Free Out of Time (Nine Minutes #2) by Beth Flynn Page A

his hair, letting out a long sigh.
    “Yeah,” he said finally, “get the job for the summer. Get the bras. I trust you to handle it and let me know if I’m needed.”
    He started to stand up to leave when she stopped him, a hand up.
    “And there’s another thing.”
    He sighed again and sat back down. “What? What else is there, Mavis?”
    She nodded at Grunt. “I think he might be a little young to be coming here. He already informed me that the girls had ‘tits,’ not ‘breasts.’ You think you could’ve at least started him out with something a little milder?”
    Grizz looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about.
    “Maybe you could have told him they were boobies, or ninnies or something. You had to tell him they were tits ?”
    “They are tits, and boobies is something a ten-year old would say.”
    “He is a ten-year old!”
    “Fine, okay,” He swallowed back a grin and stood up. “Grunt, time to go. Pack it up.”
    Grunt stood up and walked over to him and Mavis. He reached behind his back and whipped out his notebook. He took the pen from behind his ear and started writing.
    “What are you writing down now?” Grizz asked.
    “I’m taking notes to research something later.”
    “What do you need to research?”
    “I need to learn why Gwinny’s boobies need training.”
     

 
    Chapter Eleven
    2000
     
     
    Tommy hadn’t realized how quiet the house was until he heard the automatic icemaker on the refrigerator dump a load of ice into the bin. He inhaled deeply and could smell apple and cinnamon spice, but he didn’t know where it was coming from. It was one of those mystery scents Ginny had placed somewhere in their home.
    He knew she’d meant it when she said she wanted him out of the house.
    He also knew he wouldn’t be leaving.
    He stared at the heavy box on his desk and sighed. Memories continued to swirl, pressing down on him like a weight. It all suddenly felt like too much.
    The doorbell rang. He left the box on his desk and wandered to the front door. It wouldn’t be Ginny, not this soon. He opened the door to find a woman there, clutching some kind of notebook to her chest. Oh brother, not another reporter . He stiffened as the last few months with Leslie flashed through his mind. Even though she didn’t spend much time interviewing him—she mainly spoke with Ginny—Tommy decided early on that he didn’t care for reporters or journalists. The experience with Leslie had only cemented that. He would be nice to this woman, but firm. No interview.
    “I’m looking for Tommy or Ginny Dillon. I have something—”
    “Look, you seem like a nice lady. But we’re not doing interviews. I don’t want to be mean or rude to you, but please leave us alone.” He started to close the door but she appeared startled, holding up a hand.
    “I’m not a reporter! Please—I have something to give you.”
    He turned back and sized her up. She seemed familiar, but he didn’t know why. He was certain he’d never met her. She was a nice-looking woman—average height and just a little on the heavy side, with brown hair with blonde highlights, intelligent brown eyes, and a warm smile. He couldn’t guess her age. Before he could continue with his mental assessment, she spoke.
    “I’m Louise.” She cleared her throat. “Louise Bailey.”
    Tommy didn’t say anything. He shook his head.
    “I’m Rhonda Bailey’s daughter.”
    The name was familiar, but Tommy still couldn’t make the connection.
    She looked at him and smiled kindly. “You knew her as Chicky.”
    Chicky. Tommy’s mouth went slack. That was a name he hadn’t heard or thought about in years.
    “You’re Chicky’s daughter?” He found himself smiling now, picturing the no-nonsense voluptuous blonde with the cheerful eyes. Truthfully, it had been so long he wasn’t sure when he’d last laid eyes on the woman. “Come in. Tell me how she is. We haven’t heard anything about her in years. Last we did