Murder Is a Piece of Cake (10 page)

Chapter 16

Friday, October 26

St. Clifton’s Church was crammed with Molly’s mourners. Josie didn’t know if people
were there to gawk or grieve, but the crowd—and the suburban Gothic chapel’s gloomy
recesses—helped her slip into the funeral unnoticed.

Josie and Alyce squeezed into a back pew behind a stone pillar. Josie sat next to
a pair of gossips. Both women were somewhere south of fifty. One had fluffy brown
hair and an orange flowered dress like a slipcover. Her thin, angular friend was encased
in black as if mourning her lost youth. Josie thought the woman’s dark hair streaked
with steel was striking. She mentally named them Mrs. Flower and Mrs. Steel.

“I never thought Molly would get herself murdered,” Mrs. Steel said. There was disapproval
in her voice.

“She didn’t ‘get herself murdered,’” Mrs. Flower said. “She was killed by that doctor’s
witchy mother.”

“I might prefer death to
that
mother-in-law,” Mrs. Steel drawled.

No, you wouldn’t, Josie thought. Not if you knew Ted.

Mrs. Flower simpered and said, “Stop! You’re terrible.”

Josie figured fluffy Mrs. Flower considered herself a “nice” person but reveled in
Mrs. Steel’s snarky comments. “Molly was a good sales assistant,” Mrs. Flower said
piously. “So helpful when my Gracie married.”

The angelic-looking blonde on their left glared at the pair, then slipped her BlackBerry
out of her purse and began texting. Josie stared straight ahead and pretended to study
the stained glass.

“Wasn’t she going to marry someone else before that vet?” Mrs. Steel asked.

“Yes, what was his name? George,” Mrs. Flower said. “George somebody. Had a beard.
He sold carpets.”

“Until he took off out west somewhere,” Mrs. Steel said. “For months it was ‘George
this’ and ‘George that,’ and then suddenly she was marrying that vet.”

“The vet was better looking,” Mrs. Flower said. “Molly was pretty, too.”

“I guess, if you like ruffles,” Mrs. Steel said. “Did you go to her visitation last
night?”

“Yes. So sad,” Mrs. Flower said.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress she’s buried in.”

Mrs. Flower snickered.

“Here comes the sister, Emily,” Mrs. Steel said. “She had to work to find a black
suit that ugly. Her husband, Brad, is an accountant and looks it. A no account-ant,
if you ask me. I heard he invested her inheritance and lost every penny.”

“That can’t be true,” Mrs. Flower said. “They have that big house in Wood Winds and
they both drive expensive cars.”

“Big dreams, big house, big debts,” Mrs. Steel said. “Just because they have expensive
things doesn’t mean they can afford them.”

“You’re awful,” Mrs. Flower said. She giggled, then smoothed her face into a solemn
expression. “Emily is sitting next to that older woman with the cane. That’s Aunt
Martha, the girls’ only close relative after their parents died. She must be eighty.
Hasn’t stopped crying since she sat down. You’d never guess Emily and Molly were sisters.
Molly loved antiques and pretty things. Emily likes everything new, plain, and practical.
Almost like a man.”

“Look how short her hair is,” Mrs. Steel said. “Do you think Emily is gay?”

“She’s married,” Mrs. Flower said.

They watched the pallbearers roll Molly’s white casket up the aisle.

“So? Could be a cover if her husband’s gay,” Mrs. Steel said. “I’ve heard in some
old St. Louis families the rich father showers money on a gay man to marry his lesbian
daughter. Then the couple live as they please as long as they don’t cause a scandal.”

“I don’t think being gay is a scandal anymore,” Mrs. Flower said. “And their family
money isn’t old.”

At that, a woman in a navy suit swiveled around and hissed, “Shut up, both of you!
Have the decency not to run down that poor girl at her own funeral.”

Mrs. Steel paled. Mrs. Flower’s cheeks turned red as roses. Both were silent for the
rest of the ceremony. That was more respectful, but not as informative, Josie decided.

She learned nothing from the eulogies except that Molly had been a good friend, a
sweet person, and a dedicated employee of Denise’s Dreams. A young woman with a shiny
cap of brown hair said, “Molly helped me realize my dream wedding, but she never got
to have hers.” She left the podium, weeping.

