Free Stand-In Wife by Karina Bliss Page A

daughter’s.
    “I get that,” Ross said patiently, “but Susan’s come over to commiserate. She’s probably bought a casserole. Dumping her now would be plain mean. I’ll send her away.”
    As Charlie hesitated, they heard the sound of the front door being opened. He frowned, so did Ross. They both really hated it when people came in uninvited.
    “Hello,” Susan called. “Anyone home?”
    Charlie eyeballed him, and with a shrug Ross stepped aside and surrendered to the inevitable. “In here.”
     
    H OLDING H ARRY LIKE a human shield, Viv opened the front door at eight forty-five the next morning and yelled into the house, “Come on, Tilly, we’re running late!”
    “Dog.” Chuckling, Harry pointed to Salsa who, torn between conflicting impulses, wagged his tail and growled.
    “You were happy to accept fillet steak from me this morning,” Viv snapped. She’d left more meat strewn across the countertop defrosting and there was a packet of emergency sausages in her handbag for when she returned. “What is it, anyway? My perfume? Most dogs love me…. Tilly! ” At least she had the mother holler down pat.
    Her niece meandered into the hall, chewing the lastmorsel of toast Viv had given her half an hour ago. “I’ll just brush my teeth.”
    “No time.” How did Merry cope with such a dawdler? “I have to drop you guys at school and day care and make it back for your uncle Ross, remember?”
    Tilly had decided to go to school when she’d heard Uncle Ross was coming. “He’s bossy,” she explained when Viv asked why. “He keeps telling me to think about other people.” As she spoke she’d swiped her baby brother’s toast and replaced it with a piece she’d already licked the butter off. “It’s bad for him,” she’d said blithely when Viv protested. “Butter causes heart attacks.”
    “What about your heart?” Viv had started to wonder if her formidable niece had one. She seemed to have shaken off her grief over Linda and pretty much ignored Harry. Possibly because he was too young to take orders. Viv, on the other hand, had been barked at incessantly. By dog and child.
    Strapping Harry into Mere’s seven-seater people mover, Viv gave him a toy, returned to the house for his baby bag and Tilly’s school backpack then heckled her niece out of the bathroom and into the front passenger seat. Tilly had refused to get in the back. “I can’t sit next to Harry, he stinks.”
    “A little present for Daddy’s day-care girlfriend,” Viv had muttered.
    As Viv shut the passenger door she noticed the Subaru’s insignia—Liberty. Ha!
    Merry’s cell rang and Viv turned away from the car in case Tilly could lip-read. She’d been eyeing Viv suspiciously ever since she’d offered to style her for school. She checked caller ID. Merry. Again.
    “Hey—” she injected cheerfulness into her voice “—how are you feeling this morning?”
    “As if I’ve got a plate screwed to my leg,” said Merry tightly. “But the specialist is coming at ten, so hopefully he’ll up the pain meds. Someone called Jean Paul left three messages on your cell overnight.”
    “Oh, no, I forgot to return his call,” Viv said. Too many other things to think about.
    “Should I text him your new phone numbers?”
    “Yes…no…too dangerous. I’ll phone him when I’m alone.”
    “His tone suggested he wasn’t taking the breakup well,” Merry commented.
    “I told him I don’t get serious,” Viv said indignantly. “For Pete’s sake, affair is even a French word. It’s not like it got lost in translation. I haven’t got time for dramatics.” Merry snorted. “Except this one,” she amended. “Anyway, the only callers who get your number are the big Broadway producer, Cal Muldoon, or his assistant, Sue Bradbury. In fact, it’s very important that—”
    “I’ve got it—Muldoon or Bradbury. Listen, I’ve emailed more tips and lists through to my PC. Make sure you don’t leave any printouts lying