Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [911]
By the time I got off work, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything.
But of course, I didn’t get my druthers.
There were two women waiting in the front yard at my house, and they both radiated anger. One, I already knew: Frannie Quinn. The woman with her had to be Quinn’s mother. In the harsh glare of the security light I had a good look at the woman whose life had been such a disaster. I realized no one had ever told me her name. She was still pretty, but in a Goth sort of way that wasn’t kind to her age. She was in her forties; her face was gaunt, her eyes shadowed. She had dark hair with more than a touch of gray, and she was very tall and thin. Frannie was wearing a tank top that showed her bra, and tight jeans, and boots. Her mother was wearing pretty much the same outfit but in different colors. I guessed Frannie had charge of dressing her mother.
I parked beside them, because I had no intention of inviting them in. I got out of my car reluctantly.
“You bitch,” Frannie said passionately. Her young face was rigid with anger. “How could you do that to my brother? He did so much for you!”
That was one way to look at it. “Frannie,” I said, keeping my voice as calm and level as I could, “what happens between Quinn and me is really not any of your business.”
The front door opened, and Amelia stepped out on the porch. “Sookie, you need me?” she asked, and I smelled magic around her.
“I’m coming in, in just a second,” I said clearly, but didn’t tell her to go back inside. Mrs. Quinn was a pureblood weretiger, and Frannie was half; they were both stronger than me.
Mrs. Quinn stepped forward and looked at me quizzically. “You’re the one John loved,” she said. “You’re the one who broke up with him.”
“Yes, ma’am. It just wasn’t going to work out.”
“They say I have to go back to that place in the desert,” she said. “Where they store all the crazy Weres.”
No shit. “Oh, do they?” I said, to make it clear I had nothing to do with it.
“Yes,” she said, and lapsed into silence, which was kind of a big relief.
Frannie, however, had not done with me. “I loaned you my car,” she said. “I came to warn you.”
“And I thank you,” I said. My heart sank. I couldn’t think of any magic words to lessen the pain in the air. “Believe me, I wish things had worked out different.” Lame but true.
“What’s wrong with my brother?” Frannie asked. “He’s handsome; he loves you; he’s got money. He’s a great guy. What’s wrong with you that you don’t want him?”
The bald answer—that I really admired Quinn but didn’t want to play second fiddle to his family’s needs—was simply unspeakable for two reasons: it was unnecessarily hurtful, and I might be seriously injured as a result. Mrs. Quinn might not be compos mentis, but she was listening with growing agitation. If she changed to her tiger form, I had no idea what would happen. She might run off into the woods, or she might attack. All this zoomed through my mind in little pictures. I had to say something.
“Frannie,” I said very slowly and deliberately because I had no idea what I was going to follow that up with. “There’s nothing wrong with your brother at all. I think he’s the greatest. But we just have too many strikes against us as a couple. I want him to have the best chance at making a match with some lucky, lucky woman. So I cut him loose. Believe me, I’m hurting, too.” This was mostly true, which helped. But I hoped Amelia had her fingertips primed to deliver some good magic. And I hoped she got the spell right. Just in case, I began shifting away from Frannie and her mother.
Frannie was teetering on the brink of action, and her mother