“Not as much as Mike knows, but Lonnie knows enough to appreciate this one. I wonder what Norman will think of it.”

“We’ll find out when he gets here.”

“I think you should have Doc take a look at it, too. It’s got all sorts of medical monitors like heart rate and things like that.”

“Do you think I should ask Mother, too?”

“Why bother?” Michelle gave a little laugh. “Mother doesn’t know anything about exercise machines. She never uses them and she doesn’t need them. She just naturally has a perfect figure.”

“I know. If she weren’t my mother, I’d hate her.”

“Me, too. Don’t ask her about the machine, though. I think it would be a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s bound to have an opinion,” Michelle said with a grin. “She’ll tell you that the color on the handlebars clashes with your bedspread.”

Hannah laughed. “You’re probably right, but I’ll show her anyway. I don’t want her to feel left out.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock and gave Michelle a little push toward the living room. “You’d better get a move on if you want to text Lonnie and take your shower before Norman gets here with the food.”

When Michelle left, Hannah cleaned up the kitchen. There wasn’t much mess. She usually rinsed off things after she’d used them so it was simply a matter of placing utensils in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. She was just thinking about pouring herself something to drink when she heard Michelle coming down the hallway.

“What can I do to help?” Michelle asked as she entered the kitchen.

Hannah took one look at her youngest sister and blinked in surprise. Michelle was wearing snug white jeans and the tightest pink lace tank top that Hannah had ever seen. “You can go get a sweater to throw over that tank top.”

“But this outfit won’t look good with a sweater.”

“Do it anyway. Mother’s coming.”

“But what’s wrong with this outfit? This top is Lonnie’s favorite. I think it’s the color.”

Hannah just stared at her sister for a long moment and then she sighed deeply. “You think it’s the color of the tank top?”

“I know it’s the color. Lonnie just loves me in pink.”

“I see,” Hannah said, sighing again. “Go put on something else, Michelle. If you think the color is the only thing Lonnie loves about that tight pink tank top, it’s because it’s cutting off the circulation to your brain.”

As usual, the pizza was great. Bertanelli’s pizza always was. They’d just taken their first few bites when Hannah’s phone rang.

“It’s got to be Mike,” Norman said, and then he turned to Hannah. “Do you want me to get it?”