The LuncheonI clung to Tony's arm, exhausted from my illness, eager to see Joe and Josie, yet afraid at the same time. I was so rude at our last meeting, yet they didn't dare refuse our invitation. Had I offended my friends past forgiveness?
But when our butler John Pearson opened the parlor door, I knew something was terribly wrong.
The parlor itself looked perfectly normal: white paneling, pale blue sofa, white coffee table.
Josephine Kerr sat, face in her hands, alone. She glanced up as Tony and I entered. Her skin was pink, her curly blond hair plastered around her face, her blue eyes red and full of tears.
Now, looking back, I'm ashamed to say that all I thought of was Joe. Where was her twin? My heart began pounding at the thought that something might have befallen him.
I glance
