The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay) Read Online Free PDF

purple one better. It has feathers and lace.”
    “Did you pick up my dark-wash jeans from the dry cleaner?” Makayla asked as she, too, entered the kitchen. “I’m going to need them for this weekend. Mom’s taking me to the movies and out to dinner and you know that means we’ll be going somewhere nice.”
    “I did. They’re in your room.”
    Which you would know if you’d bothered to go look. But she didn’t say that. Nor did she mention she thought it was ridiculous that a fifteen-year-old was allowed to send her jeans to the dry cleaner. Couldn’t she wash them with the rest of her clothes? But Makayla had deemed it critical and Andrew had agreed. Gabby felt that if she was going to have to die on some hill when it came to her stepdaughter, it wasn’t going to be the one about dry cleaning.
    Makayla sat on one of the stools by the island. “Mom said she’s going to take me to her stylist and get my hair cut. Maybe I’ll get bangs. There’s enough time to grow them out before school starts. You know, if I don’t like them.”
    As she spoke, she stretched her long arms out across the granite countertop. Her hands were laced together as she stretched. Kenzie watched closely and Gabby knew that in the morning, she would see the same pose at breakfast. Because there was nothing the twins liked more than to imitate their older sister.
    “We might do some school shopping. She can get me in to see all the fall clothes that aren’t out yet. We went through the look books already and I chose some things.”
    Candace was a buyer for an upscale department store and had access to a lot of things, including styles and brands not yet available for sale to the public. Gabby told herself it was nice that Makayla got to feel special with her mom. That was how it was supposed to be. Most of time she nearly believed herself, as well.
    Makayla raised one shoulder dramatically. “It’s because I have an eye for trends.”
    “You do.”
    Makayla eyed Gabby’s baggy, knee-length shorts and oversize T-shirt, the blue one with a stain on the front and a small but growing hole near the hem.
    “You want me to talk to Dad about giving you a make-over?”
    “Thanks. Sweet, but no.”
    She told herself that she didn’t have it so bad. Makayla was a pretty good kid. She had her moods, but most of those were either hormone or mother-induced. She loved her baby sisters and looked out for them.
    What made things difficult was the nagging sense that Makayla wasn’t treated like a member of the family. Her place was more revered guest, with everyone circling around her illustrious orbit. Like the dry cleaning. Seriously? For jeans? Or that Makayla didn’t mind looking after the twins if Gabby needed her to. But only for an hour. Never for an afternoon or evening. And even the few minutes of watching was always a favor—never something Gabby could depend on. Giving Makayla orders wasn’t allowed.
    Second-wife syndrome, Gabby told herself firmly. Every now and then she got a twinge from having to deal with Andrew’s past. The most he’d had to suffer through was an old boyfriend flirting with her at her ten-year high school reunion. And that was hardly the same thing.
    “Mommy, I think Jasmine’s gonna throw up.”
    Kennedy shouted the announcement from somewhere upstairs. Makayla and Kenzie took off running. Gabby paused long enough to grab a few paper towels. As she headed for the stairs she wondered if it was wrong to hope Boomer got there first and took care of things for her. The big guy could always been counted on to clean up messes.
    By five o’clock, the household was in that delicate transition from chaos to calm. At least that was what Gabby told herself. Dinner was in the oven, Makayla was packing for her weekend and the twins were in their playroom, deciding on what to do that evening with Cecelia.
    “Dress up,” Kennedy said firmly, a small green hat perched on her head. “And Legos.”
    “Legos for sure,”