TWENTY-THREE
Brian and Angie arrived at the Forbes’ house a little early. Not that it had been the intention, but traffic was light for a change in Port Orange. Their white house was a spacious ranch with black hurricane shutters, bordered by a lush garden in front and a round one in the center of the driveway that circled in front of the house. It was easy to see how Brian’s mother spent her time now that she had retired. As soon as they pulled to the front door, Mrs. Forbes popped out to the landing. She waved and smiled as they exited the car.
“My, you’re early,” she said.
“Traffic was good for once,” Brian said after he stepped out from his vehicle.
“Hello, Mrs. Forbes,” Angie said, closing the passenger side door. She always felt a little intimidated when around her future mother-
