Angel Lane by Sheila Roberts

like she had a stone inside her, sinking fast from her heart to her stomach. They had failed.
    The crunch of tires on gravel made her turn. Yay, another body. People would show. They were just running late. Jamie pulled up next to her. She sighed. Well, the organizers werehere. And their mothers. She grabbed her platter of cookies from the front seat and got out.
    â€œBig turnout,” Jamie said in disgust as she got out of her car.
    â€œWe still have five minutes,” Emma reminded her.
    â€œLet’s hope that everyone in Heart Lake is running late,” said Jamie. She shook her head. “And after that great article in the paper—if this is all the turnout we get I’m going to be majorly pissed.”
    You and me both, thought Emma. Except Emma wasn’t going to admit it.
    They went inside to find Sarah had already decorated, hanging purple, pink, and red foiled hearts all over the walls. Emma’s mother hurried over to greet her daughter, trailed by Grandma Nordby. It wasn’t hard to tell the two women were related. Each one of them looked like Russian nesting dolls—with the same round face and body Emma had inherited. Mom’s strawberry-blond hair was now shot with gray, well on its way to Grandma Nordby’s solid white. Emma didn’t need a magic mirror to see her future. All she had to do was look at her grandma and mom.
    â€œWe’re so proud of you, dear,” said Grandma.
    Emma frowned. “It’s not much of a turnout.”
    Her mother looked at her watch. “It’s not seven yet. You still have four minutes.”
    Four minutes. Anything could happen in four minutes. Emma set the platter of cookies she’d bought on the little table Sarah had covered with a tablecloth. It already held a flower arrangement courtesy of Hope Wells the florist and a plate of ginger cookies. Next to Sarah’s famous ginger cookies, Emma’s grocery-store offering didn’t look like much.
    Sarah emerged from the kitchen, carrying two coffee carafes. “Are we all ready?” she greeted them.
    Emma nodded. “I just hope more people come.”
    Car tires crunched on the gravel. “They’ll be here,” Sarah assured her. “Sure you don’t want to do the talking? This was your idea.”
    Talk in front of people? No, thanks
. “You go ahead.”
    At that moment Sarah’s husband, Sam, joined them. He was a big man, still buff and good-looking in spite of the growing bald spot on the top of his head. “Don’t forget to put this out,” he said, and laid the newspaper article on the table next to their cookies. “Pretty good publicity.”
    It was. The headline read,
Heart Lake Angels Work to Put Heart in Heart Lake
, and in addition to the article, they’d gotten their pictures in the paper. It was the first time Emma had ever had her picture in the paper. She was going to frame it.
    So, with all that great publicity, where was everyone?
    The door opened and in walked Sarah’s friend Kizzy Maxwell with her husband, Lionel. She saw Sarah and Emma, waved at them and started their way, her husband in tow. “This is a great idea,” she said, giving Sarah a hug. “Was it yours?”
    Jamie had joined them now. She pointed to Emma. “Hers.”
    â€œOprah would be proud,” said Kizzy. Her husband grabbed a cookie from the platter and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lionel Jefferson Maxwell.”
    He frowned and said, “I’m just having one.”
    â€œThey’re free,” said Sam, digging in, “have two.”
    â€œGood idea,” said Emma, and took two ginger cookies as consolation for their poor turnout.
    As the minute hand inched toward seven, more people trickled in. There was Hope, and behind her Emma recognized Pastor Ed the gentle giant who gave pastors a good name; Kevin Dwyer, who ran the chamber of commerce; and Lezlie Hurst, the reporter from