"See, Vonnie," Uncle Richard agreed.

I covered up the eye roll and let my uncle jerk me closer to his home.

My aunt and uncle lived in a ranch-style that closely resembled the one across the street. They built all the homes on this road in the seventies and they looked similar to one another. By that time, builders gave up on making the houses look like they belonged on the ocean or a Better Homes and Gardens magazine and decided on fast over aesthetic.

Their house was cute, but something about a Cape Cod said East Coast that the ranches couldn't pull off.

"We really don't have time to stay for dinner, Uncle Richard," I said as he yanked me forward and Broadrick patted my shoulder in defeat.

How come he was so bossy and mouthy to me but bent over backward for my family?

"The loaf was coming out of the oven when I went to get the mail. Claire's probably looking for me now if she hasn't already eaten the best parts."

"What?" I flipped up my cell phone to activate the screen. "It's only four o'clock."

"Your aunt is practicing for retirement." Uncle Richard opened the front door and let me walk in after him. He only released my arm once I crossed the threshold. He shivered again once he was fully inside and Broadrick closed the door behind him.

"Do you two have big retirement plans?" Broadrick asked as he stomped out his boots on the rug.

I closed my eyes and tried not to moan. He'd opened the floodgates now. My aunt and uncle had been planning their retirement for as long as I remember. One year for their anniversary, they toured retirement homes in Florida for vacation. They were in their late forties.

My uncle really hated his job as the purchase manager for the school district, so he said this kept him going on hard days.

"Claire and I are planning on sunny skies in retirement. No more of this constant gray cloud cover we have here."

It was constantly cloudy in the winter. He had some points.

Broadrick walked further into the home first, and I held back to watch his face when he got a look at my aunt's decorating. He only pinched his lips together and had a slight eye-widening moment.

Right beyond their short hallway at the entrance of the ranch, you rounded a corner and were plopped into their dining and living room combo. Here my aunt hung a variety of her recent hobby products. During my middle school years, she'd been into cross stitch and chickens. It meant she filled her walls with cross-stitched chickens in various scenes and color palettes.

Lately, she'd moved on to a new adventure.

Diamond paintings.

And boy, did Aunt Claire love the diamond paintings. Every square inch of available wall space held a frame with a sparkly painting in it. The table tops featured her smaller pieces mixed in with left-over chicken figurines in the open spaces.

"Did you see the new piece, Vonnie?" Aunt Claire said as she walked out of the kitchen holding a bright red pan. "Oh, you brought Broadrick."

She sounded way too happy as she said it and then deposited the pan on the table and walked over to him. With her oven mitt still covering her hand, she squeezed his upper arm and grinned.

Broadrick smiled and flexed for her. He still had on his puffy coat, so it's not like she could feel anything, anyway.

"I'll give you an extra helping since you're a growing boy," she said.

He smiled right back.

I turned around and gave the wall a fake gag.

"You two are staying for dinner. Right?" She gave my uncle the look.

He nodded, fully aware he forced me inside to avoid that expression from her. "Of course. They were visiting a friend across the street, but once I mentioned your meatloaf, Vonnie volunteered to stay."

Aunt Claire beamed and gave Broadrick a pat on the arm as she left. "I also made biscuits."

Oh great. More food.

There was one important piece of information I hadn't had time or privacy to give Broadrick.

My aunt Claire was the world's worst cook.

"We can't stay long. I'm working on the murder at the bed-and-breakfast," I said, taking a chair at the table where my uncle pulled it out.

Aunt Claire placed an empty plate in front of me. Tiny chickens chasing eggs decorated the outer rim. She gave a matching one to Broadrick after my uncle pulled out the chair next to me for him to sit.

"I thought they caught the shooter," Uncle Richard said as he cut into the meatloaf and deposited a slice onto Broadrick's plate.

Aunt Claire stole the knife from him, cut a second piece bigger than the first, and laid it on Broadrick's plate as well. A weird brown juice seeped from the pieces to pool on the edges of his plate.

The tough SEAL glanced at me, and I shrugged.

He'd regret those shoulder pats in the street once he got his first bite.

"No, I'm pretty sure there's a second shooter," I said and jammed my fork into the slice as soon as Aunt Claire dropped my piece on the plate.

When it came to Claire's cooking, it was best to shove it in and chew fast. The house smelled like cooking meat and fresh bread, but it was deceiving.

"Don't forget a biscuit," she said as I chewed and swallowed.

"Thanks," I said around the bite of food and accepted it from her. The small, round, burned piece of bread was as heavy as a rock. I tapped it on the table's edge when no one was looking and then accidentally dropped it in Broadrick's lap.

He jumped backward, almost flipping his chair, and tossed it back at me. I missed the catch, and the roll fell to the floor.

Shit.

