With everyone getting ready for Mardi Gras, I had to wait twenty minutes just to reach the front of the line.“Oh, hi, Benni,” Cathy said, her pale blond hair disheveled, her china blue eyes already glassy with fatigue. “Your costume’s all ready. I hope you like it. It’s one of my new ones.” She called out my name to one of her assistants, who checked it on a computer printout. Two minutes later, she held two plastic maroon garment bags across the counter. “Here’s yours and Gabe’s too. Want to try yours on?”“No time. I trust your measurements. It’s not a cowgirl outfit, right?”“Nope, and it’s very comfortable, I promise.”“Then it’s perfect. Thanks a lot.”I paid, wished her luck with the next few crazy days, and started for my truck. My watch said four o’clock. Since I didn’t have to worry about cooking dinner and Gabe rarely made it home before six o’clock these days, I decided to find a quiet place to look through Maple Sullivan’s scrapbook.The library was definitely the quietest and warmest place to do some uninterrupted reading.
