It took them two times circling the block before Maddy commanded, “Stop here!” She was pointing at a small brick-front cottage set back from the road. There was no name on the mailbox, but a Pontiac parked in the driveway had a bumper sticker that announced QUILTERS ARE NOT SQUARES. “Yep, this has to be the place,” agreed Mark. “That license-plate holder displays the name of a Pontiac dealership in Bloomington.” They parked behind the Grand Prix and walked up to the front door. Before they could press the bell, the door swung open and an elderly woman said, “We don’t buy nothing from door-to-door salespeople.” “Oh, we’re not salespeople,” replied Maddy in his politest tone. “We’re here to speak with your daughter, Mrs. Lazynski.” “Holly’s not here.” “Isn’t that her car in the driveway?” Mark nodded at the Pontiac Grand Prix.
