At eight-thirty sharp, a half hour before they were due to open for business, both Andrea and Delores had joined them in the kitchen. Hannah had been dreading this wedding planning meeting, but Delores had kept her word. She’d chosen the flowers, yellow roses, and decided that the bridesmaid dresses should be ice blue, a shade lighter than the brushed satin suit she planned to wear. The wedding colors would be yellow and blue, two of Doc’s favorite colors. She’d even decided on the tableware, invitations, place cards and decorations, and the menu for the reception dinner. All this had taken less than ten minutes. It seemed that Delores had planned it all out right after Hannah had concluded their mother-daughter talk. Everything was set in stone. Delores had sworn to that. And the pressure was off for the Swensen-Knight nuptials as far as Lisa and all three of the Swensen sisters were concerned.

Hannah was smiling as she drove down the city streets. Everything had gone beautifully so far. She could only hope that this afternoon with one of Keith Branson’s prostitutes would go equally well.

“I think this is the place, dear,” Delores said, interrupting Hannah’s happy thoughts. “Yes! I’m sure it is!”

“Where?” Hannah asked, slowing the car.

“Over there on the left, right next to the car wash. Do you think that’s the green Chevy van that Stella told us about?”

“It could be. Let’s drive by and see. If they pull out and follow us, we’ll know it’s them and they picked us up.”

Hannah drove by slowly, as if she were looking for a parking spot. They hadn’t gone more than a few yards before the green van backed out of its spot and began to follow them. “It’s them,” she said to Delores, slowing so that the van could pass them.

“How do you know?”

“They’re too polite. Any other driver would have honked at me for going so slow.”

Hannah followed the van for about a mile before they pulled over and stopped. Stella had told them to drive forward half a block and park. Then they were supposed to wait while the two officers drove past the block where Keith Branson’s girls worked and came back to reconnoiter with them.

“I don’t look too prim and proper, do I, dear?” Delores asked, flipping down the mirror on the visor and glancing at her reflection.

“Prim and proper?” Hannah turned to look. Delores was wearing a pair of designer jeans and a silk blouse. “No, Mother. You don’t look prim and proper at all. But you may look a little too . . .” She paused to think of exactly the right word.

“Too what, dear?”

“Too . . . fashionable.”

“But I deliberately dressed down!”

Hannah laughed. “Yes, but your idea of dressing down is most people’s idea of dressing up.”