Clara Graves, is that you?’ Crap. I almost made it. Clara winced as Mrs. Jordan, the elderly woman next door, waved her cane in the air. “Wait just a minute there, missy.” Missy? Seriously, did anyone outside of sitcoms say “missy”? Apparently Virginia Jordan did. Forcing a smile, Clara turned to face her one-time neighbor. “Hello, Mrs. Jordan. How are you?” The old woman peered at her through thick glasses, her lips pressed together in an unforgiving line. “I am disappointed in you, Clarissa Ann Graves.” Here we go. Years of dealing with advertising clients allowed Clara to maintain a pleasant, neutral expression. “It’s Clara, Mrs. Jordan. I haven’t gone by Clarissa since I came to live with Uncle Gavin. You know that.” Sidetrack the argument. That was the ticket. Distract the woman from whatever she was going to say, then go inside for a shower.
