Chapter 3First thing the next morning, Mitch showed up at the Behr office and said he’d put in a bid for the steak house. He was pretty sure he’d be buying it, so he wanted us to know he’d be needing our services. He also wanted to find a good interior designer in Stone Acres.
I hooked him up with Fredi Zimmer, our local legend, the guy who’d first made the town council realize its little straight-white-men Shangri-la was about to crumble.
“My, my, my! Who have we here, Ben?” Fredi clung to Mitch’s handshake like he’d never let go.
If Fredi weren’t married, I would have been worried about Mitch—or Fredi, I’m not sure which. As it was, I just smirked at Mitch’s startled look and, God help me, winked at the big guy. Now Mitch looked slightly amused, which made me break out laughing.
When
