Free Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) by Juli Alexander Page A

gravity of my error and of my inadequate adaptation to my new form.”
    I interpreted that as “Life’s a bitch and shopping sucks.” An idea hit me like a truckload of frogs. Mom could help. “Hang on a second,” I said. Then I slipped off the stool and ran for the dining room.
    Mom looked up from her work as I skidded to a stop. “What’s the crisis?”
    “No crisis,” I said in a rush. “It’s just that Dr. Finnegan needs to go shopping for a winter wardrobe this afternoon, and he doesn’t seem real confident about it.”
    My mother leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’m in.”
    “He didn’t exactly ask for help, so he might take some convincing.”
    Pushing back from the table, she stood. “I got this,” she said.
    Mom led the way to the kitchen. “Zoe tells me you’ve got some shopping to do,” Mom said to Finn.
    “I do indeed,” he said as he finished zipping his backpack.
    “I can help if you’d like,” she said. “It’s actually one of my favorite hobbies, and you have done so much for us by helping Zoe.”
    “On a professional level, I certainly feel that I should refuse your offer. However, facing the reality of a shopping spree on my own, I find myself…” He stopped and shook his head. “Yes, please.”
     
    When my mother got home five hours later, she was squarely in the afterglow of a shopping binge. I, on the other hand, was fighting the frustration of a full afternoon of failure. Zero progress. I’d added varying amounts of the chalkboard chalk and tried different combinations of eggs to no avail. I’d gotten annoyed with my hair falling in my face and sweaty from the humidity of constantly boiling pots as I tried to harden the chalk to the right consistency. I’d finally put my hair up in a ponytail holder as high on my head as I could get it, and I knew from experience that my hair had taken on a grotesque appearance which could land me the lead role in any B-grade horror movie. Finally I’d cleaned up and taken a notebook to the couch to brainstorm. The brain activity was minimal.
    “Ewww,” she said before she could stop herself. “I see that you had a rough day.”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Right.” Her eyes kept shifting from my face to my hair. “Then we won’t.”
    “Did you find Dr. Finnegan some clothes?”
    “We had the best time. He listened to my advice. It was so refreshing to take a man and dress him from top to bottom. Your father never let me shop for him, and we both know he had the worst taste in clothes. Not that shopping with Finn was anything like shopping for a real adult. Finn is an adult, of course, but dressing him is more like dressing a young person.” She sat down on the couch next to me and propped her designer shoe-clad feet on the coffee table. “Honestly, it was like dressing a male model. Everything fit him to perfection. If you could have seen him in that bomber jacket and those Levi’s.” Then she sighed, like she was sighing about a hot guy.
    “Mom! Seriously? Are you drooling over Dr. Finnegan?” My gag reflex was on red alert.
    Mom reached out to grab my arm. “Oh, no! Zoe, no! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It was just an admiration of true beauty. That’s all. Like when a room comes together perfectly. Or like you in your dress from Homecoming. Perfection. I’m speaking with an artist’s eye, not with a creepy perv eye. I promise.”
    Mom’s horror almost had me convinced. Even I had noticed that Finn had a nice form in a totally objective kind of way.
    “The problem was that while the clothes fit fine, Finn’s personality doesn’t work with many of the styles we tried. The boy, er, man is so tense and uptight. The dressier and fussier the clothes were, the more he liked them. He’s lucky you intervened and got my help.”
    “Good. I’m glad you helped.”
    Mom’s expression turned serious. “Zoe, I feel sorry for Finn. He doesn’t know anybody here except us.