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the house where Henry and I lived when the kids were little, and it’s the course where your Grandpa and I used to go. Even when we moved from that old house and lived closer to other courses, he always drove back to Mirror Lakes.” She paused, sighed. “It’s a special place to him, and to me.”
    Babette knew there was more to this than Granny was telling. She’d carefully averted her eyes as she spoke to Babette, and she’d slid her hands in the pockets of her dress. Babette read her easily; hiding something. But Babette had no idea what.
    “I believe dinner is about ready,” Granny said, and before Babette could determine exactly what question she wanted to ask about Granny’s rejuvenated interest in golf, of all things, the buzzer sounded by the door.
    “I’ve got it.” Babette stood and crossed the room while the square panel continued to blast its annoying sound across the small space. She punched the button and called to the guard station. “Yes?”
    “Ms. Robinson, you have a guest,” Milton said.
    Ms. Robinson?
Babette and Granny Gert looked at each other, both of them knowing this wasn’t Milton’s typical tone, or salutation. Usually, he said, “Babette, so-and-so is here. Want me to send ’em in?” But not this time.
    “A Ms. Kitty Carelle is here to see you, ma’am,” Milton added, enunciating the words as though he suddenly had gone British.
    “Have mercy, did he say what I think he said?
Who
I think he said?” Granny asked loudly. “Kitty Carelle? Here? To see you?”
    The same questions reeled through Babette’s head too, except hers were embellished with an additional name.
Jeff’s ex, Kitty Carelle? Here? To see me?
    “Is Ms. Carelle with you now, Milton?” she asked, using a professional tone.
    “Nope, Babette,” Milton said, lowering his voice and switching back to good ol’ boy mode. He really enjoyed playing guard dog for the neighborhood. “She rolled her window back up. Guess those uppity folks don’t like to sweat in this blissful late April heat. Been a hot one today, hasn’t it? Guess she can’t take it,” he said, then added a sarcastic, “Bless her heart.”
    “Any idea what she wants, Milton?” Babette asked, while Granny swiftly turned off the stove, withdrew the bread from the oven and left the kitchen to stand by Babette.
    “Yeah, what does she want?” Granny echoed.
    “She said she wanted to see Babette Robinson about a business matter. She also said she didn’t have an appointment, but that she didn’t think you’d mind.”
    Babette nodded, swallowed. Two weeks ago, she’d helped Lenora Maxwell, head of the Birmingham Welcome Committee, reconnect with an old flame. Ms. Maxwell had promised to tell her friends of Babette’s talents. Evidently, one of those friends must’ve been Kitty.
    Granny Gert gasped. “Oh, Babette. You don’t think . . . He’s the only guy she’s ever been engaged to,” Granny spouted, adding insult to injury. “But doesn’t she know about you two?”
    “Probably not.” Jeff wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, and since Babette had never been in the society pages—and since that was probably the only way Kitty Carelle would have ever seen her with Jeff or anyone else—then no, the woman most likely had no clue whatsoever that the Love Doctor was Jeff’s ex-ex-flame, sort of.
    Then again, there was a chance that Kitty wasn’t here to talk about Jeff. Or that she wasn’t here to talk about her own relationships. She could be asking about Babette’s services for a friend; that’d happened a few times, particularly with women who were well-known in the community. They didn’t want people knowing there were any problems in their love lives, so they had someone else ask Babette about her services.
    Yeah, that could be it.
    “Lord have mercy,” Granny whispered, “What are the odds?”
    Babette silently repeated the sentiment. Who was she kidding? Kitty wasn’t here for someone else, or for some other