Her sister Emily said simply, “I loved my sister. Her life was short and ended tragically,
but she brought happiness to others. Rest in peace, dear Molly.”

The choir sang “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” as Molly’s coffin was rolled to the
hearse. The funeral service was over.

Josie was surprised to see a receiving line after the ceremony. A frail old woman
sat on a folding chair, her cane beside her. Her liver-spotted hands shook and her
wrinkled face was wet with tears. Aunt Martha. Emily and her husband stood side by
side. Brad the accountant had a pleasant face and a comfortable paunch. Emily was
nearly a head taller than her husband.

“Thank you for coming, Alyce,” Emily said. “And for dropping by that chicken and artichoke
casserole yesterday. That was so kind.”

“That’s what neighbors do,” Alyce said. “I’m so sorry about Molly. Would you like
to come to my home tomorrow for lunch at noon? A change of scene might help. It will
just be me and my friend Joanie.” Alyce presented Josie by a name close enough to
her own that she’d answer to it.

“Joanie was a customer at your sister’s shop,” Alyce said.

“It would be nice to get out of the house,” Emily said.

“There’s a long line behind us. I don’t want to monopolize you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Josie and Alyce patted Aunt Martha’s hand and quick-marched out the church door.

“Nice work,” Josie said on the way to their cars. “I was hoping to get a chance to
talk to Molly’s sister. I want to ask Emily about something I heard those two awful
women next to me say.”

“Was there anything useful in that toxic spew?” Alyce asked.

“One mentioned that Molly had a fiancé before Ted named George. I didn’t get a last
name, but George had a beard and he moved west. I wondered if he was a real fiancé,
or if Molly was stalking him, too. He might be the killer.”

“He’d have to be in town to shoot Molly,” Alyce said.

“Maybe she stalked other men and one of them wanted rid of her. Emily might know.
I have less than a month to find out who killed Molly,” Josie said. “I wanted to talk
to her coworkers at Denise’s Dreams.”

“We saw the owner at the funeral,” Alyce said. “Better check if the store is open
today.”

Josie put her cell on speakerphone and called the shop. They heard this recording:
“We are closed today due to a death in the family. We’ll open tomorrow at ten o’clock
for all your bridal needs.”

“That was sweet to say Molly was a member of the family,” Josie said, “but it delays
me another day. Do you have to get home, or do you want to mystery-shop wedding cakes
with me? Harry wants me to shop two branches of the Cakes by Cookie chain.”

“If we get to eat samples, I’m in,” Alyce said. “But you can’t get a cake-tasting
appointment at the last minute.”

“I have to ask,” Josie said. “It’s part of the customer service evaluation. Let’s
try the store on Big Bend, near me.”

Josie put her phone on speaker again. “Cakes by Cookie,” said a cheery voice. “This
is Shirley. How may I help you?”

“I’d like an appointment for a wedding cake tasting,” Josie said.

“Congratulations,” Shirley said. “When do you want to come in?”

“This afternoon,” Josie said.

“You’re joking, right?” All the sweetness vanished from Shirley’s voice. “You’re supposed
to make tasting appointments two to three weeks in advance.”

Josie could feel the frosting on her phone, and it wasn’t butter cream. “I’m sorry,”
she said.

“You’re lucky we happen to have a cancellation,” Shirley said. “Get here in half an
hour and you can have a tasting. How many in your party?”

“Two,” Josie said. “Me and my matron of honor. How many other couples will be at this
tasting?”

“None. I was going to throw away the cake samples when that bride cancelled. But you
can try them if you get here. I don’t have all day to gab on the phone.” Shirley hung
up.

“Well, that sounds appetizing,” Alyce said. “We get to eat the cakes she was going
to throw away.”

“I think Shirley flunked the ‘dealing with unexpected requests’ test,” Josie said.
“I have my mystery-shopping paperwork in my car. You want to go with me?”

“As Shirley would say, let’s not stand around gabbing,” Alyce said. “I have a nanny
until two.”

Traffic was light on the way to the cake tasting. It was a good time to talk. “Are
you working until your wedding?” Alyce asked.

“This is my last assignment,” Josie said. “Ted still has six months on his lease.
Amelia and I will live at his house until we find our new home. I’m starting to move
a few things into Ted’s place and getting my flat ready so Mom can rent it. Now I’m
wondering if I should hold off moving my things until I know if Ted and I are getting
married.”

