Candy had managed to wiggle out from under Neil and throw on a skirt and tank top before racing out of the bedroom and outside, barefoot, only to see a wide-eyed Ambrose bolting with a bright red geranium sticking out of his mouth. Neil had shouted behind her to wait, but Candy hadn’t listened as she raced down the orange concrete steps, taking in the horror and shocked expression on Neil’s mother’s face as the woman surveyed the yard. Even though the debris from the storm had been cleaned up—well, mostly—the lawn still bore the tire tracks from Neil’s SUV, and for a moment, as she stared at Neil’s mother, Candy couldn’t help but feel responsible for the damage to the once immaculate grounds. This was ludicrous, she realized, except she couldn’t make herself believe otherwise.
Stung by an
