Sleeping with Anemone Read Free

students didn’t have a lot of buying power. I needed to reach serious shoppers.
    “And second, don’t let your grandparents hear you call them oldies.” I glanced around to be sure my parents weren’t heading toward us at that very moment.
    “Don’t worry. Grandma and Grandpa know they’re cool. But you’re gonna have to do better than that”—she pointed to my pathetically undersigned petition—“if you want to stop that farm factory from opening.”
    “I know that, thank you very much.”
    “You need more media attention, like a video on You-Tube . I can help you make one.”
    Tara was the only grandchild in our family, born when I was fourteen years old, which sometimes made her feel more like a kid sister than a niece. She had shown up at the center that morning allegedly to keep me company. While I appreciated her camaraderie, I was fully aware that Tara never volunteered for anything unless there was something in it for her. I had yet to learn what that something was.
    Looking bored, Tara rocked her chair back on two legs. “So, when are you and Uncle Marco going to set a wedding date?”
    Aha! There was her hidden agenda. “Grandma sent you here to bug me about that, didn’t she?”
    Tara looked offended. “Nuh-uh! It was totally my idea to help you.”
    Right. “Okay, fine. I’m going to say this once, so listen close. Marco and I are still in the discussion stage. And by the way, he’s not your uncle. Have some jelly beans.” I pushed the bowl toward her.
    “Not now, thanks. And by the way, you’re lucky you didn’t have to try Grandma’s first batch. I couldn’t swallow for two days. If you ask me, she should stick to her clay sculptures, and you and Hot Pockets Salvare should set a date.”
    “How about just Mr. Salvare?”
    Tara made a face. “He’s way too cool for that. Hmm. Let’s see. What should I call my aunt’s boyfriend-and-possible-future-husband? Oh, I know. How about uncle ?”
    “How about no?”
    Her chair came down on all four legs as she reached for the petition and added her name in balloon letters. “So, when is Mr. Not-My-Uncle Salvare going to show up?”
    “You’re just too cute for words, you know that? He said he’d come by in the afternoon. He’s working on a private investigation this morning.”
    “My friends are jealous because you’re dating him. How many boyfriends go from Army Ranger Special Ops to owner of a bar named Down the Hatch, plus being a private eye?”
    “Your friends aren’t jealous because I own Bloomers?”
    “They’d be totally jealous if you owned Bloomers and were married to Mr. Army-Ranger-Bar-Owner-Private-Eye Salvare. How about Valentine’s Day? It’s the perfect day to get married and it’s the day before my birthday. So, a year from next week on the fourteenth?”
    “Tara, would you stop? We’re already getting enough pressure from our families without you adding to it.”
    She grinned. “You are?”
    “Your mother and your aunt Portia send me flyers from every bridal shop in the greater Chicago area, Grandma has caterers calling me once a week, and Marco’s mom keeps tearing pages out of bridal magazines and mailing them to me. So trust me, when we make a decision, I’ll let everyone know.”
    “Whatev.” She rocked back on her chair. “So, going back to my birthday . . .”
    Now we were getting to the real agenda.
    “Want to know what I want for a present?”
    “I’m dying to find out.”
    “You know the Barrow Boys are coming here to perform, right?”
    “Who are the Barrow Boys?”
    “OMG, Aunt Abby, I can’t believe you haven’t heard of the BBs. They’re just the hottest new boy band to come across the ocean in, like, decades. My friend Sonya Hucks texted me last night that tickets are available right now because they added a show on Valentine’s Day.”
    “So you want a ticket to the concert for your birthday?”
    “Actually,” she said, “I want you and Dreamy Eyes Salvare to take me to