09 To the Nines by Janet Evanovich Read Free Book Online Page B

cleared and the dishes were done, I made my move to leave.
    “I need to talk to you,” my mother said, following me out of the house to stand curbside, where we had privacy.
    The bottom of the sun had sunk into the Krienski's asbestos shingle roof, a sure sign that the day was ending. Kids ran in packs, burning off the last of their energy. Parents and grandparents sat on small front porches. The air was dead still, heavy with the promise of a hot tomorrow. Inside my parents' house, my father and grandmother sat glued to the television. The muffled rise and fall of a sitcom laugh track escaped the house and joined the mix of street noise.
    “I'm worried about your sister,” my mother said. “What's to become of her? A baby due in two weeks and no husband. She should marry Albert. You have to talk to her.”
    “No way! One minute she's all smiley face and crying because she loves me so much and then next thing I know she's grumpy. I want the old Valerie back. The one with no personality. And besides, I'm not exactly an expert at marriage. Look at me ... I can't even figure out my own life.”
    “I'm not asking a lot. I just want you to talk to her. Get her to understand that she's having a baby.”
    “Mom, she knows she's having a baby. She's as big as a Volkswagen. She's already done it twice before.”
    “Yes, but both times she did it in California. It's not the same. And she had a husband then. And a house.”
    Okay, now we're getting somewhere. “This is about the house, right?”
    “I feel like the old lady who lived in a shoe. Remember the rhyme? She had so many children she didn't know what to do? One more person in this house and we're going to have to sleep in shifts. Your father's talking about renting a Porta Potti for the backyard. And it's not just the house. This is the Burg. Women don't go off and have babies without husbands here. Every time I go to the grocery, I meet someone who wants to know when Valerie is getting married.”
    I thought this was a good deal. It used to be that people wanted to know when I was getting married.
    “She's in the kitchen eating the rest of the cake,” my mother said. “She's probably got it topped with gravy. You could go in and talk to her. Tell her Albert Kloughn is a good man.”
    “Valerie doesn't want to hear this from me.”
    “What's it going to take?” my mother wanted to know. “German chocolate torte?”
    The German chocolate torte took hours to make. My mother hated to make the German chocolate torte.
    “German chocolate torte and a leg of lamb. That's my best offer,” she said.
    “Boy, you're really serious.”
    My mother grabbed me by the front of my shirt. “I'm desperate! I'm on the window ledge on the fortieth floor and I'm looking down.”
    I did an eye roll and a sigh and I trudged back into the house, into the kitchen. Sure enough, Valerie was at the small kitchen table, snarfing down cake.
    “Mom wants me to talk to you,” I said.
    “Not now. I'm busy. I'm eating for two, you know.”
    Two elephants. “Mom thinks you should marry Kloughn.”
    Valerie forked off a huge piece and shoved it into her mouth. “Kloughn's boring. Would you marry Kloughn?”
    “No, but then I won't even marry Morelli.”
    “I want to marry Ranger. Ranger is hot.”
    I couldn't deny it. Ranger was hot. “I don't think Ranger's the marrying type,” I said. “And there would be a lot of things to consider. For instance, I think once in a while he might kill people.”
    “Yeah, but not random, right?”
    “Probably not random.”
    Valerie was scraping at the leftover smudges of whipped cream. “So that would be okay. Nobody's perfect.”
    “Okay, then,” I said. “Good talk. I'll pass this on to Mom.”
    “It isn't as if I'm anti-marriage,” Valerie said, eyeing the grease and drippings left in the roasting pan.
    I backed out of the kitchen and ran into my mom.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “Valerie's thinking about it. And the good news is ... she's