oldest and dearest friend, Wendy Spellman.”
I smiled and offered my hand. Wendy’s delicate, pale hand shook mine softly.
“I think we met,” she said, frowning, as if trying to recall the meeting.
“Not formally,” I said, “but I was at the party. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I glanced at Dillon, who was spinning on his heels, glancing around the area and trying to avoid eye contact with Wendy. The woman really seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“And Dillon!” Wendy said, spotting him standing behind me. She gave him a big, motherly hug. I checked to make sure.
“Wendy,” Dillon said, after clearing his throat. “I hope the cops weren’t too hard on you.”
“Not at all, you sweet boy,” Wendy said. “They just asked us a few questions, like where we were when the body was discovered and did we know the victim well. That’s about it. This has been quite a night, hasn’t it? Just like on one of those TV cop shows like
Law and Order
. I love that show.”
Wendy seemed more excited about the events of the evening than disturbed.
“Did you know Polly?” I asked, curious by her lack of empathy for the deceased.
“No. Never met her—until tonight. She was one of the judges, wasn’t she? I wonder if the competition will be canceled. I hope not. I spent hours working on my entry.”
Aunt Abby explained what she’d learned from Reina—that a replacement had been found. Wendy gave a big sigh of relief.
It was getting late and cold. “We’d better get going, Aunt Abby,” I said to her. “Big day tomorrow.”
My aunt turned to her friend. “Wendy, can we give you a lift? I’ve got my car.”
“That would be lovely, Abigail. Thank you so much.”
The two women began walking arm in arm down the street, while Dillon and I followed.
“I’m not getting into that backseat with her,” he mumbled.
I grinned. Wendy Spellman hardly looked like the man-eater type Dillon had described. As soon as we arrived at the car, Dillon opened the front passenger door and pulled the seat forward. “After you,” he said to Wendy. Aunt Abby went around to the other side and climbed in to join her friend in the backseat.
I drove the four of us to Wendy’s apartment on Gough, following her directions, while listening to the two old friends talk about the old days. When the name George Brown came up, I paid closer attention.
“I remember him!” Wendy said. “Didn’t you date him before you met Ed?”
“I might have gone out with him once or twice,” Aunt Abby conceded humbly. “It was no big deal.”
“I thought he was cute,” Wendy said. “You could have passed him on to me.”
Maybe Dillon was right. Maybe this sweet old lady was really a she-wolf after all.
Aunt Abby giggled. “I seem to recall you were perfectly capable of getting your own guys.”
“Married three times,” Wendy said proudly. “And three times a widow.”
A black widow,
I thought fleetingly, then mentally reprimanded myself.
“This is it,” Wendy said as I pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building. “Thank you so much for the ride. See you all tomorrow. And best of luck to you, Abigail.” She gave a quick peck to Aunt Abby’s cheek and stepped out of the car.
Aunt Abby reached out of the window to give her friend’s hand a squeeze. “You too, Gwendolyn.”
“We won’t need luck now that we’ve got a new judge!” Wendy let go of Aunt Abby’s hand and stepped back, then waved us off.
On the ride back to Aunt Abby’s house, I found myself exhausted from the party, the drama, and the interrogation by Detective Shelton. And what about Jake? He seemed to have completely disappeared, and I couldn’t help wondering if he was meeting his ex somewhere.
Not that I cared. Not at all. Nuh-uh.
I was glad for Aunt Abby that Reina had found a replacement judge so the contest could continue. Like Wendy Spellman, my aunt had worked so hard preparing hundreds of her chocolate whoopie pies.
I smiled and offered my hand. Wendy’s delicate, pale hand shook mine softly.
“I think we met,” she said, frowning, as if trying to recall the meeting.
“Not formally,” I said, “but I was at the party. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I glanced at Dillon, who was spinning on his heels, glancing around the area and trying to avoid eye contact with Wendy. The woman really seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“And Dillon!” Wendy said, spotting him standing behind me. She gave him a big, motherly hug. I checked to make sure.
“Wendy,” Dillon said, after clearing his throat. “I hope the cops weren’t too hard on you.”
“Not at all, you sweet boy,” Wendy said. “They just asked us a few questions, like where we were when the body was discovered and did we know the victim well. That’s about it. This has been quite a night, hasn’t it? Just like on one of those TV cop shows like
Law and Order
. I love that show.”
Wendy seemed more excited about the events of the evening than disturbed.
“Did you know Polly?” I asked, curious by her lack of empathy for the deceased.
“No. Never met her—until tonight. She was one of the judges, wasn’t she? I wonder if the competition will be canceled. I hope not. I spent hours working on my entry.”
Aunt Abby explained what she’d learned from Reina—that a replacement had been found. Wendy gave a big sigh of relief.
It was getting late and cold. “We’d better get going, Aunt Abby,” I said to her. “Big day tomorrow.”
My aunt turned to her friend. “Wendy, can we give you a lift? I’ve got my car.”
“That would be lovely, Abigail. Thank you so much.”
The two women began walking arm in arm down the street, while Dillon and I followed.
“I’m not getting into that backseat with her,” he mumbled.
I grinned. Wendy Spellman hardly looked like the man-eater type Dillon had described. As soon as we arrived at the car, Dillon opened the front passenger door and pulled the seat forward. “After you,” he said to Wendy. Aunt Abby went around to the other side and climbed in to join her friend in the backseat.
I drove the four of us to Wendy’s apartment on Gough, following her directions, while listening to the two old friends talk about the old days. When the name George Brown came up, I paid closer attention.
“I remember him!” Wendy said. “Didn’t you date him before you met Ed?”
“I might have gone out with him once or twice,” Aunt Abby conceded humbly. “It was no big deal.”
“I thought he was cute,” Wendy said. “You could have passed him on to me.”
Maybe Dillon was right. Maybe this sweet old lady was really a she-wolf after all.
Aunt Abby giggled. “I seem to recall you were perfectly capable of getting your own guys.”
“Married three times,” Wendy said proudly. “And three times a widow.”
A black widow,
I thought fleetingly, then mentally reprimanded myself.
“This is it,” Wendy said as I pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building. “Thank you so much for the ride. See you all tomorrow. And best of luck to you, Abigail.” She gave a quick peck to Aunt Abby’s cheek and stepped out of the car.
Aunt Abby reached out of the window to give her friend’s hand a squeeze. “You too, Gwendolyn.”
“We won’t need luck now that we’ve got a new judge!” Wendy let go of Aunt Abby’s hand and stepped back, then waved us off.
On the ride back to Aunt Abby’s house, I found myself exhausted from the party, the drama, and the interrogation by Detective Shelton. And what about Jake? He seemed to have completely disappeared, and I couldn’t help wondering if he was meeting his ex somewhere.
Not that I cared. Not at all. Nuh-uh.
I was glad for Aunt Abby that Reina had found a replacement judge so the contest could continue. Like Wendy Spellman, my aunt had worked so hard preparing hundreds of her chocolate whoopie pies.
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