Chapter Twelve
Less than two minutes later, Beatrice heard a merry tap of a car horn outside. At least she’d had the chance to comb her hair before she got there. She was in the process of locking her door behind her when Meadow hollered from the car, “Hold up! Before you lock up and get in the car, put your pie in your fridge.”
The pie, Beatrice knew, would be worth it. It would be creamy and the vegetables would have been picked by Meadow herself in her very own garden. She took the pie from Meadow.
“Meadow,” she said as she finally climbed into the car, “this is another of those times when I feel badly because you’re bringing someone food and I’m not.”
“For heaven’s sake! Don’t feel bad. We’re going to tell Lois that this pie is from both of us,” said Meadow as she backed rather spe
