h4Chapter 373: Sugar High/h4

    "You both look famished," Florence remarked as Susan and Athena stepped into the living room.

    The duo exchanged amused nces.

    iFamished of natural food, you mean,/i Athena mused, dropping into an armchair and sprawling ungracefully in it.

    After checking out theb Ewan had conditioned to please her, they had decided to sample the sugared foods the neighbors had brought. One bite had led to two, and two to three—the rest was history.

    Athena was sure she smelled of chocte and butter.

    "We are good, ma. Trust us," Susan spoke up for both of them, falling into the next armchair with her hands on her stomach.

    The remaining tter had been given to Rodney, who imed he couldn’t get more sugar into his system at that moment. Since he lived alone, it made sense for him to carry the rest home.

    iMaybe we shouldn’t have eaten so much,/i Athena thought, aware of Florence staring at them quizzically, and of old Mr. Thorne stepping into the living room with the kids.

    "What’s wrong with them?" he asked his wife, just as troubled as the children, who were now staring at their mother worriedly after offering greetings which went unanswered.

    "I am not sure. They look drunk, but I smell no drink on them."

    Athena chuckled, sitting upright. "We are drunk, quite alright—but on sugar. Those women could bake a mean cake, my God." She rubbed at her face, got to her feet, and moved tepidly toward the hallway.

    Susan roused herself as well. "I think I’ll take a bath and have a long sleep."

    Athena couldn’t agree more. She felt momentarily high even as she ruffled her children’s hair and greeted her grandfather, a slur in her voice.

    iThose women must have put a fair amount of alcohol or cannabis into their baked goods,/i she concluded as she entered her room and shut the door behind her.

    She strolled into the bathroom next, turned on the shower, and stood under it with her clothes still on. Five minutester, her mind was as clear and sharp as her eyes... well the best it could manage.

    iNever again,/i she mused after she was done bathing—this time without the clothes. She needed a long sleep. She thought, looking at her bed longingly.

    Yet, though feeling tired, she pushed herself out of the room and into the sitting room, needing to see her kids and wish them goodnight before sumbing to the pull of her bed, which she could feel even while standing in the second living room, watching the children y chess.

    "Are you okay, Athena? You look paler than usual..." Chelsea spoke from behind her, flinging an arm across her shoulder.

    "Yeah, just tired. Ate a lot of sugar, which I think was tainted with alcohol or something."

    Chelsea frowned. "And where did that take ce?"

    "At my newb," Athena replied groggily, aware of the sudden silence in the room. Without much care, she staggered to her children—surely there had been cannabis in the cookies, no other exnation would make sense—and crouched to their height.

    "Just wanted to say goodnight to my loves, and then I’m off for the night. Have a long day tomorrow." She dropped kisses on their foreheads, pulled their cheeks, and rose to her full height.

    On second thought, she fell to their height again. "What do you two do at school?"

    Kathleen and Nathaniel were shocked, to say the least. The details their mother had given as the reason for her state were sparse. Where had she gotten drugged cookies from? Who would dare drug their mother?

    "What do you mean, Mom?" Nate finally asked, the chess game forgotten.

    "At the school, your principal mentioned something about you two being passively in control of your ss. What does that mean?" Athena went on, gaining some rity from her sudden curiosity.

    "Oh..." Nate mused, looking at his sister before shrugging. "You. We just tell the offenders, especially the bully, that they’ll get the virus that’s spreading around town and won’t be treated because the doctor in charge is my—you—our mother. It did the trick, especially since you’re famous."

    Athena nodded sagely, as though she were raising wise counsel, and then got to her feet. She staggered, unsteady, and cursed out loud at the cookies.

    Old Mr. Thorne, unable to get to the kids in time, hissed in frustration and told Athena to get to bed. "Sleep it off. You’ll be fine tomorrow morning. Maybe then you can tell us where you got the cookies from."

    Athena frowned, as though he were a dimwit for not knowing the answer. "From the neighborrrssss, old man. To weeeee the new person in theeee neighborhood... you know, it’s... a... family... neighborhood."

    "Ah..." Chelsea sighed, just as the others in the room did,pletely seeing the root of the mishap.

    She held Athena by the arm gently and began to lead her out of the living room before thetter could start speaking gibberish.

    "Wait!" Athena screamed at the doorway, to Chelsea’s amusement—how she wished she could pause and capture this moment. Athena was rarely this free, this uninhibited, this drunk.

    To the surprise of her family members, who stopped their game to see what she would say next, Athena blurted, "I saw him at the restaurant with Cedric’s fiancée... what’s her name again..."

    "Victoria," old Mr. Thorne supplied, already knowing where this was headed. After all, hadn’t he been the one to send the vixen to Ewan?

    Athena frowned at him, as if he were the author of her confusion. "Do you know why they were meeting?"

    Old Mr. Thorne sighed, wondering what to say to his drunk granddaughter. Would she understand? "Yes."

    Her eyes widened, then thinned in usation. "Anddd..." she dragged, holding onto Chelsea.

    "She wanted to start working, but not at my establishment. She wanted a space different from her fiancé’s, so I suggested Ewan’s."

    "But she’s dumb," Athena muttered softly.

    "We’ll see about that. I told Ewan to put her through the normal screening process."

    "So why were they having lunch?" Athena pressed.

    Old Mr. Thorne frowned. That was the part he didn’t understand—the dining. "I don’t know. Do you want me to ask Ewan?"

    "No!" The scream echoed.

    Chelsea had no choice but to drag her friend away, saving her from further embarrassment in front of her children—who, judging by their expressions, looked more amused now than concerned.