to read the file on Grove Spirit House while I waited for Bill to take me to dinner.
Before I could make myself comfortable, a knock sounded at the front door. Expecting Bill, I opened it without checking the peephole.
Caroline breezed past, down the hall and into my living room. She clutched a stack of bridal magazines in one arm and held a Neiman Marcus shopping bag overflowing with fabric samples in her other hand.
“Finally,” she said with a note of triumph. “We’ve got to plan this wedding.”
I gazed past her, expecting to see my mother bringing up the rear. The parking lot and front walkway were empty. The only good thing about Caroline’s visit was that she was alone.
With nowhere to run and no place to hide, I followed her into the living room.
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