Breakfast Bickerings

“Ugh! Seriously, why do I have to even be here?” The whine came as the teen slumped onto the chair in the Witzler’s side dining room.

“Because you refuse to attend dinner tonight,” Fiona Wynwick replied, shaking her head at her son.

The movement caused the thirty-five-year-old’s long, wavy silver hair to toss around slightly. The premature graying was a genetic quirk of the extended Wynwick family. Despite the silver hair, or because of it, Fiona was viewed as one of the sexiest women in Honey Hollow, with her gray eyes, large breasts, and a toned, athletic figure with a similar ass. The rare underdog from a wealthy family, Fiona had gotten pregnant at sixteen, leading to a scandal and scorn from most of the Wynwick branches and other Bumble families. To their shock, she rose in popularity and kindly competence over the years to score a major upset over her cousin Kermit, and was elected chairperson and Chief Executive Officer of the Wynwick Foundation.

“That’s because I have plans tonight!” Fiona’s eighteen-year-old son reminded. His declaration led to a scoff from his left.

“Probably a skank. I hear the dance team from Guzzle Crossing is in town. They are your level of trouble,” Sienna commented.

“Please. Austin is supposedly trying to bang Astoria. I’m not eating his leftovers.”

“Fletcher! Not appropriate brunch language,” Fiona hissed before glancing over at her niece. “And don’t be jealous of your cousin’s dating life.”

“Hardly,” Sienna scoffed.

“No, it’s not a night of passionate sex. That’s why I skipped Claudia’s party last night. How was it, Si-Si? Oh, right! You don’t do normal things like party or date,” her cousin shot back. “Whoa! Were you the one who helped Goodley and the Goodie Mob infiltrate the party? Enacting your takeover already?”

“I would never deal with that…person!” the ice queen of the school squealed.

“Would you keep it down? People are trying to enjoy their breakfast. Don’t be rude,” Fletch admonished, earning him a giggle from beside his cousin. His mother looked across the table at her sister in defeat. “If you must pry into my affairs, I’m helping Wesley with one of his mystery things tonight.”

That revelation led to a squeak from two seats over.

“It still would be nice if you made an appearance,” Fiona said.

“Let him be. Fletcher would only cause trouble,” Sela Thirlby, Fiona’s older sister, pointed out. At forty-one, the former cheer squad co-captain and head Bumble Girl still looked amazing. Her long, curly blonde hair didn’t show the usual premature graying, but many people in town suspected a dye job. It didn’t matter as she had piercing gray eyes, very large breasts, and a curvy ass that captured most gazes away from her hair.

“She’s got a point, Mom. Putting me in the same room with most of the family in town sounds like an awful idea. I am the devil’s spawn,” Fletcher admitted. “Wait, are Lainey or Sutton going to be there?”

“No, this is a family event, not a foundation one,” Fiona told him, referring to the two program directors. She knew that her son had a crush on the two attractive twenty-six-year-olds. “It’s not a dating service for you.”

“So Tino won’t be there?”

“Santino is my personal assistant. He’ll be there,” Fiona disclosed.

“He assists in numerous personal ways,” her son mumbled about her young lover. Sela smirked at the remark. “Still, you’ll need to keep an eye on this one, since I won’t be around.”

“What does that mean?” Sienna growled, turning to her right to glare at her cousin.

“Take it the way you think, witch,” Fletcher shot back. “You start more trouble at these events than I do.”

“I do not!”

Despite Sienna’s denial, the golden head of hair next to her nodded in agreement with her cousin, even shivering at some of the ice queen’s greatest hits. Sometimes literal hits.

“Leave it be. You know that she’s gotten better at controlling herself at family events,” Sela reminded her nephew.

“Maybe with the physical violence. The sharp tongue is another thing,” Fletch commented. “But that still doesn’t explain why I had to get up super early for brunch. Which I should remind you doesn’t typically start until after ten, at the very least.”

A silent finger from next to Sienna pointed at her wrist to indicate the time.

