Family & Fortune (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Book 5)

by Tracy Ellen

  Is there anything more annoying than a joyfully fertile female prancing around telling fortunes and proclaiming you’re also destined for motherhood?

  I agree there’s not, but it’s the only real con in my long years of friendship with Darcy, so I let it slide.

  Opening their card, it took me a sec to realize it wasn’t a birthday card, but a thank you card. I checked the envelope again and confirmed it was addressed to me. There was a long note from Darcy written in her tiny and nearly indecipherable cursive. Squinting, I shook my head even as I laughed. It brought back frustrating memories of puzzling out her notes from middle school days. I’d forgotten how hard her handwriting was to read.

  The gist of her message was thanking me for agreeing to do something not specified while stating that I was completely trustworthy and would do an excellent job. Perplexed, the only explanation I could come up with was that Arthur had mistakenly given me the wrong card. I had to chuckle thinking of Darcy’s face when she found out. As it was, all of her friends routinely gave her crap for being Mrs. Superwoman. She would be mortified I’d seen a thank you note written in advance that assumed I would agree to do whatever it was she wanted. Still mystified what that was, I opened the packet.

  Smoothing out a few folded papers, the first page was an itinerary for an occasion dated for the end of January. As I read over the details, my confusion lifted. The Miltons had decided their brood needed sponsors. They were rectifying the matter in one fell swoop and had picked me as one of the sponsors for all their boys. It was the first I’d heard of the idea, but Darcy was correct in assuming I’d be honored to be chosen.

  I was familiar with the role a sponsor played in a kid’s life. Tre J’s sister had kids and Tre was a godparent to one. Even at their young age, Darcy was the type of parent that saw to it her boys were involved in every extra-curricular activity under the sun. Since there were bound to be many activities to select from, it would be kind of fun to show up for a few of the boys’ future important events. Besides, having an official reason to spoil the Milton A Team--Atlas, Apollo, Ajax, and baby Adonis--rotten a couple of times of year with presents would be cool.

  It was a pity the Milton brood were all boys though, since buying little boy clothes sucked compared to baby girls. I felt better knowing Anna and Stella would never let me down by having boys. Then I really got over it when I realized my presents didn’t ever have to be practical. What kids wouldn’t love BB guns, handcuffs, slingshots, and little mountain bikes?

  It reminded me that becoming an expert with a slingshot was still on my Mind-Body-Heart list. I should probably add escaping from handcuffs to that list, too.

  Darcy was right. I was going to be an excellent fairy godmother.

  Chapter VI

  “Cut the Cake” by Average White Band

  Tuesday, 12/18

  9:30 AM

  The apartment door buzzed. I quickly stuffed Darcy’s papers back into the envelope and stashed it in a kitchen drawer to read later. Once I noted the date for the celebration, I wasn’t too concerned about the rest of the details since my answer was yes. If I had to do anything special to be a sponsor, we’d discuss the particulars together this Saturday night anyway.

  Unlocking the door, I heard Anna calling up the stairs before I saw her. “Dang it, Junior, when are you going to give me the code to this door? Wasn’t your party the best surprise ever? And what about that birthday cake, eh? Was it awesome or was it awesome?”

  “You are never getting the code,” I called back, and then looked down over the half-wall ledge to see Anna rounding the landing. She had a tote bag on her shoulder and was carrying a huge, rectangular white bakery box. “Whoa!”

  Running down to meet her on the stairs, we played tug of war with the bakery box until she gave it up and laughingly complained, “What the hell, Junior, I’m pregnant not crippled!”

  “Yeah, but think how terrible I’d feel if you fell and hurt this box.” I whisked the box to the kitchen island while she followed and called me unfriendly names.

  When she paused for breath, I said, “And yes, for the fifty-eighth time, the party was a totally awesome surprise. I was completely flummoxed and flabbergasted.” I cut her a look of wounded betrayal. “I’m sure you, of all people, know that I’d never expect a party at Crazy’s place of work.”

  “Yeah, I think we all got the message how flummoxed you were when you whipped out that gun of yours.” She laughed merrily. “Geesh, I about peed my pants!”

