Page 34 of Touch of Class

Gillian seemed to realize the same thing and explained, “Izzy said you told her we were very different, but sometimes different is a good thing.”

“Did you grill my daughter about what I say about you at home?”

“Uh, did you know she had a daughter?” Sawyer stage-whispered.

“I did not.” Robin leaned forward as if she found this conversation infinitely entertaining.

“And I did not grill Izzy.” Gillian cut back in. “She made a comment. I asked a clarifying question, and she quoted you.”

Daphne pressed her lips together. That did track for her chatty daughter.

“And what about you?” Gillian pushed. “Were you here grilling my employees about me?”

“No,” Daphne defended. “I was talking to my new friends, who were trying to convince me you’re fun, but then you brought fruit snacks to trunk or treat.”

“Hey now.” Sawyer stepped in. “No one’s grilling anyone, and I like the idea of different being okay. Also, this isn’t my first rodeo or my first attempt to get G-Ball over here to lower her standards, so I came packing heat.”

“Honey,” Robin drawled. “This is a family event. You’re not supposed to advertise what you’re packing within earshot of the K-I-D-S.”

Sawyer burst out laughing and raised their hand for Robin to high-five. Then without attempting to explain further, they opened the trunk of the car to reveal two massive buckets full of sweet, sugary goodness.

“God, I love you!” Robin practically jumped them.

The longer the full-on body wrap of a kiss went on, the more Daphne couldn’t decide if she was turned on or needed to turn away. She chose the latter, and in doing so met Gillian’s eyes.

“They’re like this all the time,” Gillian said flatly. “Everyone in my life is like this all … the … time now.”

“Must be fun for you.”

“She loves it,” Robin called, “almost as much as I love Sawyer for playing sugar daddy in the most literal sense.”

“I also brought some potatoes,” Sawyer offered, holding up a ten-pound bag of russets. “See, G-D, I can make healthy choices, too.”

“Potatoes?” Daphne and Gillian asked in unison.

“It’s a thing,” Sawyer said amiably. “I saw it on the internet, and everyone knows if it’s on the internet, it must be true.”

“Sure, sure.” Gillian rolled her eyes. “Fruit snacks are weird, but uncooked potatoes totally cool.”

“Duh.” Robin grinned. “What do you think, Daphne?”

She shook her head, but she couldn’t help enjoying all the spectacularly strange turns this conversation had taken, or the way no one backed away from it. Even Gillian stayed in the mix. Maybe that’s why Daphne felt comfortable saying the unthinkable. “I’m going to utter this phrase for the first time ever. I agree with Gillian on this one.”

Gillian’s jaw dropped open. “Would someone like to try to knock me over with a feather?”

Daphne rolled her eyes more out of playfulness than frustration. “Don’t let it go to your head. Saying kids would rather eat fruit snacks than a raw root vegetable isn’t exactly a hot take.”

“Don’t take this moment from me.” Gillian grinned smugly. “Daphne Milner sided with me over the chaos twins. We reward progress over perfection on this team, and this definitely constitutes progress.”

Daphne opened her mouth to argue, though about what she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was habit or instinct, because the more she thought, the more she realized she actually shared the value of progress over perfection, even if she wasn’t ready to admit Gillian was right about something else.

The first hints of real darkness crept across the sky, with only a crescent moon and a smattering of stars bright enough to be seen amid the tinges of orange still lingering at the horizon. Still, Gillian was glad for the steady stream of trick-or-treaters to keep her mind off the chill in the air.

“At least it’s warm enough that we don’t have to worry about snow next week,” Tegan said, then, turning to Brooke, added, “not that an early November snow didn’t serve us well last year.”

“How so?” Daphne asked.

“You see”—Robin leaned close enough to feel conspiratorial—“what had happened was—”