“It’s nearly ten-fifteen,” Kathleen Francy disclosed from the other side of the round 8-person table. The oldest woman at forty-nine, Kathy, had once been one of the relatives who trashed Fiona. However, times change, and the once stuck-up woman found the humility to apologize for her younger version, leading to a friendly family relationship these days. Fiona and Sela’s cousin had joined the brunch to possibly serve as a peacekeeper in case the meeting went awry.

“No, it can’t be. We left the condo just after 8:30,” Fletch responded, reaching into his pocket to check the time on his phone.

10:14 met his widening eyes. It made no sense. They lived in Apiary Tower, a high-rise, luxury condominium located across the street from Beekeepers Square. The Witzler Hotel sat only a few blocks down the road. Even going from one parking garage to another and walking into the hotel shouldn’t have taken more than ten or fifteen minutes.

“No, how is that possible? I lost time!”

A light giggle sounded.

“You did not lose time. Maybe your marbles,” Sienna suggested.

“Don’t get him started,” Sela warned her daughter, knowing fully well how these bickerings between the two went.

“Oh, my gawd! We…We must have been gassed in the car. Somebody pumped sleeping gas into your car, Mom!”

“Are you insane?” Sienna challenged, looking at her mother for help. Beside her, the giggling increased in frequency and volume.

“Fletch, we were not gassed. You fell asleep in the car before I even pulled out of the garage. You kept mumbling about being exhausted from your night. I did tell you that I had an errand to run before going to the hotel,” Fiona explained.

Fletcher tilted his head slightly. His mother could be correct. His uptight lover did turn into an insatiable hellcat once she let loose. Still, he preferred the gas theory.

“Sorry, but I’m curious. Who would want to gas you, Fletcher?” Kathleen inquired, stifling a laugh.

“Aliens. Knowing him,” Sienna declared, glaring at her cousin in disgust.

“The Canadians, of course.”

Anyone unfamiliar with the Wynwick family and their history might suspect Sienna of being correct: Her cousin was either paranoid or schizophrenic. Even before a bloody civil war broke out after the end of the First World War, the Wynwicks had business interests beyond Honey Hollow. After the enactment of a truce, several family branches moved away. Besides the local branch, this led to the Rattle Ridge Wynwicks, the Breezy Bay Sandberrys, the Ferro Rapids Renwicks, and the Canadian Wynwicks. The latter two still maintained bad blood, leading to poor, tenuous ties with those relatives in Honey Hollow.

“Fletch, there is nothing nefarious about Peabody’s visit,” Fiona responded, sighing.

“So, he just happens to cross an international border to say hi? I think not, Mother. Those Canadians always have ulterior motives,” Fletcher insisted. “Unless Peabody is finally ready to make amends and hand over the lodge to our side. He owes us.”

An eep and several groans sounded around the table. Through a series of deaths almost a century ago, the abandoned Wynwick Lodge on Wasp Lake, once the jewel of the family’s homes, had ended up in the hands of the hostile Canadians. Peabody, an elderly eccentric man, had inherited the property nearly thirty years ago. During that time, he nearly sold the lodge on a few occasions, which led to one of the most tragic incidents in the family's 21st-century history.

“That was a mechanical malfunction, honey. Nothing more,” Fiona stated, having forgotten just how many times this conversation had taken place over the last dozen years.

“Back me up, Si-Si. It was your theory,” Fletcher said, literally poking his cousin.

“I was six!” the haughty blonde defended. A mix of a sharp breath and a sniffle sounded from her side.

Twelve years ago, Peabody had strongly considered selling the lodge before wavering. Seeking to finally right a family wrong in his mind, Woodrew Wynwick, the accepted next leader of his generation, had convinced his older brother, Fenton, to fly up to Canada with him to see Peabody in the hope of saving the deal. Woodrew’s two teenage sons had convinced him to let them accompany him in his small personal plane. Viewed as Honey Hollow’s beloved golden boy and a future star, Wyatt had been eighteen. His younger brother, Whittaker, the one who pushed him to convince their father to take them, had been fourteen.

