marvelousness.”
“Here, here,” I said, and tasted my dessert. Laney had added cashews and caramel. The woman’s practically a genius.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Almost as marvelous as me.”
“They could use that in their marketing.”
“Call it Christina’s Caramel.”
“Or Mac’s Madness.”
I gave her a nod and set my bowl down. Sometimes I’m not only marvelous, I’m disciplined. But usually I’m just marvelous. “What’s going on?” I asked again.
She stared at me for a long second. “I don’t want to get you involved.”
“With what?”
For a moment I almost thought she was going to lie to me. But Brainy Laney is practically physically incapable of fabrications. I don’t have that problem … except where Laney’s involved.
“I’ve been getting some unusual mail,” she said.
“Define unusual.”
She drew a careful breath and cocked an almost-hip against the counter. “An adjective. Meaning uncommon. Rare.”
“I wasn’t asking for Webster’s opinion.”
“And I’m not asking for your help.”
“Why?”
“Because I like eating ice cream with you.”
“You haven’t eaten any.”
She smiled. “You tend to get too involved.”
“I’m funny that way. I prefer for my friends to have pulses,” I said, and picked up my bowl again. Laney had gone through the trouble of dishing it up after all.
“You had never even met Aalia before you went charging off to her rescue.”
I took a bite of ambrosia and gave her a look.
She glanced away, frustrated. Worried. “I didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about.”
“The unusual mail.”
“It was just an odd letter here or there.”
“But now?”
“They’re getting odder. I’m thinking of moving in with Jeen before the wedding.”
“So that if it’s a murderous fan, Solberg’ll be the first to go?”
She gave me a disgusted scowl. “So you don’t get hurt.”
I nodded. “We’re sacrificing you , then, I take it?”
Her scowl took on a little more attitude. One would think as pretty as Laney is, she wouldn’t be very good at angry, but that’s not true. She could drive a Navy SEAL to his knees if she put her mind to it. Of course it might have less to do with anger and more to do with the size of her boobs. “We’re not sacrificing anyone,” she said.
“Have you talked to the police?”
“On location,” she said.
“Not here?”
“I just opened the letter today.”
“It’s been a big day,” I said, and took another bite of ice cream. It had lost of little of its scrumptiousness. I resented that.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
My spoon paused halfway to my mouth. “You’re apologizing? Seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“Did you send the letter?”
“You’re such a dirt wad.”
“A dirt wad?”
“Don’t make me swear,” she said, and I laughed, but in that moment I saw that her eyes were teary.
“Elaine.” I set my bowl down. Laney had learned to sob from the virtuosos on daytime television, but in real life she was a silent crier. She never made a sound when she was truly upset. “What’s wrong?”
She scrunched up her face and glanced away. “You are always taking care of me.”
I couldn’t possibly have been more surprised to hear that. “Are you kidding? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I’m living here.” She flapped a hand sideways toward my threadbare carpets, my scuffed walls. “Mooching off you, and I’m never here. Always planning for the stupid wedding that’s been blown way out of …” Her voice trailed off.
Stupid wedding? “Yeah,” I agreed, voice cautious and hopeful, “the wedding’s a lot of stress. Maybe you should call it off.”
She laughed even as she wiped away a tear with her knuckles. “I’m not calling it off. It’s just … it’s gotten out of hand.”
“So take it back in hand.”
She shook her head. “Solberg wants … spectacle.”
I refrained from informing her that Solberg was an
“Here, here,” I said, and tasted my dessert. Laney had added cashews and caramel. The woman’s practically a genius.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Almost as marvelous as me.”
“They could use that in their marketing.”
“Call it Christina’s Caramel.”
“Or Mac’s Madness.”
I gave her a nod and set my bowl down. Sometimes I’m not only marvelous, I’m disciplined. But usually I’m just marvelous. “What’s going on?” I asked again.
She stared at me for a long second. “I don’t want to get you involved.”
“With what?”
For a moment I almost thought she was going to lie to me. But Brainy Laney is practically physically incapable of fabrications. I don’t have that problem … except where Laney’s involved.
“I’ve been getting some unusual mail,” she said.
“Define unusual.”
She drew a careful breath and cocked an almost-hip against the counter. “An adjective. Meaning uncommon. Rare.”
“I wasn’t asking for Webster’s opinion.”
“And I’m not asking for your help.”
“Why?”
“Because I like eating ice cream with you.”
“You haven’t eaten any.”
She smiled. “You tend to get too involved.”
“I’m funny that way. I prefer for my friends to have pulses,” I said, and picked up my bowl again. Laney had gone through the trouble of dishing it up after all.
“You had never even met Aalia before you went charging off to her rescue.”
I took a bite of ambrosia and gave her a look.
She glanced away, frustrated. Worried. “I didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about.”
“The unusual mail.”
“It was just an odd letter here or there.”
“But now?”
“They’re getting odder. I’m thinking of moving in with Jeen before the wedding.”
“So that if it’s a murderous fan, Solberg’ll be the first to go?”
She gave me a disgusted scowl. “So you don’t get hurt.”
I nodded. “We’re sacrificing you , then, I take it?”
Her scowl took on a little more attitude. One would think as pretty as Laney is, she wouldn’t be very good at angry, but that’s not true. She could drive a Navy SEAL to his knees if she put her mind to it. Of course it might have less to do with anger and more to do with the size of her boobs. “We’re not sacrificing anyone,” she said.
“Have you talked to the police?”
“On location,” she said.
“Not here?”
“I just opened the letter today.”
“It’s been a big day,” I said, and took another bite of ice cream. It had lost of little of its scrumptiousness. I resented that.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
My spoon paused halfway to my mouth. “You’re apologizing? Seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“Did you send the letter?”
“You’re such a dirt wad.”
“A dirt wad?”
“Don’t make me swear,” she said, and I laughed, but in that moment I saw that her eyes were teary.
“Elaine.” I set my bowl down. Laney had learned to sob from the virtuosos on daytime television, but in real life she was a silent crier. She never made a sound when she was truly upset. “What’s wrong?”
She scrunched up her face and glanced away. “You are always taking care of me.”
I couldn’t possibly have been more surprised to hear that. “Are you kidding? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I’m living here.” She flapped a hand sideways toward my threadbare carpets, my scuffed walls. “Mooching off you, and I’m never here. Always planning for the stupid wedding that’s been blown way out of …” Her voice trailed off.
Stupid wedding? “Yeah,” I agreed, voice cautious and hopeful, “the wedding’s a lot of stress. Maybe you should call it off.”
She laughed even as she wiped away a tear with her knuckles. “I’m not calling it off. It’s just … it’s gotten out of hand.”
“So take it back in hand.”
She shook her head. “Solberg wants … spectacle.”
I refrained from informing her that Solberg was an
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