clownish wildlife.

Will wants to join in, but he can’t. He volunteered to man the grill, and Carmen is standing there looking over his shoulder. It’s one thing to be the nerd; it’s another to know you are the nerd. My heart breaks that he is the gangly, artistic oddball of the group whose voice changed sooner than the others. Yes, yes, I know he will do wonderful things someday, but that he’s not welcome in this part of his world, a part I’m paying $20K a year for, mind you, makes me just plain angry.

And there’s Ronald P. Legermin, the ringleader, whom I could absolutely strangle.

“I hate that child.”

Laney whips her head around. “What?”

“Ronnie.”

“So does Nicola. She can’t stand him.”

Whoa. I can’t believe she didn’t call me down for that one.

Carmen, dressed in the tropical theme of the party, pats Will on the back, then breezes in from the deck. Her skin glows like golden oak. “Burgers and dogs are almost done. Let’s get the food out, ladies!” She clicks on her lime green slides over to my fridge, her derriere shaking like a Latin dancer’s, and she yanks open the door. As she slides out Laney’s veggie tray, a frown ages her brow. “Okay, then. Well. Heather, did you slice the turkey yet?”

“Yep. It’s on a tray with the deli meats.”

“And did you arrange it nicely? Please say yes.” Laney reddens. Mercy, Laney, you’re a PhD, for gosh sakes!

“Whether or not it’s up to your standards, Carmen, I can’t say.” I point to the kitchen table where it’s displayed. “Is that all right?”

She gazes over. “Oh yes. Relief. The cake is gorgeous too. You’re almost professional at it, Heather.”

Almost.

She clicks on over to the ice chests and peers in, nods—in satisfaction, I hope—then clicks over to the bathroom. She peeks her head back around the doorjamb. “Do you have any cleaning wipes?”

Laney and I exchange looks.

“I cleaned the bathroom this morning, Carmen.”

“Really?”

“Are you that rude?” My hand flies to my mouth. Mercy!

Laney coughs into her hand.

Carmen reels backward. “Well, no, but I . . . well, I just thought I’d help out.”

I cross my arms. Might as well keep going with it. I am losing it a bit after all, right? “Because I’m getting a little sick of your snide way of making the rest of us feel so unworthy.

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