“Hello, we’re from Bride’s Little Helpers.” They spoke at the same time, and it was like listening in stereo. After not liking the pushy, opinionated wedding planners she met, Angie decided to move in a completely different direction and contacted a firm that described their services as providing assistance in the planning of a wedding, and fulfilling the bride’s every dream. She contacted them that morning and, to her amazement, they said they would be there in an hour. And they were. The two looked nothing alike beyond their blond hair, blue eyes, and too much red lipstick. Angie showed them to her living room as they oohed and aahed over her lovely apartment and view that stretched from the Golden Gate Bridge across the north bay and Alcatraz all the way to the Bay Bridge. Angie cringed as they headed towards her Cezanne but they either didn’t know the artist or didn’t care about the lithograph because they continued past it without a word. They sat on the sofa and Angie took the yellow Hepplewhite chair.
What do You think about Cooking Spirits: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries)?
