They arrived at her apartment, and as usual, Alma was home cooking. For some reason, cooking and Alma never really mixed, but that never stopped her. She still tried, every time. And that was one of the things Abbie loved about her. Alma was a fighter, never one to back down, not even from a frying pan.
Abbie stepped inside with Keith following close behind. Predictably, Alma’s eyebrows shot up, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
“So, how are you two together again?” she asked, a mischievous glint dancing across her face. “Didn’t you go to Tremblant for that gig with Francis?”
Ah, Francis. She remembered. He’d left in a rush the night before, something about his cousin getting into a fight with a co-worker. She wondered how he was doing, both of them, actually. She’d wanted to tell him tha
