The Invasive Species by Frankie Bow

The Invasive Species by Frankie Bow

Author:Frankie Bow [Bow, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781943476206
Goodreads: 30087878
Publisher: Hawaiian Heritage Press
Published: 2016-01-01T06:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-Six

“It seems like we just had one of these university things last week.” I was trying on various outfits in Donnie’s big master bedroom in front of the mirrored closets.

“We did,” Donnie said. “The Halloween party.”

“Was it just last week? I guess I repressed the memory. Well, I’m not going to wear a cockroach costume this time. My fashion philosophy for tonight will be: try not to frighten small children or big donors.”

Donnie sat on the edge of the bed and watched me twist my hair into different configurations. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and he sucked in his breath as if preparing to say something.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry, Molly. I can’t go with you tonight.”

“The donor dinner? You told me you were coming. What do you mean you can’t go?”

“I have a deadline coming up. I need to work on it tonight.”

“I have to go by myself? Donnie, I RSVP’d for both of us. You said you’d be able to go. Victor Santiago’s going to have me in thumbscrews when he sees an empty chair at the donor dinner.”

“Already taken care of. Davison’s going with you. No, it’s okay. He wants to go. I’m not forcing him.”

“Davison? Seriously? Donnie, this is the donor dinner. The whole point is to make a favorable impr—look. These things aren’t fun. You have to be on your best behavior the whole time. You know how to handle yourself, but are you sure Davison wants to be under this kind of pressure? I mean, he came back home to relax, not to work, right?”

“Molly, he’ll be fine, and it’s good practice for him. He needs to learn how to network. You have to admit, he’s been well behaved this trip. Hasn’t he?”

“Depends what you mean by well behaved. Ever since he stepped off the plane with his buckle hat and his blunderbuss, he’s been lobbying to have me burned at the stake.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s all Mister Scoldy-Preachy now. He keeps telling me I need to cut down on my drinking.”

“It’s because he cares about you. He wants you to be healthy. At least he didn’t warn you about getting middle-aged dad gut.”

“And he’s acting all judgmental about me living in my own house. Did you tell him I was going back up there tonight? Because he just brought it up. Again.”

“Well, he wants his family to be together. I don’t like it that we’re living apart. Do you?”

“Of course I’d prefer it if you and I lived together, Donnie. We just need to work out the details.”

I loved my husband, but I also loved having my own place. Sure, Donnie’s house was gorgeous with its gleaming wood floors and its perfectly placed quarter-sawn oak side tables and its professional kitchen. And its museum-quality pieces like that celadon vase I’d been afraid to go near ever since I found out it was worth more than a year’s worth of student loan payments. But I liked coming home to someplace of my



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