“Of course you are, Josie,” Alyce said. “You’ll find Molly’s killer, and you and Ted
will live happily ever after.”

“That hasn’t been the story of my life so far,” Josie said.

“It will work out,” Alyce said firmly. “What else needs to be done for your wedding?”

“Not much,” Josie said. “The invitations were mailed, the flowers are ordered, the
reception and the ceremony are planned down to the last detail, and the contracts
are signed. Ted went with me for our wedding cake tasting.”

“What kind did you get?” Alyce asked.

“Three tiers with three flavors: vanilla, chocolate, and lemon, iced with white butter
cream. We’re using my mother’s wedding cake topper. Amelia says it’s vintage.”

“Maybe she can use it for her wedding,” Alyce said.

“We still have to shop for Amelia’s dress and I need high heels. You’ve chosen a gorgeous
red dress. My gown is ready except for the final fitting.”

The polka-dot
CAKES BY COOKIE
sign appeared over the next hill. The Big Bend location was sandwiched between a
bridal boutique and a jewelry shop.

“Good location,” Alyce said. “What a cute junior bridesmaid’s dress.”

“Maybe I can bring Amelia here to look at it,” Josie said. “Mm. No doubt there’s a
bakery here. The air smells like sugar.”

“Let’s see how sweet Shirley is in person,” Alyce said.

Shirley turned out to be surprisingly helpful after her rude comments on the phone.
She reminded Josie of a small bird. Shirley bobbed her dark head and seemed to hop
as she herded them to a white table with plates, silver forks, and samples of cakes
on a white china platter. The table was covered with a snowy cloth and a glass bowl
of orange and red gerbera daisies. A white leather album held numbered photos of wedding
cakes.

“Number 128 is a traditional three-tiered wedding cake,” Shirley said. It was decorated
with swags of white icing and roses. Shirley served Josie and Alyce slices of iced
vanilla cake the size of business cards.

“That butter cream icing tastes rich,” Alyce said.

“It is,” Shirley said. “That cake is iced with six pounds of sugar, six pounds of
sweet cream butter, vanilla, and a little shortening to cut the richness.”

“Delicious,” Josie said.

“But we can take a traditional cake and build on it,” Shirley said. “This cake has
three bridges to three other cakes.”

“Interesting,” Josie said. She thought the ornate cake looked like a model for a Victorian
bandstand.

“Number 129 has a fountain in the middle,” Shirley said.

“Won’t that get the icing wet?” Josie asked.

“Of course not. It’s peaceful.”

Peaceful? It was a cake, not a park.

“Number 130 is our most exciting wedding cake,” Shirley said. “It’s a six-bridge fountain
cake.”

Josie counted fourteen different cakes joined by bridges, overpasses, ramps, plastic
pillars and Corinthian columns with a fountain in the center.

“Looks like Caesars Palace in Las Vegas,” she said.

Alyce kicked her under the table.

“In a good way,” Josie added.

Shirley cocked her head like a puzzled sparrow, then said, “That cake serves five
hundred people. We can use almost any fruit or custard filling in our wedding cakes.
This is a sample of our apricot filling. And here’s a slice with chocolate pudding.”

Josie scarfed up both. “I like the chocolate,” she said.

“It’s very popular,” Shirley said. “We can also personalize your cake. Isn’t this
adorable?”

She showed Josie a wedding cake topped with two troll dolls.

“Was that for a computer programmer’s wedding?” Josie asked.

“How did you guess?” Shirley said.

“Perhaps you’d like a more elegant cake. Number 131 is a European style white mousse
frosted with white chocolate.”

“What are those icing decorations that look like big sculpted flower petals?” Josie
asked.

“Fans,” Shirley said. “You can get them in dark chocolate, too. We also have the yin
and yang cake, frosted in dark and white chocolate.”

“Very New Age,” Josie said.

All the samples had disappeared. Shirley recited the rest of the required information
about delivery charges, down payments, and last-minute changes.

“Well,” she said, “what do you think?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” Josie said.

Shirley handed her enough paperwork to buy a house. “You can go over this with your
sweetie and then call me. I’ve helped hundreds of brides. The month before your wedding
can be murder, but you’ll forget that on your special day.”

“Promise?” Josie said.

