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Chapter Twenty Eight

"Geneva sweetie!" Rita greeted heartily, "Been so worried, you've been so distant. I almost thought you'd make me go this week without hearing from you."

"Yeah, about that mum." Geneva's inside churned with the thought of what she was about to say.

"I don't know why I let your father talk me into refraining from calling you too often." Rita continued in a loud voice as the background on her side was noisy. "I'm in a saloon having my hair done, sweetie, that explains the noise! Just pointing that out before you ask."

"Wait, mum, I––"

"Hang on." Geneva could hear her mother's muffled voice whisper yelling at someone, "Not the red wig Rochelle, red always makes you look like a rag doll. No offense."

"None taken. Not when we both know you look like an ill sewer rat in it." A voice, probably Rochelle's, hit back earning barks of laughter and snickers from a few women in the saloon and the two in question.

Geneva was beside herself with worry and didn't have time for her mother and he
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