Chapter EightAnother cold morning. Warming up the Morris, Lydia realized she was four minutes early. Just enough time to go find Carlo and Caroline’s studio.
From the tidbits she’d collected at the Back End, she knew where to look. Carlo and Caroline had bought the original Quansett Town Hall years ago, out from under a wrecking ball. Over time, they’d transformed an eighteenth-century shell into a designer showcase.
What was Raymond Ropes’s phrase? “Bohemian crap”?
Lydia had resolved last night not to trip over her personal feelings while she followed the directions on DeAnne’s postcard. That’s all this was, right? Granting a friend’s last request. Not opening any can of worms.
She took a right up Main Street, away from Leo’s, toward the library and fire station. That must be it, behi
