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it and Mom knows it and everybody but you gets it.”
    â€œWanting the lady in question to spend the night rather than showing her the door once we’ve stopped sweating isn’t a character flaw, Rake, though it’s telling that you think it is.”
    The twins glared at each other, nothing new, but remained seated, which was. Only a matter of enormous concern would get—and keep—the men in the same room at the same time outside of their birthday, or house arrest. My brother is a cavalier man-slut , Blake thought with dismay, and he thinks I’m a closed-off tight-ass with the heart of an Anglophile. And we’re both right. Because Rake is terrible and I’m no better.
    He pulled in a long, steadying breath. “This isn’t helping our mother.”
    â€œNo.” Rake was suddenly very interested in stacking all the Splenda packets on top of one another. He was trying to take care, but the Tower O’Splenda was wobbling. “It’s not. So. What, then?”
    Relieved at their temporary détente, Blake leaned forward. “I propose we join forces. Hear me out!” he added at Rake’s shiver of terror/revulsion. “You know she has a harder time dealing with us when we’re united.”
    â€œTruth. It’s like the Roadrunner teaming up with Wile E. Coyote. You never see it coming, and when it does come it’s creepy and weird and everyone’s taken off guard.”
    â€œYes. ‘Creepy and weird’ is an outstanding way to describe the situation. Let’s initiate a conference call and let her know we’re going to work together to help her through this mess, no matter how complex.”
    Rake was nodding slowly. “Yep, yep. That would definitely disarm her into allowing us to interfere. Help! I meant help.”
    Blake nodded. “So: we will reach out at a time early enough that she will likely be in her room getting ready, but not so late she has left to deal with the judgmental farmers brigade. Eight A.M. ought to do it. Can you be at my place in time?”
    â€œSure.”
    While pleased by his brother’s unexpected attack of sense and cooperation, Blake paused and, because he was a masochist, asked, “So when would that be, exactly?”
    A shrug of leather-clad shoulders. “Fifteen minutes early to work out the script. Say quarter to ten?”
    â€œShe is trapped in the Central Time Zone, Rake.”
    â€œRight. Center means more toward the middle. Noon is the middle. So she’s two hours closer to the middle: ten A.M. ”
    â€œI don’t understand.” As Rake opened his mouth to explain more of his demented logic, Blake continued. “You have a high school diploma. You have a college degree. You’re a polymath.”
    â€œNot anymore. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and it cleared right up.”
    â€œVery funny.” Argh, his jaw hurt. Forcing words past clenched teeth was harder than it looked. “You are not a complete imbecile.”
    â€œAwwww. So sweet!”
    â€œHow do you not understand how time zones work?”
    â€œChrist, Blake, will you back off my dumbassery for once?”
    â€œBut it’s so fascinating. Like studying a new mold spore no one knew existed.”
    â€œAw, jeez.” Rake had forgotten his bruise and rubbed his eyes with a wince. “Just tell me what time to be at your place.”
    â€œFive forty-five.” To be certain, he added, “In the morning. Tomorrow morning. Morning is the opposite of evening. Not today. Tomorrow.”
    â€œWhat?” Rake straightened and the motorcycle jacket was just a hair too big, so he looked like a horrified turtle popping out of its shell. “But I’ll have just gone to bed!”
    â€œSo assist me with our mother, and then go to bed!” Blake snapped. “It’s not rocket science!”
    â€œYou’re just saying that because you studied rocket science!