Junie, my mom and I are at the concierge’s desk. “Three—I mean, two—tickets for a tour of the stars’ homes,” I say. This tour was so meant to be. My mother had already suggested the tour for the three of us. And now I’m hoping it’ll help me figure out what Lorraine and Stef are plotting. “Air-conditioned van or open-top minibus?” the concierge asks. “Whichever one goes past Kira Cornish’s house,” I say. “Kira Cornish?” my mom says. “Since when did you become a fan of hers?” “Very recently,” I say. “Pardon?” the concierge says, alternately staring at me and his computer screen. “We’re interested in seeing Kira Cornish’s house,” Junie says. “Only one company’s allowed up that particular street. Starline, the company that runs the open-top van.” The concierge’s fingers fly across his computer keyboard. “Let’s see if they have seats available. The van only holds ten. And they pick up from other hotels too.” “How come other tour buses can’t go on that street?”
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