The Bake-Off by Beth Kendrick

Author:Beth Kendrick
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2011-04-11T05:00:00+00:00

“Linnie, darling!” Grammy picked up the phone on the very first ring. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve been dying to know how everything’s going in New York.”

“Well. It’s been an interesting couple of days.” Linnie cupped her hand over the phone’s receiver to muffle the ambient jailhouse noise.

“I can’t wait to hear what’s going on with you girls. Did you meet Ty and Tai yet?”

“We did. They’re thuggish and underhanded, but I can handle them.”

“I have every confidence, my dear. And how are you and your sister getting along?”

Linnie mumbled a few platitudes about sisters being different flowers from the same garden.

“You’ll have to speak up; I can barely hear a word. My, it sounds like a lively group of contestants this year. Are you at one of the cocktail receptions?”

“Not quite.” Linnie screwed up her courage. “That’s what I’m calling about—is there any way you could wire me a thousand dollars? Like, immediately?”

“You need money? Again? What’s going on?”

Linnie gnawed the inside of her cheek. Amy definitely should have made this call. She could handle people so much better. “Don’t worry, Grammy; it’s no big deal; we just—”

“Don’t try to fob me off with that nonsense.” Grammy’s voice went steely and stern. “Last month you called me and asked for forty thousand dollars, and now you need more? What on earth am I supposed to think?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I admit it does sound shady. But I swear to you—”

“Cut the bullshit, Vasylina, and answer me right now.”

Linnie sucked in a breath. She’d never, ever heard Grammy Syl swear.

“Are you buying drugs?” her grandmother demanded.

“What? No! How could you even think that about me?”

“Look at the evidence: You’re so thin and pasty; you don’t return my calls; you always seem so jittery.”

Linnie went to massage her temple, then stopped herself as she considered the exotic variety of surfaces and substances she’d handled in the last few hours. “I’m antisocial; I’m not a crackhead.”

“I was thinking heroin, actually.”

“Grammy, be serious. I don’t even drink alcohol, let alone shoot heroin.”

“Well, something’s going on,” Grammy said. “Out with it. Have you developed a gambling addiction? Do you have a mob enforcer threatening to cut off your fingers?”

Linnie slumped back against the peeling plaster wall. “Amy and I need to post bail.”

Grammy gasped. “You’re in prison?”

“No, no, no. Prison is for convicted criminals. We’re just spending a few hours in the holding tank due to an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Oh Lord.” Grammy sounded defeated. “What did Amy do this time?”

“Nothing.” Linnie closed her eyes. “It was me.” She delivered a bullet-point summary of the evening’s adventures, concluding with, “And you know how I feel about phonetic spelling.”

Grammy digested this information for a few seconds in silence, then said, “Well, you had to act out sometime, I suppose. You did miss most of your adolescence. But this all sounds very worrisome. Do you need me to come to Manhattan? I can be there by morning.”

“You can?” Linnie frowned. “Aren’t you in Alaska right now?”

Grammy paused again.

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