Broadrick dug into his meatloaf and I forgot the missing roll just long enough to watch his expression. The first bite hit his tongue and his stomach sucked in, his eyes widened, and his throat tightened.

He swallowed, and I held in the laugh as I used my foot to search the floor for the missing roll. I'd had many years of practice swallowing her food without tasting.

"Did you hear me, Vonnie?" Aunt Claire asked.

I jerked my head up and left my foot to continue the search without visual aids. "Huh?"

"Are you bringing Broadrick to family Christmas this year?" she asked.

My foot dropped the search. "What? It's February."

"I need time to find the perfect gift. Your uncle doesn't make a lot at the school, so I need time to sale shop." She flipped back a chuck of her straight dark brown hair and dusted off her hands in front of her. "Don't wait around like me because one day your eggs will spoil and there's nothing you can do about it."

Broadrick choked on a sip of water and set his glass on the table with a thud. My foot jerked back, and I hit the roll, making it bounce under my chair as I thumped Broadrick on the back to stop myself from dying of embarrassment.

"Mom always said you guys didn't want kids." It was the only thought that came to mind.

My uncle cut into his dinner roll and stared at the dark middle. "We accepted our fate. Right, Claire?"

She smiled. "Has your uncle told you about our retirement place in Florida? It has a pool. You two will have to visit us on your honeymoon."

Honeymoon? What the hell? I toed the dinner roll to the front of my chair and then kicked it far away to the other side of the room. If my aunt ever cleaned under her antique buffet, she was in for a surprise. Two years ago I hid a half a bowl of croutons under there. Each one flicked one at a time. In my defense, who served you a bowl of just croutons with a piece of Salisbury steak?

"Wonderful views of the ocean. We're hoping to whale watch."

"Wow, that sounds... expensive." I had a lot to process, from the dying eggs to the missing dinner roll. My mind couldn't handle more.

My uncle bit into his dinner roll and somehow didn't lose a tooth. "No, we got a great deal on the place."

"The old owner died in the living room trying to call for help," Aunt Claire said without a hint of inflection. "They found him before it got too messy. So we don't even have to replace the carpets."

"Choked on a hard candy," Uncle Richard threw in.

"You never told me your family lived such colorful lives," Broadrick said as he swallowed another piece of meatloaf. A piece on his plate squished as he jammed his fork into it.

It took another forty minutes of awkward conversation before Broadrick and I escaped the madness of the Green household. I'd never understand how my mother and her brother grew up to be such weirdos when I was perfectly normal. Even my sister carried the weird genes. She'd end up in a home with chicken plates and curtains one day.

Broadrick handed me the large plastic sour cream container, which now held our leftover meatloaf, and took the car keys from me.

"It's my car. I should drive."

He unlocked the doors. "We're going home, and I don't trust you to get us there without another amazing detour."

"My detours are the best," I said, but got into the passenger seat with the leftovers. How much sour cream did they eat at their house?

Broadrick drove us straight back to my place, and when a black truck pulled up in the driveway behind us, he gathered NB from the passenger seat. I waved to Spencer as he backed out with his dog, Frankie, barking beside him as a goodbye to his friend.

NB stayed in Broadrick's arms rather than run around and pee on his favorite bush outside my new place.

"He's tuckered out," I said as Broadrick carried him into the house.

"It will be a short nighttime walk. You want to do it with me and then watch something on television?" he asked as I put the leftovers away in the fridge.

Neither of us would eat them, but in a month I'd find them again, toss them out, and return the sour cream container to my aunt. She'd carry on about how I didn't have to return her container, but we both knew if I didn't, she'd complain to my mother about it in five years and they'd probably write it on my tombstone.

Here lies Vonnie Vines. She didn't return the good Tupperware.

"No, I've got a few errands to run before I call it a night."

Broadrick sighed as he set NB on the couch. "Make sure and wear mittens. It's going to get cold."

I gave him a solute and then headed back to Rachel. To be safe, I circled the block, so he didn't see me on the phone and wonder.

The only good thing about eating dinner at four was that now I didn't have to stop and grab food in the middle of my next important job.

"Hello," Lainey said, when she answered after the second ring.

"Hey, it's Vonnie. Are you alone?" I slowed in front of the bakery to get a look at who was inside the building.

Pearl sat in her favorite seat across from the register, chatting with Anessa as she leaned against the counter. Good. I wasn't missing anything important.

"Yes, I just got home," she answered.

I slammed on the brakes as someone walked across the street, and a car turned onto Main Street from one of the side roads. Bad drivers.

"Great. Get dressed in that black clothing."

"Why?" she asked, sounding suspicious. "What is your plan?"

Why did people always question my plans?

"We're going to screw with your stalker, Mr. Hill, like he screwed with you. I've got to make a quick stop for supplies, but then I'll come and get you."

It was time to get even.