  The musical sound of her belly laugh never failed to bring on my smile. I slit the tape off the bakery box lid with a steak knife and peered inside while I replied, “Now, Anna, don’t be a fibber. No doubt about it--you did pee. I saw the wet circle on your jeans.”

  Anna smirked. “No, that was from your brother’s mouth when he was slobbering and rooting in my lap in the parking lot before the party.”

  “What!” I gagged on my first bite of a figure eight Danish. “I did not just hear that bit of nastiness.” Waving the Danish, I hastily shook my head back and forth. “Okay, new BFF rule. As long as it’s my brother you are talking about, you can never tell me anything about the rooting or slobbering in your life ever, ever again.”

  “Yeah, right, as if I can stop myself,” Anna retorted truthfully. “I know how you feel about Crazy, though. Cripes, I almost had a shit fit when NanaBel told Reg and me at the airport that she had arranged with Candy to have the party at your Uncle Trevor’s warehouse,” Anna shrugged, eyes rounded with innocence, “but what could I say? NanaBel was in charge of finding the place for the party. She also asked Crazy to lure you there somehow. It wasn’t like I could tell her that you’d beaten up Candy and threatened to disfigure her ass with acid or whatever, if she came around.” Anna had been searching inside her purse while talking and pulled out a peppermint candy. Popping one in her mouth, she started crunching. “Besides, it was too good of an idea to pass up. You’d never suspect Candy would throw you a surprise party.”

  My mouth was full, so I settled for shrugging in agreement because that was damn true.

  Anna grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat at the island. “Okay, we have a few minutes before the others get here, so I want the full story of what’s been going on for the last couple of days--not this generic bull crap you and Luke are spreading around.”

  “Alright.” I smiled over the rim of my coffee cup when she looked surprised at my easy agreement. “Who is coming over?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “The usual suspects, I think. Why?”

  “If you don’t mind then, I’m going to wait until everybody is here. I may as well let you all in on the true version of what happened,” I smiled wider, “because you’re right--what Luke and I said at the party was mostly BS meant to make the gossip go away.”

  Anna pounded the island. “I knew it!” She put her hands together in prayer and beseeched, “Don’t you dare make me wait to hear if you got your licks in on that slut Svettie.”

  Best friends can be fun. Luckily, the motherly pregnancy hormones of fairness and equality for all hadn’t yet diluted Anna’s native bloodthirstiness.

  “Waaaa!” I mimicked a ninja call while I performed the open hand strike. “She got one of my new self-defense moves right in the solar plexus.”

  “Yippee! That’s a painful thing, right?”

  “Only if by painful thing you mean doubled over and unable to breathe?”

  “I do, I do. Yippee!” She squealed again and we bumped fists.

  “Yes, it was a beautiful thing.” With a satisfied sigh, I added, “So was the expression on Chief Jack’s face when he saw his ‘angel’ in action. Waaaa!”

  “Oh my God,” Anna bounced in her seat as she laughed, “now that’s priceless!”

  “And Luke was there, too.”

  “Get the fuck out!” She exclaimed while we bumped four fists this time. “So the boyfriend got to watch his woman do her thing. Could it be any better?”

&nbs
p; “Well,” I dropped my eyes demurely, “only if by better you mean did I make Svettie cry?”

  “Quit!” Somewhat hysterically, she gasped out, “You’re making me wet my pants here--for realz!”

  I reared back quickly and called out to the room at large, “Oh no, she’s leaking liquids again. Reg, where are you when I need you!”

  Anna’s face clouded up at my mention of Reggie.

  “Yeah, your brother’s been a bit of an asspants lately.”

  Not wanting to go there, I said hurriedly, “But did I mention the birthday cake you created was delicious beyond belief?”

  “Only a few times.” Anna perked up, her smile tenuously flashing. “But yeah? You really thought so?”

  “Heck yeah, I know so. First birthday cake in my life there wasn’t a red gel poinsettia in sight.” I finished off the Danish and daintily licked a sticky finger before wiping it on a napkin. “You don’t know how much I thank you for that, my darling Anna.”

