When Carol arrived at the coffee shop, Angel was chatting with Abby, who was clearly in her usual questioning mood. Great. Carol wasn’t as good as Mitch at evasive conversational tactics—who was?—but hopefully she’d learned something over the last ten years.
“Hola,” Carol said then slid into the chair opposite Abby.
Angel glanced back and forth between Carol and Abby, adjusting the white towel slung over her shoulder. “You two know each other?”
Abby said, “I work with her husband.”
“But we’re friends despite that,” Carol said.
Angel slapped her forehead with her hand. Silver glitter on her nails caught the light. “Duh. One plus one, Angel. Small latte, skim?” she asked Carol.
“Make it a medium mocha, and don’t go skimping on the chocolate.”
“Just for that it’ll be practically solid
