Knickers in a Twist

by Kim Hunt Harris

  “Mrs. Starr is back?” I turned to the nurse and pointed to the room where the woman we'd seen at the Baucum Memorial had just been wheeled in.

  The nurse nodded. “Yeah, she just got moved back in yesterday. And you know, I think she's better already. She's comfortable here.”

  “But...” I leaned close, my surprise outweighing my fear of her. “I heard that she couldn't afford to stay here any longer. I mean, that's gossip, but...”

  “She couldn't.” The nurse flattened her lips. “What with the one son dead, the other one in jail, and all the business assets tied up in litigation, she's flat broke, I think. But then all of a sudden, she got a benefactor. Which is a good thing, because she needs to be here.”

  “Salem, would you quit gossiping and come on?” Viv stood holding the door for me.

  In the elevator, I let this sink in. I opened my mouth to say something to Viv, but stopped. She stared straight ahead, ignoring me as hard as she could.

  I smiled. I shifted toward her and lifted my arm.

  “If you try to hug me again, I will slap you.”

  I stopped, put my arm down, and grinned.

  That night, Tony and I went shopping for clothes to wear to my mother's wedding. I have to admit, it was fun going into a nice department store and picking out something new, instead of Walmart or the resale store. I found a chocolate brown sweater dress that would look nice with my riding boots, and Tony got a new shirt and tie of almost the same color. We would look perfect for a “rustic” backyard wedding.

  The next day, I stood in front of the mirror, turning to look at the back view, then the side view. I placed my hands on my stomach. It was hard to say if it would ever be flat again, now. I tried not to worry about it, though.

  Tony came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “You are beautiful,” he said.

  I reached back to put my hand on his head. “I love you.”

  He leaned over, opened a drawer on the dresser, and pulled out a wrapped gift box.

  “I have something for you.”

  “It's a little early for presents, isn't it?” I couldn't help but smile, though. And take it.

  “There will be more for Christmas, don't worry.”

  I untied the ribbon and slipped it off. My heart thudded when I realized this could be a key. To his house. And he was asking me to move in permanently. It only made sense, but...my heart still thudded painfully at the thought.

  But it wasn't a key. It was a small stack of business cards.

  Discreet Investigations, it read. Salem Solis and Vivian Kennedy. Our phone numbers. All in tasteful black type on a plain white card.

  “Tony?” I looked at him.

  “Look.” He framed my face with his hands. “I can't ask you not to do this. You love doing this. I heard you the other night, talking to Viv. And maybe you're right—this could be God's plan for you. Who am I to get in the way of that?”

  I threw my arms around him and held him so tight. “Do you mean it?”

  “I must. I had cards made.”

  “Oh my gosh, these are so much better than Viv’s cards.”

  “Tell me about it. Those things were horrifying.”

  I studied them through tears. “But—and I'm just checking here—is this your way of trying to get rid of me? Give me free rein to go chase after bad guys in the hopes that one of them will actually shoot me?”

  He laughed. “Not a chance.” He lifted the stack of cards and I saw something beneath it. A folded piece of paper. I unfolded it.

  “An application for a concealed handgun license?” I looked at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly. Salem, if you're going to be out there dealing with people who kill people, you have to protect yourself.”

  “But...I don't want a gun.”

  He cocked his head and gave me an unyielding look.

  “Viv has a gun.”

  “Viv is also bad with that gun.”

  “That's true, but...” I remembered the feel of the gun going off in my hand and shuddered.

  “There's also this.” He pulled another piece of paper out of the box.

  “A self-defense course. Well, okay!” I said. I could get on board with this.

  He kissed the top of my head. “Good. If you're going to be fighting bad guys, you might as well be prepared. Okay, one more thing.” He pulled back and drew something from his pocket. It was a silver bracelet with oval discs linked together. He held it out to me.

  “What is this?” I peered closely at the word inscribed on one of the discs. “A...minta? Aminta? What's that?”

  “I think that's how it's pronounced, yes.” He fastened the bracelet around my wrist. “You wanted a new name, so I looked up the Hebrew word for truth – because when I think of you, that’s always the first word that comes to mind. Truth. Aminta. It also means defender.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Truth defender. Sounds like you all over.”

