. . what did I tell you?” Edie Steiber slapped the newspaper down on the counter in front of Lucy, practically sticking Lucy’s nose in it . . . in her usual, subtle manner. Lucy had dropped in at the Schooner on her way home to the cottage for an extra dose of caffeine. She needed a boost to face the mountain of old clothes in the guest room waiting to be sorted out for charity and a mountain of work she had to finish over the weekend that waited in her office. As she waited for the coffee, longer than she wanted to, she was not sure what Edie was ranting about. She looked down and gave the article a glance, knowing she wouldn’t be served until she at least feigned some interest. “I knew that At-Las investment offer was too good to be true. My big toe was tingling. I’m glad I followed my own good advice and didn’t listen to that kid who handles my portfolio.” While Edie squawked about airhead financial advisers and greedy, shameless hucksters robbing the life savings from vulnerable old people like herself, Lucy tried to translate the business jargon of the news article.
