Page 103 of Half Baked

She set both bags inside and I closed the lid.

“Come inside the house,” I said, heading for the side door. “I’ll make you some lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, my aunt probably is and given the mood she’s in today, I can’t risk her getting hangry.”

She stopped in her tracks. Her wary look was back. “There’s someone else here?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be here. What if she turns me in?”

“First of all, as far as I know you aren’t on America’s Most Wanted list, and second, she has dementia. She doesn’t even know whoIam today.” My voice hitched a little as I admitted the words out loud.

Some of her apprehension faded. “If you’re Andy’s girl, is your aunt’s name Deidre?”

“Yeah,” I said, opening the door. “That’s her. Come on.” I didn’t wait for her. Instead, I walked across the back yard and went through the kitchen door. I’d left Aunt Deidre alone in the house for too long.

When Gina hadn’t come in after nearly a half minute, I thought perhaps she was going to back out of my garage and drive through the grass to get around my car in the driveway, but she walked in a few seconds later and shut the door. She had a cell phone in her hand and a sheepish look on her face. “I called Artie to let him know I was somewhere safe for now.”

“So you changed your mind about me?”

She shrugged. “I figure if you’re anything like Andrea, you’ll keep your word.”

I gave her a long look. “Thank you.” Her statement struck a chord, and it took me a moment to recover. I’d heard how much I looked like my mom, but this was the first time my character had been linked to hers.

“Thankyou,” she said. “Artie’s grateful too, by the way.” She slipped her coat off and draped it over the back of the chair before she sat down, setting her purse and phone on the table next to her.

“I’m sure the police just want to talk to you,” I said, “not arrest you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done or haven’t done,” she countered. “Ifyou’reasking questions about your mom knowing me, then they have to be digging into the same things. Things I don’t want them digging up.”

That sounded ominous. “You know, hiding from the police isn’t going to make them stop looking for you.”

“Yeah, well, I need some time to figure out what I want to do.” She propped her hands on her hips. “That’s why I agreed to come—to buy more time. So tell me why you’re suddenly asking about your mother and why the police are suddenly lookin’ for me. It can’t be coincidental.”

“Do you like tuna salad?” I asked, ignoring her question. “Aunt Deidre usually likes it, but lately it’s been hit or miss. I could also make some mac and cheese.”

“Maddie,” she said in exasperation. “Why are they lookin’ for me?”

“I promise, if you’re hungry you’re gonna want to eat first.” I settled on tuna anyway and started pulling the ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinet.

“That bad, huh?”

“I’ll let you decide.” I grabbed the can opener, popped the lid on the tuna, then added it to the bowl. “How did you know my mother?”

She shifted in her seat. “From the women’s club.”

“Connie Smelton said that my mother invited you to the group. She also said that Everly Barton kicked you out soon after my mom died.”

Gina rested her hands on the table, twirling her wedding ring around her finger. “That Everly is a downright bitch.”

“I have to agree with you there.”

She looked up with a grin. “Met her, huh?”

“At the November women’s club meeting.” I opened the jar of mayo and turned toward her. “Let’s just say she’s not too fond of me, and the feeling’s mutual.”

“Your mom was trying to change that group. That’s part of the reason she invited me. To make it more accessible to the average women of town. Not the rich bitches.”

“But your husband is a business owner,” I said, then hastily added, “I mean, you probably are too.”

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