Free A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 by Mary Campisi Page B

her a quick dip of his head, not a full-blown agreement but close enough. No way would Mama let Daddy back in the building so he could end up with heart problems again, maybe an ulcer and high blood pressure to boot. Mama said Daddy was done building his empire and needed to pass it off before it buried him. Maybe they’d decided this consultant was the last step toward turning the business over to Bree. She could live with that, indeed she could. “Okay then. I’ll be the one working with him and getting him what he needs.” There were a few areas she wanted to check out before she opened the doors and the books to some stranger, consultant or not. She hoped he wasn’t one of those educated know-it-alls from the city who’d never been in a family diner or visited a bed-and-breakfast. Hah. Would he stay at the Heart Sent? Would he try to mingle with the town? Would he meet Pop Benito? Oh, but she had her share of questions, and she’d get her answers, too…every last one of them. “So, when is this consultant coming?”
    Her father worked up a smile that looked pure painful and said, “Tomorrow morning.” Before she could comment, he reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a folded envelope, and handed it to her. “From your mother and me. It’s a gift certificate to Kit’s Primp and Polish. We thought it might do you good to pamper yourself a bit.” He eyed her hair. “Why don’t you take off the rest of the day, go see if you can’t get your nails done or whatever you women do in those places.”
    Bree tapped the gift certificate against her palm. They were trying to keep her quiet so she didn’t throw a hissy fit. As if she would. This was about business and in what world had her Mama and Daddy treated her like the person who ran the company? They didn’t, which told her they didn’t think she ran it, but she would. By the time the consultant finished his work at MacGregor Cabinets, there would be no doubt who ran the company. Bree Lynn Kinkaid, that’s who. She threw her daddy a bright smile, opened the side drawer of her desk, and pulled out her purse. “I think I will take off the rest of the day and get a little pampering.” She rounded the desk, pecked her father on the cheek. “Thank you, Daddy. Tell Mama I’ll be home by dinnertime.”
    Bree kept the calmness in her voice until she was inside the SUV with Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” blaring. Then she let out a yell that matched the radio. A consultant? A gift certificate to the salon? Could they say loser any louder? Her parents thought she was incompetent, and not only that, they thought she was unkempt. What had Daddy said about her hair and a rat’s nest? She eased out of the parking lot, stroked a section of hair, located a snarl partway down. Okay, maybe she hadn’t done a good brushing job, but a rat’s nest ? Humph. She knew how to look and dress attractive. Hadn’t she done that in Chicago? Oh, yes, and look where that had ended up? In bed, having sex she didn’t remember with a stranger named Adam—a gorgeous, polite, sophisticated stranger who’d left a note in the bathroom saying he’d be back to “talk.” That was an absolute “no thank you” because what did a person say when she’d had sex she couldn’t remember with a man she didn’t know? Would she admit such a thing? Not good for the man’s ego, that was for certain. She blew out a sigh, sang a few notes with Bon Jovi, and pulled into the salon. Mama and Daddy thought her life was in the toilet and she looked a mess? Well, she’d show them that Bree Kinkaid was not a lost cause, and she’d start with a little primping.
    Kit’s Primp and Polish could not be called trendy or cutting edge. They still did wash and sets, perms, and old-lady-blue-white dye jobs, but they’d hired three new stylists these past several months, one with red hair and an entire arm of tattoos, another with piercings and a tube’s-worth of eyeliner on her lids, and a third who