Chapter Fifteen
The next time Aimee called, Gretel was somewhere she’d never imagined she’d be. An outhouse.
“Hello, darling, how does a cabana on the beach at Baja sound?”
Pretty fricking great, she had to admit. But not out loud. “Been there, got the sand rash.”
“Oh come on, sweetie. How cold is it there?”
“The thermometer outside the outhouse says five-point-two degrees.”
“In Baja it’s seventy, so—wait, what did you say?”
Gretel laughed quietly to herself. “Outhouse. It’s like an outdoor shed plopped over a hole in the ground. But don’t worry, there’s a kind of toilet you can sit on and plenty of toilet paper.”
Nothing but shocked silence on the other end of the phone.
“Mom?”
“Are you in one right now?”
“Yes! Ironically, it’s one of the few places with decent cell service. Wa
