Page 57 of The Way We Were Always Meant To Be

But don’t worry, the idea of dealing with Mrs. Lowen will get that to shrink real quick.

ADELINE

“If it ain’t makin’ your tongue burn, it ain’t hot enough.”

I’m in the middle of a coughing fit because Agnes failed to tell me her honey chicken sliders had a little kick.

And I can handle some kick in my food.

However, this woman decided to throw a whole bottle of hot sauce or something in them because I’m in the middle of dying.

Pickles tugs at his leash, impatient and wanting to continue walking through one of our three summer festivals.

However, I’m about ten seconds from keeling over.

“Here” —my sister, Everly, shoves her snow cone in my direction, and I happily take it—“suck on this.”

“Oh, Adeline,” Agnes scolds me lightly with a roll of her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Mrs. Campbell,” my sister chimes in. “I can smell them from here.”

Agnes sniffles, clearly congested, as she attempts to smell the air. “I don’t smell anythin’.”

Lord.

I run my tongue over Everly’s cherry snow cone to cool my mouth down, and it’s working.

However, I don’t stop because I’m going to make sure I can feel my tongue and be able to still taste something before I’m done.

Everly wraps her arm underneath mine. “Thanks for the sample, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Well, you didn’t take one.”

“And I ain’t gonna. My sister is about to die because you”—she stops herself because the next words out of her lips are probably going to be rude, so she replaces them—“have outdone yourself this time.”

Agnes is too old and has gone toe-to-toe with everyone here enough to know that’s not what my sister was going to say. Because her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t call Everly out.