Chapter 19Confluence, Pennsylvania, 2006At first, and for a while, Celeste thought that she and the others were talking to an old woman.
Such was not the case, strictly speaking.
The confusion could have been avoided if Baron had just told her who the old woman really was...but no. He'd turned bitchy after Paisley's "f**k-man" cracks and had hardly said a word the whole way from Erie to Confluence.
That was why, when the person kneeling in the middle of the giant floral fireman's helmet smiled at her, Celeste didn't realize she was anything but a garden-variety, silver-haired, seventysomething old woman.
"Excuse me." Suddenly, Baron didn't sound the least bit bitchy. "Mary Anne Filigree?"
The old woman looked out from behind sunglasses with green-tinted lenses the size of pizzas.