  “Aminta,” I whispered, studying the bracelet through fresh tears. “Truth.”

  Epilogue

  Perhaps it was the combination of narrowly escaping death and being in the company of my own amazing husband, but I went to Mom’s wedding feeling magnanimous toward everyone.

  When Mom introduced me simply as “Salem” instead of “my daughter, Salem,” I smiled, shook hands, made small talk – all the things expected of me.

  When I spotted Susan across the expanse of Neely Bates’ charmingly rustic back yard, I slid my arm through Tony’s and turned the other cheek. At least she met me halfway by avoiding me, too.

  When someone bumped into one of the tables and spilled three round trays of champagne flutes onto the ground, I tamped down the flicker of schadenfreude that reared its ugly head and offered Mom consolation that was almost one hundred percent authentic. I did, in fact, feel genuine compassion for her, but I kind of hated that champagne for being there and looking so pretty, so I was glad to see it go.

  A large part of why I felt so good, though, was the discussion Tony and I had before we left Lubbock.

  As we stood watching the bride and groom dance awkwardly on the rented dance floor under the gigantic tent, I leaned in to tell him, “I’m going inside to call Viv.”

  The huge house had, I kid you not, two guest bathrooms off the mud room leading in from the garage. I pretended I was waiting for the women’s to be empty, but really, I just wanted a chance to talk to Viv in private.

  “I have news!” she said as soon as she picked up.

  “No, me first,” I protested.

  “I’m older. I go first.”

  “Tony said I could keep doing investigations with you,” I blurted. “He even had business cards made for me, and pre-paid for self-defense classes.” I decided to leave out the part about the gun. “There. I was first.”

  She made an impatient sound, then said, “Well, okay, you’re forgiven, but only because that’s really good news. And just in time, because of my news.”

  “What’s your news?”

  “Nope. You took my turn, you’re going to have to drag it out of me.”

  “Seriously? Come on, I – “

  “That weasel Nigel stole Anne’s brooch. That old turtle thing she wore sometimes? With the emeralds and pearls? Turns out it was worth about twenty-five grand! And now her daughter’s up here pitching a conniption fit!”

  “Viv,” I hissed. “You really need to tone down your glee a bit. This is bad news.”

  “Of course, it is. Horrible. Tragic.” She laughed, and in the background I heard her clap her hands together. “We’re gettin’ the band back together, man!”

  Want more of Salem and the gang? Sign up for my newsletter and get 2 free short stories, excerpts from upcoming books, and publishing news. Go to www.FreeBooksFrom Kim to sign up!

  If you enjoyed Knickers in a Twist, I would love it if you could take a few minutes to leave a review. Thank you!

  Titles in the Trailer Park Princ
ess Series

  The Middle Finger of Fate (Book One)

  Unsightly Bulges (Book Two)

  Caught in the Crotchfire (Book Three)

  ‘Tis the Friggin’ Season (Short Story)

  The Power of Bacon (Short Story)

  Mud, Sweat, and Tears (Short Story)

  Knickers in a Twist (Book Four)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This is me. I bought this outfit

  and got my roots done for this picture. You can’t tell, but I also got a pedicure. It was a big day for me, let me tell you. My hands are curled up because I didn’t want to spring for the mani.

  The award-winning author of the Trailer Park Princess comic mystery series. Kim Hunt Harris knew she wanted to be a writer before she even knew how to write. When her parents read bedtime stories to her, she knew she wanted to be a part of the story world. She started out writing children’s stories, and her stories grew as she did. She discovered a gift for humor and a love for making people laugh with her tales, and the Trailer Park Princess series was born.

  Kim loves to not only make her readers laugh and entertain them with a good mystery, but also to examine the issues the everyday people face...well, every day. Issues like faith and forgiveness, perseverance, and tolerance. Set in Lubbock, Texas, the fun books feature a cast of quirky characters, outrageous situations, a drama queen of a dog, and from time to time, a tear or two.

  Kim lives with her husband of more than thirty years and two kids in West Texas.

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