“Are you girls hungry? Thirsty? There’s food in the fridge, wine, beer. Annie said you’d probably be staying three or four days. If you need anything, send me a text. I’ll be back in the morning to make the beds and do the breakfast dishes,” Yolanda informed them.

“That won’t be necessary, Yolanda. Alexis and I can make our own beds and do our own dishes.”

“Miss Annie said whatever you want.”

“Yes, and we want you not to worry about us!” Alexis was very matter of fact. “We’re here to do a little research and relax a bit.”

“Okay, but I will tell Miss Annie you want to be on your own.”

“No problem. We’ll let her know. And we’ll let you know if we need anything. Okay? We really do appreciate everything,” Isabelle reassured her.

“All right. You can text me anytime. Enjoy your stay.” With that, Yolanda left through the kitchen door.

“Looks like that cover-up was right on the money!” Isabelle slapped her friend on the back. “Time for the next costume change! Come on, master of disguise.” She grabbed Alexis’s hand as they marched up the stairs to the guest quarters.

Within the hour, they had unpacked their suitcases and begun the second transformation of the day. Both were happy to be rid of most of the makeup and the toe-pinching shoes and boots, but they were especially thrilled to get out of the padded bimbo outfits. It had made each of them look thirty pounds heavier.

“Remind me never to eat chocolate cake again,” Isabelle muttered to herself.

The newly created “former art students” looked up directions to the nursing home and wrote them on a piece of paper. The nursing home was only minutes away.

It was a very small facility. Only forty beds. The women approached the receptionist’s desk. A very leathery, too-much-sun middle-aged woman looked up. “How may I help you?”

“Hello. We’re former students of Marjorie Brewster. We’re in town for a reunion and heard she was staying here. We wanted to say hello, if that’s possible,” Isabelle informed the woman, who gave her a look of surprise.

“Uh, well, I don’t know. Who did you say you were? Former students?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Alexis asked innocently.

“Uh, Mrs. Brewster has been in a coma for a while.”

“You mean as in coma, coma? Like unconscious?” Isabelle played dumb.

“Yes, that is what a coma is. What did you say your names were?” Leather face, whose name was Jeanne, peered at them.

“Cherie and Mackenzie.” Alexis threw the names out with practiced skill. All the sisters had a slew of aliases they could use in a flash.

“Just a minute.” Jeanne turned and walked into an adjoining office. Isabelle leaned over the counter to get a glimpse of the computer screen, but it was facing away at an angle.