“When I overheard Mom call you a bullshit artist, I cried my eyes out,” Chelsea said.
“She’s SO evil. You have no idea what I put up with.”
Jane had her smile set on autopilot. She’d learned years ago never to let on when she’s wounded.
“Sometimes the truth needs to be improved, Chelsea. That’s what your Uncle Dicky and I do for a living.”
Chelsea hung on her aunt’s every word.
“Weren’t you happier when you believed in unicorns?” Jane asked. “And isn’t it better to tell girls they look cute? And don’t the Hallmark movies we watch together make you glad there are orphans to rescue?”
“Mom said you and Uncle Dicky made up fake news about that big-deal election when I was in 4th grade.”
“Someday, Chelsea, history books will show patriots like Dick and me faced great personal risk to protect Americans from truths that would only confuse them.”
“You’re really pretty,” Chelsea replied.
