CHAPTER 4: MOTHER OF INVENTIONOK! thought Lydia. Life and death? Let’s do it.
She strolled toward the water station; checked the pitcher, inspected the glasses. The sandy-haired stranger plopped down in the chair across from Edgar. Her words were inaudible, but she leaned at him across the table like a cat at a mousehole.
When Edgar spotted Lydia, his tiny frown and pursed lips relaxed.
“Yoo-hoo!” He raised his hand. “Waitress!”
His companion glanced around. “When did Leo’s get table service?”
Not annoyed, just curious.
Edgar ignored it, as he did most questions. “Pam Linnell, Lydia Vivaldi. You must try Lydia’s soup. You remember Sue? Vast improvement.” Brushing crumbs off his beard. “Pam is an old friend. Is it still Linnell? What is your name, dear?”
She held out a hand. “Pam Na
