first,” she told the little bird as she stepped over to the window.
Sure enough, there was a strange van parked across the street from her house. “Great!” she muttered. “Now what?” Finally, after staring at the vehicle a few moments more, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Might as well get it over with.
“Now, you be a good little birdie, and I’ll be back later,” she said to Sweety Boy, then firmly closed the door behind her and locked it.
She was almost to her van when a man emerged from the driver’s side of the parked vehicle. “Hey, lady,” he called out, walking quickly toward her. “Wait up a minute.”
Charlotte hopped inside her van, slammed the door shut, and hit the automatic door-lock. Then, after cranking up the van, she turned to see where the man had gone. The sight of his face on the other side of the window gave her a start, and fear mixed with anger spurted through her.
“Sorry about that,” he said loudly as he backed away. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but are you Ms. Charlotte LaRue?”
“Who wants to know?” she asked pointedly.
“I’m a freelance reporter, ma’am, and I need to talk to Ms. LaRue.”
Torn between telling the man to get off her property and calling the police, Charlotte simply glared at the man.
Remember, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar .
Or, in this case, maybe she could get rid of the pesky reporter easier by being nice rather than being nasty. It was worth a try and she knew just exactly how she was going to do it.
Pasting on the sweetest little-old-lady smile that she could conjure, she said, “Sorry, young man. I know all of my neighbors and none of their names are LaRue.” It wasn’t a lie…not exactly. She did know all of her neighbors and none of them but her had the last name LaRue. “You must have the wrong street.”
The reporter didn’t argue, but he did give her a funny look as he backed away. Then, with a shrug, he finally turned and headed for his van. “That should work for a little while,” she said aloud to no one as she shifted into Reverse and backed out of her driveway.
Putting thoughts of the reporter aside for the moment, she mulled over Bitsy’s phone call while she drove to her daughter-in-law’s house. If it were true, if the police had arrested Angel for murder, how would that affect the movie? Would they shut down production permanently? She figured that without one of the main stars, they wouldn’t have a choice.
By the time that Charlotte got home that afternoon, she was well ready for a little peace and quiet…and she was bone-tired. What she needed was a cup of coffee.
She headed for the kitchen, fixed the coffeepot, and turned it on. While the coffeepot gurgled and sputtered, reminding her that it was past time to give the machine a thorough cleaning, she stared out the window over the sink. She dearly loved the twins and loved spending time with them, but being around them when their mother was there to referee as opposed to having the full responsibility of being the referee was an entirely different thing.
Smiling with the lingering memories of her morning, she poured herself a cup of coffee and headed for her desk in the living room. As she settled at the desk, though, her smile quickly faded. She’d rather eat worms than have to fool with the monthly bookkeeping chores for Maid-for-a-Day. Too bad, though. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.
It was times like these that she wished she could simply hire her sister to keep the books for her. Several years back Madeline had started her own small accounting firm, and now she had more clients than she could handle. Even so, Charlotte had been reluctant to let her sister handle the books for Maid-for-a-Day, the main reason being that she didn’t really want Madeline, or anyone else for that matter, knowing all about her business. Besides, Madeline charged her clients a lot more than Charlotte was
Sure enough, there was a strange van parked across the street from her house. “Great!” she muttered. “Now what?” Finally, after staring at the vehicle a few moments more, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Might as well get it over with.
“Now, you be a good little birdie, and I’ll be back later,” she said to Sweety Boy, then firmly closed the door behind her and locked it.
She was almost to her van when a man emerged from the driver’s side of the parked vehicle. “Hey, lady,” he called out, walking quickly toward her. “Wait up a minute.”
Charlotte hopped inside her van, slammed the door shut, and hit the automatic door-lock. Then, after cranking up the van, she turned to see where the man had gone. The sight of his face on the other side of the window gave her a start, and fear mixed with anger spurted through her.
“Sorry about that,” he said loudly as he backed away. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but are you Ms. Charlotte LaRue?”
“Who wants to know?” she asked pointedly.
“I’m a freelance reporter, ma’am, and I need to talk to Ms. LaRue.”
Torn between telling the man to get off her property and calling the police, Charlotte simply glared at the man.
Remember, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar .
Or, in this case, maybe she could get rid of the pesky reporter easier by being nice rather than being nasty. It was worth a try and she knew just exactly how she was going to do it.
Pasting on the sweetest little-old-lady smile that she could conjure, she said, “Sorry, young man. I know all of my neighbors and none of their names are LaRue.” It wasn’t a lie…not exactly. She did know all of her neighbors and none of them but her had the last name LaRue. “You must have the wrong street.”
The reporter didn’t argue, but he did give her a funny look as he backed away. Then, with a shrug, he finally turned and headed for his van. “That should work for a little while,” she said aloud to no one as she shifted into Reverse and backed out of her driveway.
Putting thoughts of the reporter aside for the moment, she mulled over Bitsy’s phone call while she drove to her daughter-in-law’s house. If it were true, if the police had arrested Angel for murder, how would that affect the movie? Would they shut down production permanently? She figured that without one of the main stars, they wouldn’t have a choice.
By the time that Charlotte got home that afternoon, she was well ready for a little peace and quiet…and she was bone-tired. What she needed was a cup of coffee.
She headed for the kitchen, fixed the coffeepot, and turned it on. While the coffeepot gurgled and sputtered, reminding her that it was past time to give the machine a thorough cleaning, she stared out the window over the sink. She dearly loved the twins and loved spending time with them, but being around them when their mother was there to referee as opposed to having the full responsibility of being the referee was an entirely different thing.
Smiling with the lingering memories of her morning, she poured herself a cup of coffee and headed for her desk in the living room. As she settled at the desk, though, her smile quickly faded. She’d rather eat worms than have to fool with the monthly bookkeeping chores for Maid-for-a-Day. Too bad, though. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.
It was times like these that she wished she could simply hire her sister to keep the books for her. Several years back Madeline had started her own small accounting firm, and now she had more clients than she could handle. Even so, Charlotte had been reluctant to let her sister handle the books for Maid-for-a-Day, the main reason being that she didn’t really want Madeline, or anyone else for that matter, knowing all about her business. Besides, Madeline charged her clients a lot more than Charlotte was
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