  “Yeah, I really do know.” She chuckled and popped another peppermint. “You’ve been bitching about those poinsettias since we were kids, but you’re welcome.”

  I wadded the used napkin and threw it in the garbage can a few feet away. “Huh, that’s an interesting point you bring up. Maybe I’ll take back my thanks. You’ve been a pastry chef for how many years now,” I raised my brows, “and yet every year I suffer those gel flowers? Why, Anna, why?”

  She giggled even as she vigorously shook her head. “Oh no, you can blame your big sister for that, not me. This was the first year Mac has ever allowed anyone but her to be in charge of your birthday party. Mac has it stuck in her head your cake has to be a certain way or you’ll be crushed. Something about how your mom decorated a cake with poinsettias when you were little?” Anna’s expression looked guiltily triumphant when she admitted, “Anyway, I didn’t tell her what I was doing.”

  I grinned. “Anna, are you saying you lied to big bad Mac about my birthday cake?”

  “Yep,” Anna smirked proudly, “and I lied to you, too.” At my pointed look of mock horror, she reiterated, “Oh yes, I lied alright, and you didn’t suspect a thing. When I called yesterday morning and said I didn’t feel good? Ha! I was busy baking and organizing last minute stuff for the party.” She snapped her fingers and waved a hand in front of my face. “See, you’re not the only one who can BS people. Uh huh, that’s right. But it’s all because of me that you got pretty flowers instead of red gel, so no taking back your thanks.”

  “Well okay then, no take backs.” I shook my head and regarded my gloating friend with sad eyes. “But you may want to see a therapist about the chronic lying; it’s a most unattractive trait, Anna.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes, but I forgot my teasing as elusive memories ignited in my head like firecrackers. I placed my hands flat on the cold granite of the island and relaxed, allowing the flashing images and words to flow through my brain without trying to force any sense of order.

  Slowly, they evolved into a clearer, cohesive picture until I stated wonderingly, “You are so right, Mac is responsible for ruining my birthday cake for years with her damn erroneous revisions of our family history!”

  Anna was peeking into the bakery box with a grumpy look on her face. She didn’t look up when she replied under her breath, “Whatever the heck that means.”

  Leaning forward with urgency, I said, “Anna, all of a sudden I’ve had these old memories resurface after you said that about my mom. You came home with me from Kindergarten for my family dinner birthday party. Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Anna replied matter of factly, snapping down the bakery box lid with unnecessary force. “It was on a Friday. I wore a purple dress and white tights. They had little purple hearts all over them.”

  “Wow!” I exclaimed, somewhat shocked. “You remember the day and what you wore?”

  Anna drank some water and then set the bottle down as she laughed without mirth. “I’ll say I do. Aunt Lily used your party to threaten me that whole week. She said I wouldn’t be able to go to your house on Friday if I was a bad girl.” She crossed her arms over her chest and her voice turned accusing. “The outfit I remember clear as a bell, since you tripped me into a pile of dirty snow on the way home--snow that was covering sharp rocks. My knees got all scraped up. All night long at your house the blood oozed from those scrapes and then dried onto my tights.” She glared at me. “When I went home and got undressed, I kicked off the tights like I always did. I ripped those scabs right off both of my knees, Junior, and that hurt like hell. Do you know how long my knees took to heal?” Not waiting for an answer, she threw out her arms. “I don’t either, but it seemed like they were pus-filled messes forever and I still have the scars. Plus, I got in trouble for ruining my new tights!”

  I raised my brows when it was clear she was done. “And?”

  “And what?” she demanded.

  “And if you remember all those trivial details so well, what else do you remember about my cake problem?” I asked patiently, trying not to laugh at her thunderous expression. “Wasn’t it my fake godmother, Jamie Wade who brought that first horrid poinsettia cake to our house from some grocery store?”

  Anna made a gesture any angry Italian would be proud of, but then she paused and her eyes opened wide. “Cripes, I do remember. So your mother never decorated that cake. Besides, didn’t your mother have her arm in a cast?”

  “Yes, she had a broken arm!’ I cried out in excitement, my data banks flooding with more flashbacks. “Or was it her wrist? That’s right! Mom had trouble cooking dinner because she’d broken her wrist when she slipped on some ice and fell under her car.”

