She walked stiffly into the dining room, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as if protecting whatever was beneath the thick fabric. I nudged Jeff.
“Something’s not right,” I whispered. “What’s she hiding?”
“I have no idea,” he said.
“Uh, maybe she’s smuggling the turkey she was supposed to bring.”
I rolled my eyes, but his joke didn’t ease the knot of suspicion growing in my stomach. Linda took her seat at the table, but she was jittery.
She barely touched her plate. All I saw her eat was a bit of mashed potatoes.
She also avoided eye contact and gripped her sweater tightly, as though it might slip away if she let it go.Continue reading…
