taken the money.
Bridget climbed out of her Jeep. After closing the door of my truck, I made sure Kevin got a good view of my face. I almost laughed as I imagined his mouth agape in shock.
Aside from my wanting to help the Sandowskis—and I did, don't get me wrong—I had to admit I was going to enjoy sticking my nose into Kevin's investigation. My interference was going to make Kevin's hair stand on end. Not quite the punishment I was aiming for—unless he was attached to the electric chair—but it would do. For now.
Farmer Joe's meticulous landscaping had been allowed to run wild, with overgrown flower beds chock full of weeds and his shaped hedges growing every which way.
Weeds choked the cracked brick pathway leading up to the door. The designer in me already had ideas to transform the yard back to what it used to be.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to remember why I was here.
Taking hold of the door handle, Bridget jumped back in surprise as the screen door fell off its frame, landed with a soft whoosh in one of the overgrown Japanese yews that flanked the steps.
At closer inspection, I realized the house itself was quite beautiful. Run-down but beautiful. A classic Federal style and shape: a white brick square box with symmetrical lines and incredible detail on the paneled doors and moldings. It was too bad it was in such disrepair.
"You okay?"
Shakily, she nodded. "Nina, I really don't think this is a good idea."
I offered a reassuring smile. "So I've heard."
Sighing, she knocked once, entered.
Before stepping over the threshold, I turned to face the street, blew Kevin a kiss.
The scent of baking bread filled the air, and my stomach rumbled to life. Mrs. Sandowski's homemade bread was heaven on earth.
It took a moment for me to adjust from the sun to the dim lighting. Colored spots danced in front of my eyes.
Bridget cleared her throat. "Mom?"
I smiled. Bridget had started calling Mrs. Sandowski "Mom" long before she and Tim married. My eyesight slowly adjusted. The living room, where we were standing, was spotless. I doubted there was a speck of dust on any piece of furniture, and certainly no trace of soot in the large stone fireplace. I checked the soles of my Keds to make sure they were clean.
"Mom?" Bridget called out, slightly louder than before. Under her breath, she muttered, "Man, it's hot in here."
Hot was an understatement. Even with the windows open and a prehistoric ceiling fan droning above, hell had nothing on this place.
"I'm back here," Mrs. Sandowski yelled from the kitchen.
I followed Bridget down a short hallway into the sun
filled kitchen. I felt my breath catch as memories assailed me. I had spent many a happy hour in this kitchen, back when I had thought my own family was just too weird to be associated with. Oh, the wallpaper had faded and the linoleum had cracked, but it was as though I had just stepped back in time. The only thing different was the gallons and gallons of jug water bottles stacked against the rear wall.
Mrs. Sandowski sat at a pea green kitchen table, shucking corn, a window fan providing her little relief from the intense heat. She looked older, now with more gray than brown hair, but her eyes were the same. Sparkling hazel. Keen. Piercing. Alert. They narrowed as she looked at me.
"I'll be darned. Nina Ceceri! Is that you?"
She jumped up, moving much quicker than I would have thought she could. She had to be at least seventy.
Before I knew it I was engulfed in a big hug. She smelled of baking bread and Ivory soap. I smiled as she pulled away. "It's Nina Quinn now."
"Yes, yes, that's right." She waved to her head. "I'm old. The memory goes." The twinkle in her eye told me she was teasing.
"Nonsense."
She smiled. "My oh my, you're a sight for these old eyes."
"You look wonderful, Mrs. Sandowski."
She patted her hair, then slid her hands down her still slim figure. "Well, you know, I try."
My voice shook slightly as I said, "I'm so
Bridget climbed out of her Jeep. After closing the door of my truck, I made sure Kevin got a good view of my face. I almost laughed as I imagined his mouth agape in shock.
Aside from my wanting to help the Sandowskis—and I did, don't get me wrong—I had to admit I was going to enjoy sticking my nose into Kevin's investigation. My interference was going to make Kevin's hair stand on end. Not quite the punishment I was aiming for—unless he was attached to the electric chair—but it would do. For now.
Farmer Joe's meticulous landscaping had been allowed to run wild, with overgrown flower beds chock full of weeds and his shaped hedges growing every which way.
Weeds choked the cracked brick pathway leading up to the door. The designer in me already had ideas to transform the yard back to what it used to be.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to remember why I was here.
Taking hold of the door handle, Bridget jumped back in surprise as the screen door fell off its frame, landed with a soft whoosh in one of the overgrown Japanese yews that flanked the steps.
At closer inspection, I realized the house itself was quite beautiful. Run-down but beautiful. A classic Federal style and shape: a white brick square box with symmetrical lines and incredible detail on the paneled doors and moldings. It was too bad it was in such disrepair.
"You okay?"
Shakily, she nodded. "Nina, I really don't think this is a good idea."
I offered a reassuring smile. "So I've heard."
Sighing, she knocked once, entered.
Before stepping over the threshold, I turned to face the street, blew Kevin a kiss.
The scent of baking bread filled the air, and my stomach rumbled to life. Mrs. Sandowski's homemade bread was heaven on earth.
It took a moment for me to adjust from the sun to the dim lighting. Colored spots danced in front of my eyes.
Bridget cleared her throat. "Mom?"
I smiled. Bridget had started calling Mrs. Sandowski "Mom" long before she and Tim married. My eyesight slowly adjusted. The living room, where we were standing, was spotless. I doubted there was a speck of dust on any piece of furniture, and certainly no trace of soot in the large stone fireplace. I checked the soles of my Keds to make sure they were clean.
"Mom?" Bridget called out, slightly louder than before. Under her breath, she muttered, "Man, it's hot in here."
Hot was an understatement. Even with the windows open and a prehistoric ceiling fan droning above, hell had nothing on this place.
"I'm back here," Mrs. Sandowski yelled from the kitchen.
I followed Bridget down a short hallway into the sun
filled kitchen. I felt my breath catch as memories assailed me. I had spent many a happy hour in this kitchen, back when I had thought my own family was just too weird to be associated with. Oh, the wallpaper had faded and the linoleum had cracked, but it was as though I had just stepped back in time. The only thing different was the gallons and gallons of jug water bottles stacked against the rear wall.
Mrs. Sandowski sat at a pea green kitchen table, shucking corn, a window fan providing her little relief from the intense heat. She looked older, now with more gray than brown hair, but her eyes were the same. Sparkling hazel. Keen. Piercing. Alert. They narrowed as she looked at me.
"I'll be darned. Nina Ceceri! Is that you?"
She jumped up, moving much quicker than I would have thought she could. She had to be at least seventy.
Before I knew it I was engulfed in a big hug. She smelled of baking bread and Ivory soap. I smiled as she pulled away. "It's Nina Quinn now."
"Yes, yes, that's right." She waved to her head. "I'm old. The memory goes." The twinkle in her eye told me she was teasing.
"Nonsense."
She smiled. "My oh my, you're a sight for these old eyes."
"You look wonderful, Mrs. Sandowski."
She patted her hair, then slid her hands down her still slim figure. "Well, you know, I try."
My voice shook slightly as I said, "I'm so
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