  Anna laughed. “Hey, just like you do every year.”

  “Not every year, and I’ve certainly never broken a bone.”

  “Oh yes, every year,” Anna added emphatically, “and sometimes twice. And you’ve never broken anything because your bones haven’t been hollowed out by five, calcium-sucking Axelrod fetuses like your poor mother’s bones by our age.”

  I whistled soundlessly. “I’ve never noticed it much before, but now that you’ve brought it up, you really do lie quite a lot, Anna.”

  She scoffed, “Yeah, right.” Tossing back her brown hair she shouted, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.”

  I jumped, but then we dissolved into giggles at her Jack Nicholson impersonation. I have no idea why, but that line was one of Anna’s favorites to use wherever she could. It always made me laugh after I got over the shock of being surprised. Maybe it was the deep, harsh voice screaming out of Anna the friendly chipmunk’s throat.

  Another lost memory came to the forefront of my mind and I snapped my fingers. “Hey, and wasn’t it you who rhapsodized on and on that night about how pretty that butt ugly birthday cake was when Jamie started slicing it up?”

  Anna started to belly laugh again while saying, “Yeah, but I was only being polite so Jamie would cut me a bigger piece. You know how Aunt Lily was about treats at my house.”

  “My, oh my. False flattery and lying.” I made a tsking sound and shook my head. “Yes, Anna, it’s become quite clear that I have you to thank for many things. You planted the poinsettia seed in poor Mac’s brain twenty-four years ago.” I pointed an accusing finger. “With your false flattery and gluttony, you single-handedly guaranteed that I never received another pretty birthday cake for over two decades. Decades!”

  Holding her sides, Anna gasped out, “Oh, grow up, Junior. It’s just a damn cake. I promise to bake you one every year from now on with buttercream flowers.”

  “Lies, false flattery, gluttony, and now bakery blasphemy. I cringe to see what you’ll do to a promise,” I held out my hand and grinned, “but you have yourself a deal.”

  “Deal.” Anna shook my hand once and laughingly complained, “Geesh, you were starting to sound like Aunt Lily. It creeped me out, although you’re right about the bakery blasphemy part. Your birthday cake was awesome. I slaved over creatin
g all those flowers, but it was fun.”

  “Please give my sincere compliments to the chef. The cake was an exquisite masterpiece, prettier than a springtime bouquet of colorful roses.” Finger hovering over the bakery box, I helped myself next to a cake donut. It was frosted with pink sprinkles. “Aren’t you having anything?” I stopped before my next bite to ask, “Uh oh. We weren’t supposed to wait for the others, were we?”

  Anna’s face had flushed happily at my cake praise, but she gave me a disgusted look at my question. “Yeah, right. I’d like to see the person that can hold you back from scarfing down bakery treats.”

  I laughingly agreed.

  “I’d kill for an éclair, but it’s not worth the misery.” She rubbed high on her slightly rounded abdomen. “I’ve only ever had heartburn once in my life. Now I get it practically every time I eat anything other than salads.” She made a face and complained, “Stella says Tums or Rolaids are not good. Something about gastrin, and also crossing the placenta without enough studies to know if they harm the baby.” She waved a hand in confusion. “It made sense at the time, so I’m not taking them, but these peppermints just aren’t cutting it.”

  Mouth full again, my sympathetic look was heartfelt.

  “I know, it sucks to be me, but the good news is I’m less likely to get gestational diabetes because I’m eating healthy.” She motioned at my half eaten donut. “You, on the other hand, will probably have to get body parts amputated in your fifties.” Before I finished swallowing to reply, she brightened. “Talking about good news, did you hear about the baron?”

  Not sure what she was referring to, I played it cautious and shook my head. “No, what?”

  “Oh, not too much, except he’s filthy freaking rich, that’s what!” Grinning from ear to ear, she sat forward on crossed arms to dish, as if she had to keep her voice down. “He’s offered to pay both of our wedding parties’ airline tickets, upgraded to first class no less. He also wants to pay for swanky suites at the Bellagio. For all of us!”