Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Jeanne Glidewell
said, "Let's get out of here and let her cool down. My guess is she needs to be on some kind of medication, or seek counseling for anger management."
Rip had forgotten that when he wasn't wearing his hearing aids, which was the majority of the time, he had a tendency to speak louder than normal. Reggie screamed from the kitchen, "I don't need medicine or counseling! I need a husband who treats me like an equal and parents who understand what I'm going through!"
Rip led me to the door. Before we exited the house, I yelled, "And, by the way, there ain't no 'damn' flamingos here in south Texas!"
"I never said there were!" Reggie shouted back in a rage. I heard her holler a very profane expletive just as her front door was closing behind us. There's no way I'd take the blame for her potty mouth or her impertinent attitude. I'd raised her better than that. Even those few ill-advised cigarettes I'd smoked during my pregnancy could not account for her current irrational behavior. At five-nine, Reggie was taller than both her father and me, so they hadn't stunted her growth, either.
Rip and I both walked to the truck in stunned dismay. Even the Chevy appeared disappointed when it failed to start on the first two attempts. Perhaps the old girl overheard Regina's description of her , I thought.
I hated having such a hurtful confrontation with my only child. I worried about the state of her marriage, and also the ripple effect the argument might have on our relationship with her. It saddened me and I felt terrible about the nasty spat. However, I really didn't believe Rip or I had done or said anything we should repent for, so didn't feel compelled to offer our daughter what would have been an insincere apology.
"So how are you enjoying being home for the holidays so far, sweetheart?" Rip asked ruefully after he pulled away from the curb.
"Not so much! And do you know what really ticks me off?"
"What?"
"That we just spent over six-hundred bucks on a fishing trip that ain't likely to take place now."
Rip didn't reply. This time I didn't think it was due to his hearing loss but more to his despondency about the quarrel with Reggie. I'd wanted to suggest that we head straight back to Tackle Town to return all the items we'd just purchased, but the poignant look on his face and moisture in his eyes persuaded me to remain silent.
Chapter 3
To my surprise, Milo called early Sunday morning to ask if we were ready to head out on our fishing excursion. Rip, a glass-half-full kind of guy, had already laid all the gear we'd need on the sofa in our trailer. This was one of those times I wished we had a larger trailer, with a slide-out or two, to give us extra space for things like a huge pile of expensive fishing equipment we'd probably never use again. The pile of useless crap would no doubt take up valuable storage space for years until Rip finally broke down and pitched it all in some campground's dumpster one day.
We had no place to store the stuff; even the extra space under the bed was already jammed full. But Rip had assured me he'd make room for it in the storage compartment under the trailer's chassis. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he planned to throw out to open up extra space. I just knew it better not be my pressure cooker and two cases of empty canning jars I had every intention of utilizing again someday. Finding a place to grow a garden might prove challenging for a full-time RVer, but despite that, I'd steadfastly refused to remove gardening from my bucket list. And until I came to my senses, the canning jars and pressure cooker were going to remain in storage.
While speaking with Rip on the phone, Milo told him it'd just be the three of us because he hadn't been able to get in touch with Cooper Claypool. Milo explained the other man was not home when he drove by his house the previous night or again that morning. Together, the two men had originally planned for the four of us to go out in Cooper's boat.
Rip had forgotten that when he wasn't wearing his hearing aids, which was the majority of the time, he had a tendency to speak louder than normal. Reggie screamed from the kitchen, "I don't need medicine or counseling! I need a husband who treats me like an equal and parents who understand what I'm going through!"
Rip led me to the door. Before we exited the house, I yelled, "And, by the way, there ain't no 'damn' flamingos here in south Texas!"
"I never said there were!" Reggie shouted back in a rage. I heard her holler a very profane expletive just as her front door was closing behind us. There's no way I'd take the blame for her potty mouth or her impertinent attitude. I'd raised her better than that. Even those few ill-advised cigarettes I'd smoked during my pregnancy could not account for her current irrational behavior. At five-nine, Reggie was taller than both her father and me, so they hadn't stunted her growth, either.
Rip and I both walked to the truck in stunned dismay. Even the Chevy appeared disappointed when it failed to start on the first two attempts. Perhaps the old girl overheard Regina's description of her , I thought.
I hated having such a hurtful confrontation with my only child. I worried about the state of her marriage, and also the ripple effect the argument might have on our relationship with her. It saddened me and I felt terrible about the nasty spat. However, I really didn't believe Rip or I had done or said anything we should repent for, so didn't feel compelled to offer our daughter what would have been an insincere apology.
"So how are you enjoying being home for the holidays so far, sweetheart?" Rip asked ruefully after he pulled away from the curb.
"Not so much! And do you know what really ticks me off?"
"What?"
"That we just spent over six-hundred bucks on a fishing trip that ain't likely to take place now."
Rip didn't reply. This time I didn't think it was due to his hearing loss but more to his despondency about the quarrel with Reggie. I'd wanted to suggest that we head straight back to Tackle Town to return all the items we'd just purchased, but the poignant look on his face and moisture in his eyes persuaded me to remain silent.
Chapter 3
To my surprise, Milo called early Sunday morning to ask if we were ready to head out on our fishing excursion. Rip, a glass-half-full kind of guy, had already laid all the gear we'd need on the sofa in our trailer. This was one of those times I wished we had a larger trailer, with a slide-out or two, to give us extra space for things like a huge pile of expensive fishing equipment we'd probably never use again. The pile of useless crap would no doubt take up valuable storage space for years until Rip finally broke down and pitched it all in some campground's dumpster one day.
We had no place to store the stuff; even the extra space under the bed was already jammed full. But Rip had assured me he'd make room for it in the storage compartment under the trailer's chassis. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he planned to throw out to open up extra space. I just knew it better not be my pressure cooker and two cases of empty canning jars I had every intention of utilizing again someday. Finding a place to grow a garden might prove challenging for a full-time RVer, but despite that, I'd steadfastly refused to remove gardening from my bucket list. And until I came to my senses, the canning jars and pressure cooker were going to remain in storage.
While speaking with Rip on the phone, Milo told him it'd just be the three of us because he hadn't been able to get in touch with Cooper Claypool. Milo explained the other man was not home when he drove by his house the previous night or again that morning. Together, the two men had originally planned for the four of us to go out in Cooper's boat.
Readers choose
J. Langland
A. S. A. Harrison
James Ellroy
Nick S. Thomas
Lauren Myracle
Son of Stone
Penny Vincenzi
Christopher Chancy
Zoraida Cordova
Guy Adams