of my wigs."
My mouth dropped open. I caught her eye in the rearview mirror. "You have wigs? Plural?"
"I'm surprised you know plural, Miss Nina Ceceri, for all the talking you did in class," Mrs. Krauss cut in. I wondered if there was a way to crash the car so that only her seat was affected.
"I have some," Ana murmured, a grin turning up the corners of her lips.
"Do I dare ask why?"
She waggled her eyebrows. "Halloween?" Mrs. Krauss said, "Ha!"
Maria lifted her head. Her gaze lingered on each of us before she looked at me and said, "You should borrow one. Anything's better than what you've got."
This led us into a conversation on hair coloring that lasted until after I dropped Mrs. Krauss off at her lando. She'd promised to rethink her decision about Mr. Cabrera, at least.
Ana begged off on hanging around for dinner, saying she needed to get the house clean. Her mother, my aunt Rosetta, was flying in early the next morning.
I groaned thinking about my aunt Carlotta and uncle Giuseppe. I really needed to call my mother about them. I didn't have time for houseguests.
Not to mention that I didn't have anywhere to put houseguests. My house was a modest two-story bungalow, with two bedrooms and two baths. Sure, the couch folded out, but it tended to sag in the middle. Uncle Giuseppe was a big man. I didn't want to see Aunt Carlotta smothered when they both rolled into the dip.
I supposed we ought to fill my mother in on Nate's, er, misplacement too.
Or maybe not. If Celeste Chambeau Ceceri heard there might not be a wedding . . . I shuddered.
After dropping Ana off at her condo, I drove Maria home.
"What do you think has happened to him?" Maria blinked her big blue eyes at me. "Honestly."
Honestly, I had no idea. It would be easy to speculate that he'd run off with Claire Battiste, but then there was that envelope and that phone call and that funny feeling in my chest that told me something wasn't quite right.
I pulled into Maria's long driveway—she had decided to stay at the new house permanently. "I don't know." Maria pouted. Her mood was getting seriously depressing. And annoying.
"Let's go in," I said. "Maybe he's called."
The rain had let up, but left its damage. I cringed at the puddles in Maria's yard and the acre of muck. It would take days for things to dry out. Days I didn't have. Unless the wedding was off.
Inwardly, I groaned. I hadn't thought of the repercussions of a canceled wedding. Nate's dad was footing the TBS bill. What would happen if there was no wedding? Would he back out? What would I do with all the materials? All the off-site work that had already been done?
My contractors would have to be paid in full for the work they'd completed, wedding or not. Trees, shrubs, and plants had already been bought and paid for and were sitting in TBS's fenced-in backyard just waiting to be planted. Ugh.
Suddenly feeling sick, I followed Maria inside. She hurried to the phone and frowned after checking her messages. "Nothing," she said, kicking off her heels and sinking into a sleek curved chair. It baffled me how she didn't slide right off.
She sighed heavily. I didn't know what to say, so I left her there and wandered over to the bank of tinted windows overlooking the backyard.
How much did Maria have in the bank? Probably not enough to swallow the cost of the yard. The completed job would be in low six figures. My parents lived on a fixed income—my father's retirement money from forty years of teaching at the University of Cincinnati. They'd planned well and had extra, but not that much extra.
If worse came to worse, TBS could swallow the debts, but worse wo uld put a serious dent into my bottom line. I didn't want to think about it; I wanted to focus on Nate. But as owner of TBS, I had to think about it. I had responsibilities. I had a giant load of topsoil being delivered on Saturday. I needed to know whether or not to cancel it. Maybe Nate would show up with some ludicrous story of
My mouth dropped open. I caught her eye in the rearview mirror. "You have wigs? Plural?"
"I'm surprised you know plural, Miss Nina Ceceri, for all the talking you did in class," Mrs. Krauss cut in. I wondered if there was a way to crash the car so that only her seat was affected.
"I have some," Ana murmured, a grin turning up the corners of her lips.
"Do I dare ask why?"
She waggled her eyebrows. "Halloween?" Mrs. Krauss said, "Ha!"
Maria lifted her head. Her gaze lingered on each of us before she looked at me and said, "You should borrow one. Anything's better than what you've got."
This led us into a conversation on hair coloring that lasted until after I dropped Mrs. Krauss off at her lando. She'd promised to rethink her decision about Mr. Cabrera, at least.
Ana begged off on hanging around for dinner, saying she needed to get the house clean. Her mother, my aunt Rosetta, was flying in early the next morning.
I groaned thinking about my aunt Carlotta and uncle Giuseppe. I really needed to call my mother about them. I didn't have time for houseguests.
Not to mention that I didn't have anywhere to put houseguests. My house was a modest two-story bungalow, with two bedrooms and two baths. Sure, the couch folded out, but it tended to sag in the middle. Uncle Giuseppe was a big man. I didn't want to see Aunt Carlotta smothered when they both rolled into the dip.
I supposed we ought to fill my mother in on Nate's, er, misplacement too.
Or maybe not. If Celeste Chambeau Ceceri heard there might not be a wedding . . . I shuddered.
After dropping Ana off at her condo, I drove Maria home.
"What do you think has happened to him?" Maria blinked her big blue eyes at me. "Honestly."
Honestly, I had no idea. It would be easy to speculate that he'd run off with Claire Battiste, but then there was that envelope and that phone call and that funny feeling in my chest that told me something wasn't quite right.
I pulled into Maria's long driveway—she had decided to stay at the new house permanently. "I don't know." Maria pouted. Her mood was getting seriously depressing. And annoying.
"Let's go in," I said. "Maybe he's called."
The rain had let up, but left its damage. I cringed at the puddles in Maria's yard and the acre of muck. It would take days for things to dry out. Days I didn't have. Unless the wedding was off.
Inwardly, I groaned. I hadn't thought of the repercussions of a canceled wedding. Nate's dad was footing the TBS bill. What would happen if there was no wedding? Would he back out? What would I do with all the materials? All the off-site work that had already been done?
My contractors would have to be paid in full for the work they'd completed, wedding or not. Trees, shrubs, and plants had already been bought and paid for and were sitting in TBS's fenced-in backyard just waiting to be planted. Ugh.
Suddenly feeling sick, I followed Maria inside. She hurried to the phone and frowned after checking her messages. "Nothing," she said, kicking off her heels and sinking into a sleek curved chair. It baffled me how she didn't slide right off.
She sighed heavily. I didn't know what to say, so I left her there and wandered over to the bank of tinted windows overlooking the backyard.
How much did Maria have in the bank? Probably not enough to swallow the cost of the yard. The completed job would be in low six figures. My parents lived on a fixed income—my father's retirement money from forty years of teaching at the University of Cincinnati. They'd planned well and had extra, but not that much extra.
If worse came to worse, TBS could swallow the debts, but worse wo uld put a serious dent into my bottom line. I didn't want to think about it; I wanted to focus on Nate. But as owner of TBS, I had to think about it. I had responsibilities. I had a giant load of topsoil being delivered on Saturday. I needed to know whether or not to cancel it. Maybe Nate would show up with some ludicrous story of
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