“Here is the problem, Mrs. Campbell.” Lauren indicated the open window with one hand and then replaced it to its permanent position, clasped with the other. She took two steps on her high heels, making Lacy wonder if her clothes ever wrinkled or if she ever teetered on those stilts. She had no clue what the crazy woman was talking about. The screen was over the window protecting her from insects; a nice northwestern breeze was drifting in keeping the room cool. The cushion and all the pillows on the window seat were clean. Okay, maybe the one had a stain, but it was on the other side and very small. Staring as though she were looking in the refrigerator wondering what to make for dinner, Lacy inspected the area for clues. Lauren watched her with what Lacy thought to be perplexity or anticipation; it was hard to be certain. “I’m sorry, Miss Michaels, but I don’t understand-“ “Shhh!” Lacy backed up with the urge to fling her hands up in surrender.
What do You think about Lacy (The Doves Of Primrose)?