Chapter 17

Saturday, October 27

Molly Deaver, Ted’s stalker bride, sold wisps of silk illusion to starry-eyed women
at Denise’s Dreams. Now Josie had to return to the shop to find out who really killed
her.

Exhausted after a day of eating cake samples, she crawled into bed at nine thirty.
Worries attacked like swarms of mosquitoes. These weren’t bridal jitters—Josie wasn’t
even sure she’d have a wedding. She and Ted couldn’t start their new life when Lenore’s
was ending.

What is the proper wedding etiquette when your fiancé’s mother faces murder one? Josie
wondered. Should we wait to marry until after her trial?

Josie had heard about the “
CSI
effect”: Juries demanded forensic evidence to convict. Lenore’s case had a truckload,
from the murder weapon to the victim’s blood on her Chanel suit. Her actions could
be twisted into guilt. The police said she was a fleeing felon. Lenore said she was
running home to her injured husband. The jury pool was polluted by the tape of Lenore
cackling over her pearl-handled pistol. She’d insulted the whole city and demanded
a “real” lawyer from Boca.

Josie thought Lenore could wind up behind bars.

Then what? Will Ted and I marry later? Josie had a horrible vision of herself in her
wedding gown and Ted in his tux, waiting in line for the prison metal detectors. Each
year, we could alternate holidays, she thought: Christmas at my mother’s house, Thanksgiving
at the pen with Ted’s mom.

If this wedding is canceled, who’ll pick up the bills? I signed the contracts for
the hall, the wedding cake, the caterer, the band, even the Jewel Box.

What if Ted doesn’t want to marry until he finds Molly’s real killer? He’ll blame
himself because he didn’t recognize his fluffy client was a predator.

He might not marry me at all, she thought. I’m a thirty-one-year-old single mom with
a sulky tween daughter. His mother thinks Ted is too good for me. I think he’s too
good to be true.

By 2:10, she was tired of trying to sleep. She got dressed and made a pot of coffee.

Josie forced herself to remember the details when she’d discovered Molly’s body: She
saw the dark red wound in Molly’s temple. The blood was clogged around it and the
thicker stuff was still wet and yucky. Her mind veered away, and now Josie remembered
something important:

Molly’s window was down.

It had been a warm fall night. But if Molly was frightened, she would have rolled
up her window and tried to drive away. And the gun-toting Lenore scared Molly. She
would have run if she’d seen her.

That meant Molly was killed by someone she knew.

Someone else wanted rid of the relentless stalker bride, Josie decided. I have to
find him. I will solve this murder and marry Ted. We’ll honeymoon on St. John. Then
Amelia and I will move into his house until we buy our own home.

She felt better making those resolutions. She checked the kitchen clock: 2:35. Josie
poured herself more black coffee. She was going ahead with her life. She’d clean out
her closet, starting at the top.

She pulled out Amelia’s baby album, sat on her rumpled bed, and thumbed through the
photos.

There was a red-faced newborn Amelia in a pink knit cap. Amelia had been born with
silky dark hair like her father’s. Josie had been wildly in love with Nate. She’d
been engaged to another college student, a man she could barely picture now. Josie
tossed her secure life when she threw away her engagement ring and started dating
the high-flying pilot.

Their daughter had had a beautiful beginning. Josie didn’t need photos to remember
that night: She’d lit a zillion candles. They’d talked and drank champagne until Nate
carried her to bed. The next morning, Josie found empty bottles, burned-out candles—and
the unopened condom box.

Nearly four months later, Josie was pregnant, frightened, and delighted. She and Nate
would marry. He made good money as a pilot—Nate always had cash. They’d buy a house
and she’d finish college.

She never got a chance to tell him she was pregnant. He was arrested in Canada with
a planeload of drugs. Now his spendthrift ways made sense: Nate was dealing drugs.

Josie wanted nothing to do with him. Nate went to a Canadian prison for a decade and
Josie sentenced herself to life without romance.

Jane was furious. She wanted Josie to give up the baby for adoption. Josie refused
and dropped out of college to become a mystery shopper.

Josie brought Amelia to meet her grandmother. She’d been terrified when she rang Jane’s
bell. Jane fell in love with her new granddaughter.

Josie turned the album page. Jane had snapped the next photo of Josie cradling a three-week-old
Amelia. Josie still had her baby-belly fat and dark circles under her eyes. Her daughter’s
color had gone from red to pink and Josie admired her tiny starfish fingers.

