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faces for, what, girls? At least ten years? Or twenty?”

      “Nora, why don’t you and your guests come in and have a seat?” I stepped back and indicated the nearest sofa.

      Mercy and Grace looked gratefully at me and began inching inside.

      Nora promptly walked over and plopped down in the exact middle, forcing our visitors to sit down on either side of her. I shot her a look that said ‘play nice’—at least that’s the message I hoped I was sending. Nora, on the other hand, didn’t seem intent on being anything at the moment except her snarkiest self. The two sisters looked as though they’d already shrunk a couple inches each.

      Sighing, I sat across from the trio, affixing a pleasant expression on my face. I was becoming used to being Nora’s emotional counterweight, the nice cop to her very, very bad one, the sugar to her spice. Or maybe it was vinegar. An old saying about honey and vinegar and flies slipped into my head, and I completely missed Nora’s opening gambit.

      “How can you say that!” exclaimed Mercy, her eyes wide in shock. “We would never want that to happen. Would we, Sister?”

      “Absolutely not,” agreed Grace in a pious tone. “We are lifetime volunteers at St. Bridget’s Family Center.”

      She said that as if it was the mark of someone with a spotless reputation, someone as clean and pure as the driven snow. Having seen quite a bit of snow in my lifetime, though, I was well aware of what it could conceal underneath. Rocky soil. Trash piles. Dead bodies.

      “And I could really give a rat’s a…patootie what you two nutcases do all day.” Nora examined her nails as if they were the most important things in the room.

      I groaned inwardly; I knew that tone. It generally heralded the storm’s imminent arrival. Jumping to my feet, I redoubled my smile and stared hard at Nora. “Nora, dear, why don’t I make us some tea?”

      “Not on your life, Gwen. These two imbeciles were leaving.”

      To my surprise, the sisters rose as one, each clasping her handbag to her scrawny chest like a shield. In less than ten seconds, they were gone.

      Nora slumped back against the sofa’s cushions, and I was concerned to see how much that little exchange had taken out of her. Of course, it must have been unpleasant, seeing two reminders of a past failure on top of the visit from Phoebe.

      Then I remembered her bank account. If anything, Nora had come out of all of her marriages more than a conqueror. In fact, she was quite the modern Viking. Plundering and pillaging wherever the latest husband’s money was kept.

      Still, I didn’t like the way she looked at the moment and told her so.

      “I’m taking stock.” She sat with her head back and eyes closed. “Don’t get your panties all bunched up, Gwen.”

      “Whether you like it or not, I’m getting you some tea.” I headed for the kitchen, my back stiff at her last words.

      “Put some brandy in it,” she called after me. “I could use a hefty dose after those two. For medicinal purposes, of course.”

      “You’re going to become a raving alcoholic,” I muttered to myself as I rattled the mugs against the counter. “That’ll go nicely with your raving lunatic mind.”

      “I heard that! And I don’t care what time of the day it is. Folks can get sick at all hours.” There was a slight pause. “And I am not a lunatic. I was not the one teaching adolescent maniacs all those years.”

      “Blah, blah, blah. Fine.” I reached for the bottle of brandy, my lips folded together as I added a slosh to her teacup. If my best friend was going to go all alcoholic on me, she’d better be ready for an intervention. I could do it, too. I’d seen the shows on television where a person’s loved ones ganged up on them and offered an ultimatum.

      Besides, Brent was big enough to haul her skinny butt out of here and to rehab if I asked him to.

      “Ah, that’s better.” Nora took an exaggerated slurp from her cup and smiled at me. “You should try it. It’ll make you relax.”

      “I don’t need to relax.” I spoke through gritted teeth as I sat ramrod straight on the edge of my chair. “What I need to do right now is figure out why someone wants you dead.” I raised my voice as she began a halfhearted protest. “And if there’s going to be a parade of stepchildren coming through that door, I think I’ll go back to my own place, thank you very much.”

      To my surprise, Nora began to giggle. It couldn’t be the brandy. I hadn’t put that much in her tea. Carefully placing her cup on a nearby table, she leaned back against the sofa and howled with laughter.

      Standing, I glared at her, hands planted firmly on my hips. That way, I wouldn’t be tempted to kill her.

      “I don’t know what’s so funny about wanting to keep you safe.” My voice was stiff with hurt pride. “It’s your life, though. You can count me out of this circus.”

      “It’s not you.” She managed to gasp the words out between bouts of hilarity. “Did you see them? That hair! And those handbags!” She went off into another fit of laughter, wiping her streaming eyes.

      “And their names.” I gave a tentative smile. “Who in their right mind names their kids Mercy and Grace?” It suddenly struck me as hilarious. I’d only had one tiny sip of brandy, cross my heart. I joined Nora on the sofa, unable to control a fit of giggles.

      “Are you two all right?”

      In all the noise we were making, neither one of us had heard the Boy Wonder come in. I took one look at his concerned face and began giggling again. I felt as unrestrained as if I’d been the one drinking the brandy.

      “Miss F? Should I call someone?” Brent stood there uncertainly, staring at the two of us as we writhed about in a rather undignified manner.

      I suddenly noticed he was trying to hold something small and wiggly next to his chest and sat up, wiping my eyes.

      “Brent Mayfair, what in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing? I told you that you couldn’t bring that thing back here.” I pointed at the tiny puppy, its soft snout emerging from behind his large hands. “I don’t think Mrs. Goldstein is going to appreciate you bringing work back to her apartment.”

      “But the lady said I could keep her.”

      I thought I could hear tears in his voice.

      “And my mom won’t let me keep her at my house, so she’s got to go somewhere.”

      “Absolutely. Right back to her owner. That’s where.”

      I pointed at the door, ignoring the look of despair on his face. Large shoulders sagging, he turned and began a pitiful shuffling toward the door.

      “Oh, quit your blubbering and get back in here, boy,” Nora called after him and turned to glower at me, her happy mood evaporated. “So you knew about this already?”

      I shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t say you’ve given me a lot of chances to tell you, though.” I crossed my fingers mentally. It was only a tiny lie, wasn’t it? Crossed fingers should take care of that.

      “And she didn’t even tell you about the puppy doing a number one on your carpet, either.” Brent sounded proud, looking at me as though I was his hero. “She cleaned it up good, too.”

      “It’s ‘well,’ not ‘good.’” I corrected him automatically, keeping one eye on Nora as I slithered to the farthest end of the sofa. “And yes, it did come out of the carpet without much effort.” I shot Nora a quick glance. “Of course, Karen’s Kleen-Up Krew can take a look at it, if you ask them.”

      “Oh, my word!” Nora slapped her forehead. “I completely forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me.” She glanced at her cell phone. “They should be here in the next ten minutes or so. Brent, did you get the potty patrol finished?”

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