Even though Fran had used the term attractive when describing Joanna Sheppard, Addison was much too smart for that. Believing Fran would have told her anything to get her to this point, Addison had come to her own conclusions about Joanna Sheppard before the woman had opened the door. Addison had painted a picture in her mind, painted being the operative word, and had fully expected to meet an average-looking woman trying her best not to look average. She imagined Joanna Sheppard would have run out to buy new clothes, something slimming to hide her otherwise frumpy and overweight appearance, but also something flashy enough to catch Addison’s eye. With unskilled hands, she would have applied makeup thick and garish hoping to hide her plain features, and after a quick visit to the neighborhood beauty salon, her hair would no doubt be a new color and most likely styled with the help of a can of hairspray.

One tiny splinter of the tremendously large chip on Addison’s shoulder fell away when Joanna Sheppard had opened the door. Unfortunately, with her annoyance distorting her judgment, while the woman wasn’t ugly, as far as Addison was concerned, she wasn’t beautiful either.

In Addison’s eyes, Joanna’s hair was the color of rusty water, and the dark circles under her eyes could have been easily hidden behind makeup if she had cared to try, but apparently she hadn’t. Her eyes couldn’t seem to make up their mind as to whether they were brown or hazel and the slight dimples appearing when Joanna had flashed her smile only added to Addison’s foul mood. As far as Addison was concerned, cherub cheeks and pert noses belonged on baby dolls, not on grown women. And then there were her clothes.

The fabrics of the pale green twinset and wrinkled brown skirt the woman wore displayed pilled threads, and more than one faded stain, and her low-heeled shoes were scuffed and in dire need of replacement. In Addison’s mind, Joanna Sheppard had either no idea how to dress to impress, or she didn’t feel the need, both of which grated on Addison’s last nerve.

After talking with Fran and Millie, Joanna was prepared for Addison Kane’s snobbish demeanor, so when she closed the front door and turned to the women, her expression remained jovial. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Millie,” she said, giving the woman a quick hug. “Are you here for moral support, and if so…whose?” Joanna said quietly, adding a wink.

“I’m here to take notes for Addison, and as for moral support, I’ll give you all I can,” Millie whispered through a smile.

“Thanks,” Joanna said, squeezing the woman’s hand. “I think I’m going to need it.”