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gallery. Gonna call the place Mumbo Gumbo. Any chance I could talk you into designing the menus? I want the typography and overall look to have a kind of jumbled scrapbook feel.”
    “Sounds like something I could handle,” replied Carmela. She’d turned him down on designing the new menus for Bon Tiempe and he’d ended up with heavy leather menus and old English type so ponderous looking it rivaled the Magna Carta. So maybe, yeah.
    Carmela set the receiver back in its cradle just as Gabby came scuttling through the front door, carrying a cardboard tray filled with steaming cups of cafe au lait . She trundled the coffee back to the big square table and began passing out cups while everyone murmured thank-yous.
    “Got one for you, too, Carmela,” Gabby called.
    “Be right there,” said Carmela. She grabbed her paper filled with symbols and shoved it into the bottom drawer. She didn’t want Gabby to know what she’d been up to. After all, the symbols or words or whatever they were could be nothing at all.
    Jumping up, Carmela was eager to accept the little cardboard cup from Gabby. But as she held out her hand, she also stared in amazement at the person pushing her way through the front door.
    “Carmela?” said Gabby. At first she thought Carmela didn’t want the coffee. Then, suddenly catching on, Gabby quickly turned and followed Carmela’s surprised gaze.
    “Wren?” cried Gabby, utterly stunned by her cousin’s unexpected appearance at the little scrapbook shop. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
    As if on cue, Baby, Tandy, and Byrle all swiveled their heads to stare at Wren West, who was hesitantly making her way toward them.
    Gabby hurried to meet Wren halfway. “Why honey?” she asked. “What possessed you to come here today?”
    Wren looked subdued yet nervous. “I was just over at Jamie’s store, a couple blocks away,” she explained. “And it was like I could feel his presence.”
    That was enough for Tandy. She leaped from her chair, bounded over to Wren, and swept her up in her skinny arms. “Oh honey,” she urged, “come over here and sit with us. Take a load off.”
    “You should be at home,” murmured Baby, as Tandy hurriedly made room for Wren at their table. “You poor thing.”
    Like mother hens, they began clucking and cooing over Wren, offering their sympathy, their best wishes, and their assistance, should she need it.
    “I really think you should just go home,” worried Gabby.
    Wren shook her head, looking miserable. “That’s Jamie’s place, too,” she said.
    “Oh my,” said Tandy, looking perplexed.
    “Blaine said he’d help me figure out what to do about the property,” said Wren, sipping at the cafe au lait Carmela had given her.
    Tandy’s brows shot up in a question mark.
    “Blaine Taylor,” explained Carmela. “He was Jamie’s business partner. Jamie invented a software program and Blaine was helping him market it.”
    “I didn’t know Jamie had another business besides the bookstore,” said Baby. “How nice.”
    “Ya’ll are treating me like one of those poor sick kids they send to Disneyworld,” said Wren. “Please don’t.”
    “My sincere condolences,” said Byrle, reaching over and gently touching Wren’s sleeve. “Have you thought about funeral arrangements yet? I know we’d all like to attend.”
    Wren bit her bottom lip and shook her head. This was obviously a painful subject for her to talk about. “Not really,” she said. “Jamie didn’t attend one particular church or anything, so I guess I’m just going to have him cremated.”
    “Cremation is very dignified,” said Baby, looking a trifle askance that there didn’t seem to be a formal service looming on the horizon.
    “Then what?” asked Tandy, handing Wren a Kleenex. “Maybe just have a private burial?”
    Wren accepted the Kleenex and gave a defeated shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe . . . lay him to rest with his parents?”
    “They’ve both passed on?” asked