Drop Dead Gorgeous by Heather Graham

mother inquired in mock outrage.
    “Never, my darling, never!” her father protested quickly, slipping his arms around his wife’s waist and offering a look of baffled apology that sent Brendan into gales of laughter. Lori was bemused herself. She didn’t remember her parents getting along quite so well when she was young, nor had she realized that they could be so affectionate to one another.
    “Where’s that breakfast you promised?” her father demanded quickly.
    “Come in, come in, come in!” Brendan invited, and lead them all into the dining room.
    Brendan was a great help, fetching plates, pouring juice, replenishing coffee. Lori was delighted that her bacon, eggs, toast, and waffles came out so well, and that her homecoming was going so well. She’d dreaded this; maybe they had dreaded it, too. And then, inevitably, the conversation veered to the past, where it could not help but intrude upon the present.
    “Lori, did you hear that Sean Black was in town? He’s become some famous author—” her mother began.
    “Michael Shayne!” Brendan chimed in enthusiastically.
    Lori frowned, but Brendan didn’t notice. “Gramma, he came over last night. I could n’t believe that Mom knew him—he’s my favorite, I mean my absolute favorite!”
    “Lori, should he be reading slasher books like that—” her mother began.
    Lori was about to defend her son’s reading habits, but she didn’t need to. Brendan could take care of himself. “Gramma, he doesn’t write slasher books. I learn so much reading his novels. They’re all about DNA and science and police procedure and medicine and all kinds of stuff. And what’s better than that, he writes about great people, and he makes you understand how people think and work and… well, you’re just going to have to read one of his books to understand!”
    “Well!” Gloria said. She looked at Lori, biting into her lower lip and asking softly, “So you’ve seen him— already ?”
    The inference was there, of course, that she’d seen Sean Black before she’d even seen her parents.
    “Yeah,” she said, sipping her coffee, then looking up to realize that not only her mother but her father and Gramps were staring at her hard. She tried to sound casual. “Small world, isn’t it? Jan took us to supper in the Grove, and I ran right into him on my way to the bookshop to get the kids after we ate.”
    “Then he came here!” Brendan said with awe. “Can you believe that? Sean Black came here!”
    There was dead silence. Lori waited for something awful to happen. Like the roof caving in to bury them all so that they could keep staring at one another while encased in white plaster.
    “Well,” her mother said.
    “Sean? Came to your house?” her father said.
    “Why?” Gramps asked.
    “Well, he just stopped by to see if I was okay—” Lori hedged.
    “Why?” Gramps repeated.
    “Because their old friend was so horribly murdered, of course!” her mother said.
    Lori almost spit coffee all over.
    “Yeah, can you imagine, he comes back into town, and his old flame’s best friend is butchered,” her father said, shaking his head.
    “Mom?” Brendan murmured.
    “Dad,” Lori protested.
    “Oh, God, sorry, it’s just that these things upset me so much,” her father murmured. He was a retired stockbroker, one of the social elite, past commodore of the yacht club, and friend to many an attorney—yet passionate in his argument that criminals walked far too freely, criminal rights were far too often set above victim rights, and that most of the fellows making his friends rich should be “fried.” He was an avid proponent of Florida’s electric chair, known as “Old Sparky.” There had been a major debate set in motion recently when a condemned man caught fire in the electric chair. Those against capital punishment had labeled the electric chair dangerous and inhumane. Lori’s father had been quick to point out the fact that the chair was supposed to be