Feel the Fizz
When we got to the tax lady's house, Rylie was sitting beside that friend of hers whose name I can't remember. The moment she saw me, she sprang up from the couch, leapt over the coffee table, pushed Jeremiah out of the way, and wrapped her arms around me. Digging her forehead into my shoulder, she squealed, “What took you so long? Why didn't you get here earlier? I've missed you so much!”
I stammered the words, “I didn't even know I was invited.”
“You're always invited,” the tax lady said from her easy chair in the corner. “Every Friday night is an open house.”
I didn't mean to groan, but I definitely did groan.
Jeremiah raised both his eyebrows, then turned his gaze on Rylie, as if to ask me, “How do you plan to get out of this predicament?”
Fortunately, that sca
