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lived inside a dollhouse? Yeah, she remembered now. A guy named Charley had obsessed over one of the miniature figures inside the house until he wound up becoming one himself. Only Bobbi didn’t want to be inside the replica of her favorite childhood toy. She didn’t even want to remember it.
    All those emotions she’d locked down tight began bucking against the vault, demanding release, and Bobbi’s pulse raced as tiny beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip. Darting a glance around the room, she identified the only visible source of chaos—an overflowing, disorganized shelf of DVDs and video games—and she made a beeline for it. Then Bobbi knelt on the floor and did the only thing that made her feel calm when life was out of control: she put things in order.
    Hmm. How should she sort the movies—alphabetically or by genre?
    “What’s she doin’?” Pru asked, as she crossed the small room and lowered onto the couch with a groan.
    Alphabetically, for sure, starting with All the President’s Men .
    “Don’t ask me,” Trey replied. “She’s a strange bird. A pretty bird, though.”
    Bobbi had a bird for Trey, and she showed it to him in the form of her middle finger.
    “Well, that wasn’t very nice,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Bo wanna cracker?”
    Ignoring him, she slid Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure next to Big Love, Season 1 .
    “Folks tend to get cranky when they don’t eat,” he continued. “Or when they’re tired. Or when their favorite lipstick gets discontinued. Is that what’s got you in knots, Bo Peep?” He used a mock lispy voice to tease, “Revlon quit makin’ your perfect pink?”
    She pointed a Blu-ray at him, but before she could tell Trey where to stick his hypothetical lipstick, lightning flashed, followed by deafening thunder, and the house went dark. Rain and hailstones mingled to pelt the roof in an oddly soothing percussion, and she took a deep breath, refusing to let Trey bait her.
    “Oh, sugar.” June sashayed in, holding a tall glass of something Bobbi couldn’t identify in the feeble sunlight filtering from the far window. “Now the stove’s out too. I was going to make a frozen pizza since we can’t use the grill.” She offered the glass to Bobbi. “Sangria? It’s my specialty.”
    “Yes!” Oh, hell yes. Bobbi brought the cool glass to her lips and tipped it back, savoring the tangy blend of fresh juice and sweet, magical booze. It was the best sangria she’d ever tasted—not too tart, not too syrupy. She’d forgotten June was a bartender, and now she understood the reason behind Shooters’ success. Well, that and because it was the only bar in three counties. But June would blow the competition away if she had any. “You’re the best sister-in-law I’ve ever had.”
    Giggling, June lit a couple of jar candles and brought them to the coffee table. “Then maybe you’ll let me borrow some of your clothes. I love your outfit.”
    “Oh, thanks. One of my dads designed it.” And since Daddy Bruce made all his samples in her size, she received a free, designer wardrobe each season. Sometimes, just once in a while, it didn’t suck to be her.
    “One of your dads ?” Trey asked, then instantly held both palms out and clarified, “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m only askin’!”
    Luke joined the party, kneeling at his wife’s feet. “Yeah, Bobbi was adopted by a gay couple. I met ’em when I was looking for her a few years back. They’re really good guys.”
    Bobbi grabbed one candle and scooted closer to the shelf to resume her work.
    “Huh,” Trey said. “Is the other dad a hairdresser?”
    She whipped her head around, red locks slapping her in the eyes. “Way to stereotype, Golden Boy.”
    “Jesus!—oops, sorry, Miss Pru—I mean, goddamn! Why do you try so hard to be offended all the time?”
    “Quit your blasphemin’, Trey Lewis!” Pru was a few inches too far to swat the blasphemer from the sofa, so she