Tragedy struck deep above the northern forests. A malfunction caused the plane to lose power, causing it to crash into the isolated woods. Woodrew and Fenton, Sela and Fiona’s father, had died immediately upon impact. Wyatt had done what he’d always done, risked his life to save those he loved. With the plane hurtling toward the ground, he’d unbuckled his seatbelt to throw himself in front of his little brother. Whittaker survived, but he’d been severely injured and trapped in the plane for several days until rescuers found him. Lengthy hospital stays and multiple surgeries followed, leaving Whit with a mangled leg and a weak shoulder that still bothered him to this day.

While Woodrew and his son’s death rocked the family and the city, Sela and Fiona had to deal with losing their remaining parent. Their children also struggled with the loss of their grandfather, great-uncle, and the cousin whom they adored and idolized. Sienna grew distrustful of others, while Fletcher acted out more. The former had been the little girl who first made the accusation of foul play. Strangely, the words from a distraught six-year-old lingered, growing into rumors and eventually an urban legend.

“Don’t get snippy with me. You’re the one who popped that bitch in the nose six years ago,” Fletch reminded his cousin, referring to the nose-breaking incident that sparked additional family strife.

“Whatever. She deserved it,” Sienna proclaimed, ignoring her mother’s frown and the tongue cluck from beside her.

“So is the kooky old man finally handing over the lodge?” Fletch inquired. “Kinda risky coming here. His murderous niece and nephew might panic and off him to keep ownership.”

“Ancel and Agnes are not murderers,” Fiona chuckled.

“Let’s not be hasty, Fi,” Sela remarked. “One never knows with Agnes. She did make threats over what Sienna did to her daughter.”

“And there was that incident with Thora, Wyndam’s wife,” Katherine recalled.

Fletcher sat up straighter, thinking of his distant relative’s busty blonde wife. Thora oozed sexual charm. The fact that she and her sister-in-law frequently frolicked around in barely-there bikinis was one reason among many that he loved visiting the Sandberry branch’s resort.

“Peabody did not come here to start violence,” Fiona insisted.

“Then why did you bring Aunt Kathy instead of Slade? Your right-hand at the foundation makes more sense if this is a purely business brunch. Sienna sensed some shit might go down, that’s why she brought backup,” Fletcher said, gesturing around the table.

“I did not bring Rylee as backup. We’re here for brunch,” the younger, exasperated blonde declared. “Stop imagining that your life is a movie.”

“I know it’s not a film. Chance probably would’ve murdered me by now.” Although she didn’t want to, Sienna nodded along with his remark.

“No offense, but I don’t see how Rylee would be needed in your scenario, Fletch,” Katherine remarked.

“Rylee is–”

“This girl? Aunt Kathy, Rylee Kittle is the most dangerous person in these rooms right now,” Fletcher began, cutting off his cousin and eliciting another eep. “The girl is basically a human lie detector. Ask her to observe anyone, and she’ll spit out a detailed description of their motivations and sins in fifteen minutes. Every citizen of this city should be thankful that I’ve kept her heart pure from Sienna’s corruption. If not, she’d be like a ninja assassin, knocking off people in Her Worshipfulness’s quest for citywide domination.”

An amused, twinkling nose met any looks from the others around the table.

“Gawd, you’re such a copycat,” Sienna grumbled.

“Enough of your nonsense. Peabody flew to California for business. He’s only stopping here for the weekend on his return home. I doubt he’s got any nefarious intentions. It’s more possible that he’s delivering a message from his family, and possibly the Renwicks, about their concerns over the spring election. Dunkley has fully backed my plans to help our fellow citizens,” Fiona explained.

“Or they’re some of the people backing Rusk’s bid,” her son suggested.

Sienna shrugged, as it might be one of the least crazy things her cousin had said in a few years.

“Doubtful, but I do have someone looking into Rusk’s funding,” his mother hinted.

“Oh, we all know, Mother. Enlisting my best friend and wayward stepsister as your secret agents. I can help, you know. Maybe sweet-talk Aurora for dirt. She’s not a fan of her old man,” Fletcher noted. “Or…even better, I can seduce his way too sexy wife under the sheets. I bet she’s not getting–”

The palm hitting the tabletop nearly rattled Fletch. He threw up his hands in an apology.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her,” Fletcher insisted at Rylee’s reaction. He did mutter, “Not that there aren’t rumors out there about a cheating chef.”