Jane insisted that Josie and Amelia move into the downstairs flat. Josie’s mystery-shopping
barely covered the bills, even with Jane’s artificially low rent and free babysitting.
But she had one luxury: more time with her daughter. Josie smiled at the photo of
a laughing seven-month-old Amelia crawling toward the camera. She’d had to get down
on the floor for that photo.

The photos comforted Josie. She knew she’d been tired and worried when Amelia was
a baby, but now she remembered that time as happy. She’d survived. She would get through
this crisis. Josie packed the album, then sorted her clothes into piles: things she’d
wear now, clothes she’d donate, clothes she’d store in the basement until she and
Ted found their home.

She carried a box down to the basement, threw in a load of laundry, and went back
upstairs for more.

By seven o’clock, Josie had stashed the last box in the basement and finished three
loads of laundry. She carried the donated clothes out to her car, then stretched in
the sun. Amazingly, she didn’t feel tired.

She checked on Amelia. Her daughter was cocooned in her purple spread with her cat,
Harry. Amelia would sleep till at least nine on a Saturday morning. Josie could drop
off the clothes at the church donation box and be back in fifteen minutes. She pinned
a note to Amelia’s bathroom door in case she woke up.

Josie dropped the clothes off and was slammed by a sudden wave of weariness after
being up most of the night. She went home, set her alarm, and napped. She heard Amelia
fixing herself breakfast and checked her bedside clock: 9:04. Amelia was spending
the day at her friend Emma’s house. She could trust Emma’s mother to watch the girls
but not smother them.

Amelia sat in sullen silence on the drive to Emma’s.

“Don’t forget, we shop for your bridesmaid’s dress this afternoon,” Josie said.

“Grmpf,” Amelia said. She slammed the car door, then smiled and waved at Emma.

Josie drove to Denise’s Dreams in Rock Road Village, passing Ted’s clinic on the way.
Josie was relieved that the lot was almost filled with cars—and there were no TV trucks.

Good, she thought. But something niggled at her brain. Something that might help Lenore.
Something about . . . She turned onto the shop’s street and the helpful thought vanished.

Josie hoped Denise’s Dreams could end her wedding nightmare. The picket fence and
ruffles looked solid and comforting. She was greeted at the door by a blonde who looked
so much like Molly, they could have been sisters. The hothouse flower smell hit her
in the face. It reminded Josie of funerals, not weddings.

“Hi, I’m Rita,” the blonde said. “May I help you?”

“I’m getting married,” Josie said, “and I need a tiara.” She braced herself for the
bridal gush.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” Rita said. “All our tiaras are one of a kind,
handcrafted by Denise herself. What’s your price range?”

“No limit,” Josie said. “My mom’s buying and she says I can pick any style I want.”

“Super,” Rita said. Her pale skin flushed with excitement—or maybe greed. “Have a
seat. Would you like coffee?”

“Yes,” Josie said, hoping it would jump-start a conversation. “Black, please.”

Rita steered Josie to the room furnished like a Victorian parlor and Josie settled
onto a tufted blue velvet armchair. Rita set two flowered cups of coffee and a plate
of sugar cookies on the marble-topped table in front of Josie. Then she carried a
stack of velvet boxes from a back room and sat gracefully in the chair next to Josie.

“So many celebrities are wearing tiaras at their weddings now,” Rita said, opening
a red velvet box. “Carrie Underwood had an amazing tiara with real diamonds—forty
carats. This one is similar. Those aren’t real diamonds, but they have a wonderful
sparkle.”

Josie tried not to wince. “Nice,” she said, “but I’d like something simpler.”

Rita reached for a gray velvet box. “This tiara is like the one Jennifer Lopez wore
when she married Marc Anthony.”

“Didn’t they split?” Josie asked.

“Well, yes.” That box disappeared. “We have so many types of tiaras: silver, gold,
rhinestones, Swarovski crystal, and pearls.”

“Pearls,” Josie said.

“A warm look,” Rita said. She showed Josie a blue velvet tray with two pearl tiaras.

“I like that one with the three pink pearl roses,” Josie said.

Rita smiled her approval. “Pink and cranberry pearls with green baroque pearl leaves,”
she said. “The tiara is twelve hundred dollars and sure to become a family heirloom.”

