Chapter 4Lydia carefully arranged some sandwich triangles on a plate, and then had to make a quick cursing grab as it nearly slipped out of her sweaty hands.
“Had to open your mouth, didn't you? Couldn't just make an excuse?” Muttering under her breath, she made her way carefully out of the kitchen into the dining room, where she placed the sandwiches next to the other plates, one piled with cut fruit, and the third with jam thumbprint cookies. “I should just forget about this group and let them find somewhere else to meet… and eat. Why am I contributing to this nonsense?”
Of course, it's too late now. She'd taken a stand and she would have to defend it. And bare my soul to stupid Ilse Jackson. Lydia sighed, inflating her full bosom to nearly obscene proportions, modest neckline or no.
