Page 11 of Writing On The Wall

“Yup.”

“We’ll have to meet her someday.”

Opal humphs, folding her hands in her lap. “Hopefully she hasn’t been influenced by that old bat, Agnes. That woman is a menace.”

“Hmm,” I hum over a bite of cake, brushing over her last comment. “This is delicious, Gail.”

“Oh good. I’ll send some home with you.”

Opal smacks her tongue, one eye narrowing. “A bit too heavy-handed on the rum, maybe.”

“Oh nonsense, a little rum never killed anyone. Besides, you have to die ofsomething.”

“She’s right.” I look at Opal with a finger pointed toward Gail.

Another eye roll. That must be why she can peer into my soul. Her eyes have been training for marathons with all the cartwheels they do.

I soak in their banter along with the cozy atmosphere of their apartment, trying to store up warmth for the uncomfortable night I have ahead of me.

“This was perfect. Thanks for the booze cake, Gail. Never disappoints.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart. Wait a minute so I can wrap some up for you.”

Gail leaves us, and I’m once again the focus of Opal’s eagle-eyed stare, her eyes glistening with concern. “You’re hiding something, and I’m going to figure it out, young lady.”

My throat tightens slightly as I try to come up with something that will convince her that everything is fine. Thankfully, I’m saved when Gail shuffles back, oblivious to my internalized panic.

“Here you go.” Gail returns with a saran-wrapped slice of heaven. “You shouldn’t need to put it in the fridge till tomorrow.”

That won’t be a problem seeing as I currently have no fridge.

I hug them goodbye before either of them can question me further. Their sassy, petite frames bracket the doorway after I rush out.

“Watch the st?—”

But it’s too late. I nearly faceplant after tripping on the step Gail was attempting to warn me about. By some miracle, my wedges only wobble, and I manage to right myself.

“I’m okay!” I wave back. Gail is hiding a laugh behind her hand while Opal’s arms are folded, eyes still narrowed too perceptively.

“I’m leaving my car here. Don’t let your robin poop on it!” I yell.

“I’ll protect your car if you find that Agnes and tell her to quit stealing my azaleas!”

“You got it.” I throw up a thumb but secretly vow to prevent that from happening at all costs.

I cross the road and stop by the security booth to sign in.Carl smiles widely when I skip closer. I trade him the wrapped plate for a clipboard, and he hums with delight.

“Miss Ivy, marry me?”

“You’re a few decades too late, Carl. But the nice lady who baked that cake is single.”

He leans over to peer across the road behind me. “Single huh?”

“As single as they come,” I confirm once I finish signing in.

“Ayep…that’s how they getcha.”

“With cake?”

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