Page 16 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

“From the agency.”

“She, um…” Dorothy looked down at her feet, then back to me. “She’s not here.”

“She’s not?”

“Where is Ellen?”

“She left this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Yes.”

“Whose car is that out front?”

“That’s Miss Thompson’s car.”

“Miss Thompson.”

“Yes.”

“Ashley Thompson?”

“Yes.”

“She’s back,” I stated the obvious.

“She was.”

“She was?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“Where is she now?”

“Home, I presume.”

“Why is her car here?”

Again, I knew that Dorothy wasn’t being deliberately difficult even though this conversation was like pulling teeth if the teeth were superglued and cemented in someone’s mouth.

“It broke down after they returned from the pier.”

“The pier? Who went to the pier?”

“Miss Thompson and Mrs. Wolfe.”

“They went to the pier?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Thompson took my grandmother to the pier in that thing?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t Fred drive them?”

“Miss Thompson offered to drive.”

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