Chapter Two
Later that night, Mike lifted the lid off the simmering pot of spaghetti sauce, picked up the spoon, and stirred. The pasta was finished, salads made, and garlic bread sliced. He glanced at the clock—six fifty-eight. Ruth should be here any minute.
Sure enough, the sound of a brisk knock on the door told him his big sister had arrived for the weekend. He placed the spoon on the counter next to the stove and turned off the burner. Pulling free the dish towel he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he placed it on the counter as well. A frown creased his brow when he heard Ruth knock again, this time louder than before.
“The door’s unlocked,” he called as he exited the kitchen and headed across the living room to the front door. He gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and
