Late Edition by Fern Michaels Page B

Toots’s home. This would save her having to make a daily trip into town. Plus she needed every free moment she could muster in order to produce her clothing for Good Mourning. She had checked her Web site one more time before they left and had seen she had another twenty-three orders. Lucky for her, they were all size tens and twelves. Still, that would leave her barely twenty-four hours to sew, iron, and pack tomorrow’s orders. On a whim, she had told Catherine what she was doing. Catherine had offered to sell Mavis’s designs in her shop, but Mavis had refused, telling her she wanted exclusive rights to her designs. Being a businesswoman herself, Catherine not only understood but agreed this was a good plan. Mavis told her about the factory she’d made contact with in California and also that she might have a supplier for a higher quality material than she was using now. Catherine agreed that soon Mavis would not be able to keep up with the demand.
    If orders continued to come in through the Web site, Mavis would have no other choice. She would have to tell the girls what she was doing simply because she could not hide something that big, especially from Sophie, who already suspected she was up to something. It had been hard not to share her excitement with her friends, but until she proved to be successful or overwhelmed, whichever came first, Mavis decided it was best to keep her new venture a secret for as long as possible.
    Mavis pulled through the wrought-iron gates leading up the winding drive to Toots’s beautiful house. Ida hadn’t uttered a single word since Mavis took the wheel.
    Carefully, Mavis parked the car inside the garage, cramming the keys inside her purse so that she could return them to Bernice for safekeeping. It would do none of them any good at all if Ida were to get hold of the keys and decide to practice her driving skills.
    Mavis and Ida entered the house through the back door that led to the kitchen. Greeted by the scent of something burning, each took a deep breath.
    Toots, Sophie, and Bernice were running around the kitchen like three chickens with their heads cut off. Bernice had a broom in her hand, waving it back and forth in the air; Sophie had two kitchen towels, swinging them around as though they were a lasso; and poor Toots was filling the dishwasher with cereal bowls.
    â€œWhat in the world happened?” Mavis asked as she ran over to the sink to assist Toots. She dropped her purse on the counter and raised the window above the sink to allow the smoke to filter outside.
    â€œToots made dinner.” Sophie smirked. “She owns a bakery now, and somehow that convinced her she knew her way around a kitchen.”
    â€œAre you talking about our Toots?” Mavis asked.
    â€œThe one and only,” Bernice added.
    In the prim and proper voice usually reserved for a man she was trying to impress, Ida said, “I don’t believe I heard you correctly. Did I hear you say Toots now owns a bakery? Please tell me it isn’t so.”
    â€œUnfortunately, if I did, that would make me a liar, and my nose would probably grow,” Sophie said as she continued to twirl the kitchen cloths in the air. Ida thought she resembled a majorette in a marching band, minus the baton.
    Hands immersed in soapy dishwater, Toots called over her shoulder, “I don’t see why everyone is making such a fuss. I tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches. I burnt them. Big deal. It’s not like the house caught on fire. This stink will be out of here in no time.”
    â€œYeah, it’s a shame we don’t have any of those charcoal underpants you invested in. We sure could use those right now. Filter out some of the smoke,” Sophie muttered as she continued to march around the kitchen, waving at the smoke with the kitchen towels.
    Mavis and Toots worked together at the sink while Bernice and Sophie continued to wave the smoke away. Ida sat down at the