“Do you honestly believe that you wouldn’t be seen coming a mile away?” Sienna challenged.

“Possibly. But they’d never see Ryls coming,” Fletcher responded. “We can send her undercover to Orrin Automotive as a prospective buyer. She can act indecisively and make several return trips. I’ll station myself across the street at Monty's Car Jamboree. You’d never fit in over there.”

“Rylee can’t haggle over purchasing a new vehicle,” Sienna pointed out.

“I know. That’s why Paige will accompany her.”

“Okay, go on.”

The golden blonde secret agent tilted her head slightly to the side to look at her best friend.

“No, no, no! You two behave even worse when in cahoots,” Fiona interrupted.

“So, your role will be to create a big scene, which shouldn’t be hard for you,” Fletcher continued, ignoring his mother. “Rylee will use the distraction to plug in the flash drive with Paige’s virus. That will give us access to the computer network and–”

“None of this is happening,” Sela declared. “Forget the idea.”

“I’m actually relieved that I didn’t bring Seth with,” Kathleen admitted. “I almost dragged him out of bed, but Fletch already influences him enough.”

“For fuck’s sake. We can’t help with the good stuff, but you drag us to this boring crap,” Fletcher complained, suddenly finding an agreeable ally in Sienna. “Let me at least ask Peabody about the lodge.”

“Only polite questions. Nothing salacious,” his mother warned.

“But those are the best parts,” Fletch whined. “Wait, why are the two of us here?”

“Sadly, you two are the likely leaders of your generation. Berry and Aidan are too sweet for foundation politics,” Fiona stated.

“Seth doesn’t take his studies seriously enough. And I’m aware that Stephanie…well, let’s not go there,” Kathleen remarked about her two children.

“Which leaves only Estelle and Jacqueline as viable alternatives among the local branches,” Sela finished.

“Really? I just assumed that Mom would push Paige as her successor someday. She’s not a Wynwick, but Nobles are connected,” Fletcher admitted. “Bert can be her bodyguard.”

“Paige is not running our family foundation,” Sienna declared.

“Well, you need empathy for the job, which you don’t have,” Fletcher shot back, until a new idea occurred to him. “Hold on a minute!”

“Oh, no,” Fiona muttered.

“This isn’t a regular meeting. It’s to propose an arranged marriage.”

“For the last time, I don’t want you!” Sienna screeched.

A playful expression passed over Rylee's face momentarily before she raised her shoulder, pumped out her chest, and mimicked running her hands through her hair. Sienna hissed at her to knock it off, as she knew that motion referred to Fletcher.

“Please. We all know you inherited that freaky incestuous craving from your parents,” Fletch responded, holding up a hand to stop Sela from speaking. “Fortunately for myself, I’m not the cousin getting hitched to you. No, our mothers want to marry you off to one of the Canadians, or even worse, to one of the Renwicks.”

“That is not why we’re here,” Sienna declared before glancing around the table. “It better not be!”

Rylee descended into a giggling fit.

“This is why I said it’s fine that he doesn’t go to the large dinner tonight,” Sela told her younger sister.

“Si, we’re not marrying you off for the sake of family peace,” Fiona informed her niece.

“No, it’s to create a power couple to run the foundation in the future,” Fletcher proclaimed, adding a spooky sound effect.

Rylee lowered her forehead to the table, seeking to muffle her laughter.

“This is your final warning,” Fiona growled. “Stop pestering your cousin with nonsense. Sit up straight and behave. Peabody should be down any minute.”

“Any minute? The old codger is late.”

“No, he’s meeting us at 10:30,” his mother explained.

“10:30? You made us leave two hours early to get here early, and we still got the worst of the three dining rooms?” Fletch questioned, waving his hand around the windowless room.

“No. Peabody requested this table.”

“He request—Oh. My. Gawd!” Fletcher exclaimed. "Ryls, quick! Check under the table. I’ll check the chairs for the bomb!”

Swinging her head up and around, the shy golden blonde saluted before attempting to duck under the table. Sienna stopped her before jumping up.

“There is no bomb under the table! Are you insane?” the ice queen shouted, causing gasps and the clanking of silverware around the connected dining rooms. "There is no bomb!"

