“It bothers me, Lola, that none of her so-called friends have called. I think we might need to worry about that a little bit,” the roly-poly Anthony said.

“I don’t have time to worry, Anthony. I just have time for action. Now, let’s put our heads together and see how we can shake things up. Maybe it’s time for me to do that interview the Indigo Sentinel is always pestering me about. I could introduce Cady to the reporter, have them take her picture, that kind of thing. We’ll say she’s helping me with my memoirs, and there is a possible movie deal in the works. I still have that defunct production company, don’t I?”

“Yes. You pay the taxes every year.”

“Good, then it won’t be a lie. We’ll say the memoirs will be right up to the present and encompass Cady’s accident and how we’re going to investigate it vigorously. We’re going to have to fix me up so I don’t look so…deadly. We can do that, can’t we, Mandy?”

“Of course we can do that. We know all of Hollywood’s makeup tricks. When do you want me to schedule the interview?”

“The day after tomorrow. Let’s not tell Cady until the last minute. Lord, I have to think about what I’m going to wear. What do you think, Mandy?”

Mandy smiled. She hadn’t seen Lola so excited in years. “Depends if you want to look like a grandmother, a recluse gone to seed, or a movie star. Why don’t we schedule it for late in the afternoon and have an English tea? Well?”

“A movie star, of course. English tea will be wonderful. We haven’t had scones in ages. Why is that, Anthony?” Anthony and Mandy took turns cooking, but Anthony’s culinary expertise far outshone Mandy’s. Consequently, Anthony did most of the cooking.

“Because you don’t like scones, Lola. You like English muffins with grape jelly along with your decaffeinated tea.”

Lola squirmed in her nest of quilts. “I had no idea getting old was going to be so painful. I’m afraid, Mandy. I’m getting like Cady. I understand her fear. There are so many things I haven’t done, things I still want to do. Why did this happen to me? I’m not ready yet. I thought I would be able to handle all of this, but I’m not. If I tell you a secret, will you promise never, ever, to tell anyone?”

“Of course, Lola,” Mandy said, sitting down on the bed. She reached for Lola’s hand and squeezed it.

“You can hear, too, Anthony. I thought when it was my time to go, my son would come and be at my side, and he would pray with me. That isn’t going to happen because he’s a damn quack. I don’t want him spewing some lingo he picked up out of some trashy book. I thought he would know all the words that would make it right. It always happens that way in the movies. Then at the end you see a bright light, and those left behind know you’re in a better place. There isn’t anyone to tell me the words.”