making it sound as though she’d said “four” dead people. Or maybe that was just my ice-cold ears; I was having trouble getting past her sinister whisper and ghostly embrace. I felt as though I’d spent the last half hour underdressed in a haunted subzero freezer. Debbie bustled in, ready for her usual Tuesday-morning shift, while I was still shivering. “You’re not coming down with anything, are you?” she asked, stopping short when she saw me with my shoulders hunched and rubbing my hands to rewarm them. “I’m still waiting on a couple of the girls to lamb, and I don’t have time to catch a breath, much less a cold.” I shook my hands out and squared my shoulders. “Nope, I’m healthy as a cosseted Cotswold.” “Good.” She turned abruptly and went to put her jacket and purse away. Even though Debbie had told Ardis she would be in, I’d half hoped she would call and say she’d changed her mind. I wasn’t entirely adept at running the shop by myself yet, but by midmorning there were usually two or three TGIF members knitting and gossiping in the comfy chairs grouped here and there around the shop.
