town.
I’d wrapped the platter in three thick towels to keep everything warm, driving carefully around every corner because I was terrified of ruining the meal.
And now, before anyone had tasted a single bite, Renee had already found something wrong.
“It hasn’t been sliced yet,” I replied, keeping my voice pleasant. “Maybe we should see what it’s like inside first.”
She gave me one of those tight, artificial smiles I’d learned to recognize over the years.
Then she turned away.
Not a thank-you.
Not a hello.
Not even an
