Marla twirled and reached deftly for the butcher block containing the kitchen’s cutting utensils. Now why hadn’t I thought of that? It took her less than five seconds to pry out the first piece of pie. When she cried, “Oh, goody, cherry! My favorite!” I skedaddled out of there.
The snow was still falling relentlessly, and after three seconds out in the cold, I raced back inside and asked Marla if I could borrow her mink. Since I caught her red-handed and red-mouthed as she forked in mouthfuls of pie, she merely nodded. I slipped into the luxuriant fur and was immediately amazed at how heavy the doggone thing was. No wonder it took ermine-sporting royals forever to march up to their altars to be crowned.
Maybe it was the mink that made Neil Tharp pause as he made his slow way across the p
