No, I didn’t actually go streaking through the square. Where did you hear that? No, there wasn’t a flash mob, either. Yes, I’m sure. It’s . . . Wait, how is that disappointing?” Emma pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed gently while she held the phone to her ear with the other hand. Her mother seemed to think the tales of her daughter’s exploits were hilarious, which figured. Andromeda Henry was a warm, giving human being, but she had a twisted sense of humor. Especially, Emma thought, when it came to yanking her elder daughter’s chain. That was at least part of the reason why the beautiful old house Emma had grown up in was always sporting obnoxious colors on the shutters and mailbox. Last year they’d been purple for a while. Currently they were bright green, which was about the color Emma had turned when she’d seen them. Sam thought it was funny. Of course, Sam would. And Andi’s well-to-do neighbors on the Crescent liked it about as well as they usually did, which was to say, not at all.
