“I am. Might as well sit down,” she told Laurel. “They’ll nag your ears off otherwise. And since I’m told you didn’t get home until about thirty minutes ago, I’ve a mind to hear about it myself.”

As she gulped down juice, Laurel tracked her gaze from one face to another. “Do you all have some sort of radar?”

“Yes,” Parker said as she came in. “And if I’m getting called down before I’ve had my shower, this better be good.” In sweat shorts and a loose T-shirt, she went over to pour herself coffee. “I take it Del didn’t bolt the door and turn you away.”

“This is just bizarre.” Laurel took Parker’s coffee. “You know this is bizarre.”

“Traditions are traditions, even when they’re bizarre.” Cheerfully, Parker got another cup. “So, what happened?”

Laurel sat, shrugged. “I lost the bet.”

“Yay!” Emma scooted in beside her. “I lost it, too, but some things are more important than money.”

“Who won, Parker?” Mac wanted to know.

Parker sat, frowned into her coffee. “Malcolm Kavanaugh.”

“Kavanaugh?” Since it was there, Laurel took a piece of toast out of the rack. “How did he get in on it?”

“Somebody told him, and he cornered me at the ball game. I said no, bets were closed, but he’s pushy and persistent. Plus he said he’d put two hundred in as a late fee, and he’d pick July fifth.”

“You mean he nailed it on the button?” Mac demanded. “Lucky guy.”

“Yeah, lucky guy. I figured he didn’t have a chance anyway, as we were all going out, all going together. I didn’t expect Laurel to jump out of the van and make a run for it.”

“It was romantic.” Emma smiled. “All rushed and flushed and urgent. What happened when you got there?”

“He opened the door.”

“Spill,” Mac insisted and pointed a finger.

“You can’t be uncomfortable because he’s my brother. You and I have been friends nearly as long as Del’s been my brother. So it’s a wash.”

“Eat,” Mrs. Grady ordered and served the omelettes.

Laurel obediently took a bite. “I’d worked out the math.”

“What math?” Emma asked.

“About what days didn’t count in the given thirty. It’s complicated. It’s a formula, but I’d worked it out. Once he caught up with me, logistically, he agreed it made sense, but thought we should just forfeit the bet. So we did.”

“Weekends, right?” Mac shoveled in some eggs. “I thought about that. Weekends don’t count.”

“Exactly. And the first and last days don’t count. It gets more complicated, but that’s the gist. But in all fairness, since we didn’t set those terms, we went with the forfeit. Then we ...”