Josie examined the second tiara, an elegant band of pink pearls.

“Pretty and affordable,” Rita said.

“It’s difficult to choose,” Josie said.

“Don’t wait too long,” Rita said. “These are one of a kind.”

“Denise would make a fortune selling these online,” Josie said.

Rita laughed. “That’s what I tell her, but Denise can barely manage e-mail. She believes
her designs should be sold personally. I don’t want to pressure you, but your favorites
won’t last long.”

“Maybe I need to come back with my friend Alyce,” Josie said.

“That’s how I made my major choices,” Rita said. “With my best friend, Molly.”

Josie noted that “made”—past tense. “Molly,” she said. “Wasn’t she the poor bride
who was tricked by that awful doctor?” Forgive me, Ted, she thought.

“He’s not a real doctor,” Rita said, her eyes narrowing. “He’s a vet. He treats animals
because he’s not fit for people. His horrible mother shot poor Molly. I saw her, you
know.”

“Molly?” Josie asked.

“The killer,” Rita said. “It was before—” She stopped. “Before it happened. I was
at the Blue Rose Tearoom with a bridal shower, and she was flaunting her gun, bold
as brass. And then she—”

Crystal tears started in Rita’s eyes.

Josie pulled a tissue from her purse. “It must be hard to lose a good friend,” she
said, her voice soft with sympathy. “I don’t know what I’d do without Alyce.”

Rita wept openly, the tiaras abandoned on the table. “You understand,” she said. “Some
people thought Molly and I were unlikely friends. Molly inherited money and didn’t
have to work. But I do.”

“Just like Alyce,” Josie said. “She’s a rich lawyer’s wife. I have an office job,
but she’s a full-time homemaker.”

“That was Molly’s dream,” Rita said. “She planned to quit work after she married.
She stayed at the shop because she loved helping other brides.

“I was thrilled when Molly said she was marrying Ted Scottsmeyer.” She spat out Ted’s
name.

“It seemed perfect,” Rita said. “I was engaged to Ben. He was a sales associate for
a department store. Molly and I adored planning our weddings. Then Ben dumped me.
Molly was there for me. She understood my pain because she’d suffered, too. She’d
been jilted by someone else.”

Josie hesitated, then decided to chance the question. “There was another man before
that vet?” she asked.

“George,” Rita said. “She was madly in love.”

Success, Josie thought, holding back a sigh of relief.

“Did you know George?”

“I met him once,” Rita said. “He was okay. Sold Molly the blue broadloom for her home.
That’s how they met. George was kind of ordinary cute—turned-up nose, brown hair,
and a beard. I didn’t like the beard, but Molly thought it was manly. She’d bought
her wedding dress when George ran off to Billings, Montana.”

“How cruel,” Josie said.

“It was,” Rita said. “Molly saw George at the supermarket. Naturally, she went to
talk to her fiancé. He said he was leaving for Montana the next day. They were in
the produce department. Molly held her head up until she got to her car, but her heart
was broken.

“She was sick, physically sick. She sat in my living room and cried her heart out.
I took her to lunch; we went to movies and the art museum—anything to help her get
over George. Then she met
that vet
. Molly didn’t deserve what those men did to her.”

“Did you ever meet the vet?” Josie said.

“Once,” Rita said. “I was at Molly’s house when he came to check on Bella. He was
definitely a hottie. Soon Molly was planning her wedding to Ted. She was happy again.

“We had such a wonderful time planning that wedding. I was more like her sister than
Emily. She’s Molly’s half sister. They have the same father but different mothers.
And totally different personalities.

“Emily is just plain greedy. Molly was generous. Too generous for her own good. You’d
never guess Molly and Emily were related.” Rita took a sip of coffee and blotted her
eyes.

“Molly and Emily didn’t look anything alike. Emily doesn’t care how she dresses and
Molly was so feminine. She liked animals and Emily doesn’t. Molly and I love antiques
and Emily’s house is modern. I think modern furniture looks sterile, don’t you?”

“I have nothing but old furniture,” Josie said truthfully.

“I was at Emily’s once. I felt like I was sitting in a doctor’s waiting room.”

Josie peeked at her wristwatch. She had to get to Alyce’s for their lunch with Emily.

“Doctor!” Josie said. “You just reminded me. I have an appointment at noon. I’ll be
back. You’ve been a big help.”