As I’d expected, she welcomed Connor’s return with about the same enthusiasm the residents of Hamelin must have greeted their town’s infestation of rats. Still, she did agree to let us come over around five-thirty, which was about all I could ask for. And when we arrived at the apartment, I saw that, being Rachel, she’d set out a pitcher of iced herbal tea and scones she’d baked that morning, along with a bowl of strawberries.
“Thanks for all this,” I said, putting a scone and a strawberry on one of the small dessert plates she’d put on the coffee table with the rest of the refreshments.
She shrugged, but I couldn’t help but notice the way her expression softened as Connor bit into one of the scones, chewed in apparent ecstasy, and said, “Wow, Angela, now I really understand how you turn