“Wow. That’s precisely the scene I want you to make inside Rusk’s showroom. Bravo, Si-Si, bravo!” Fletcher praised, clapping. “Security is sure to rush over here. Now, we can have Peabody frisked.”

This time, Fiona and Sela buried their heads in their hands in embarrassment. Observing the scene, Katherine shrugged at the whispered comments from neighboring tables. Considering Stephanie’s antics, she could feel for her cousins.

“This got awkward. I think I’ll tinkle before Peabody arrives,” Fletcher announced, standing up. “Great reflexes, Ryls. You’re a dependable friend.”

Moving through the side dining room, Fletch dropped his phone down his side to start recording. Taking his time, he slowly turned to capture footage of everyone nearby before entering the main dining room to begin doing the same. While he did that, he surveyed the breakfast and brunch attendees, seeking out faces around his age.

Si-Si is so easy to rile up. I assume the scene gets sent to Nosy Nectar. I just need to figure out who in this room might be tipping Miss Nosy off. It might not matter, but every little thing can help. Tonight’s stakeout will hopefully confirm my suspect, or at least eliminate them from the list.

He paused briefly upon noticing Tyrell Tissle at a table. Checking for Cheyenne, Fletch realized with disappointment that the buxom Bumble Girl and her hot mom weren’t with him. It appeared to be a business brunch.

Disappointment turned into a double-take. Principal Manske sat at a corner table with a woman nearly young enough to be his daughter. Not that it came across as shocking or scandalous, but the forty-five-year-old school principal definitely wasn’t at a casual breakfast. No, the woman with long, creamy blonde hair sitting with him had clearly been fucked recently.

Holding his phone steady, Fletch made sure to capture the way that Mac’s hand caressed the arm of Romy Olin, the owner of Tranquility Touch massage parlor. Rumored to be a wild one in bed, the twenty-eight-year-old also happened to be a cousin of the Sloss sisters, two of the members of the notorious Honey-for-Hire high school escort service from back in the day.

If nobody else sends this in to Nosy Nectar, then I will. That’s bound to get a few tongues wagging around school. Somebody needs to make a list of Manske’s body count. That man has no shame. Whoa!

Fletch stopped upon spotting possibly the sexist lawyer in Honey Hollow, and that’s saying something. A true MILF if there was ever one, the teen ran his eyes over the tight blouse and pencil skirt that Grace Tuppence wore on a cold Saturday morning. At forty-four, she looked a decade younger with her long, golden-brown hair, blue eyes, medium-to-large breasts, and a firm ass.

Fuck! You can see where the genes came from in that family, Fletcher told himself. Teagan and Temple were solid-looking girls, a year and two years younger than him, but their older sister, Talia, screamed sex kitten. Possibly more sex-obsessed than his stepsister, Poppy, the twenty-two-year-old Talia held legendary bedroom status in Honey Hollow. And word had it that she’d spread that legend all around Frontier A&M University in Thirsty Gulch.

Checking her table, Fletch found a misty-eyed Imogen Pierce, the wife of the hotel's owner, speaking softly to her friend. Although he would've preferred to linger longer to check out Grace, the teen could tell the conversation was serious. Moving along, he halted briefly, realizing that Grace's presence might cause complications for his mother.

Does Kermit know about this meeting with Peabody? If not, I hope it wasn’t intended to be a secret. Thatcher Tuppence, Grace’s husband, is one of Kermit’s cronies at Wickworth Holdings.

Realizing that his mom wouldn’t be dumb enough to hold a secret meeting in the hotel dining room, Fletch let out a relieved breath of air. Heading toward the dining room’s main entrance from the lobby, the hyper teen spotted a familiar face. Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees just inside the lobby.

“Yes! My savior has arrived. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Fletcher exclaimed, reaching out to kiss his classmate’s hand. “Your sweetness is vital to my survival today. I can only praise whatever power led you to hear my cries for help!”

“It’s going to be one of those mornings, isn’t it?” Lacey responded, turning to look at Yumi.

Author's Note: The chapter ran very long, so I split it in half. Lacey's matchmaking brunch will be up next.