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work for him? She gripped the phone tighter.
    He went on. “Gran hasn’t been her usual self since the accident. Like she’s been eating Snickers for breakfast, skipping her cholesterol pills, and…”
    “And what?”
    “She stole my Harley and took it for a ride.”
    “Oh, that. She told me about it.” She relaxed a little, feeling more on solid ground here.
    “She did?”
    “Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure she stays safe and makes good choices from now on.”
    “Thanks. Don’t be afraid to call if something happens.”
    She sat up straighter. “I’m not afraid to call you. Why would I be afraid to call you?” He does know something. I knew it.
    “Uh, no reason. Good luck tomorrow.”
    Calm down , she told herself. The only reason he rattled her was The Humiliation, which, so far, he seemed to have no memory of.
    “We’ll be fine,” she said confidently. That much she knew for sure.
    “All right then. Bye.”
    “Bye.” She hung up and bolted to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. She held the frosty glass against her forehead. How could the man get her worked up over the phone? It was ridiculous. She closed her eyes and did some deep breathing until she found her usual calm composure once more.
    ~ ~ ~
    Liz drove to Mrs. O’Hare’s house shortly before nine a.m. the next day as per the older woman’s text. She seemed to be very tech savvy. She’d already sent Liz a friend request on Facebook last night. Her Facebook page had a lot of pictures of her knitting projects—sweaters, shawls, hats, scarves, mittens, blankets. Her grandsons were well kept in wool from the look of things. Maybe Mrs. O’Hare could teach her how to knit and they could spend some time this summer knitting together.
    When she pulled into the driveway, Mrs. O’Hare was already standing on the porch, dressed all in black—black T-shirt, black shorts, black socks pulled up to her knees. A pink scarf tied around her neck and white sneakers stood in stark contrast.
    “Right on time,” Mrs. O’Hare called, making her way down the front steps. She got into Liz’s car. “Good morning!”
    “Good morning, Mrs. O’Hare, cute outfit. Where are we heading?” She’d mentioned something in her text about some “serious shopping,” so Liz figured it was either the mall or the outlet center about a half hour away.
    “Please call me Maggie. We are friends now, right? No need to be so formal. Head over to Eastman.”
    Must be the mall . “You got it.”
    “How’s your family?” Mrs. O’Hare asked.
    “My parents are good; business is good at Garner’s.”
    “And I heard you’re going to be an aunt! Congratulations!”
    Word is definitely out. Guess I don’t have to keep it secret anymore.
    “Thank you. How’d you hear about it?”
    “My friend told me after church on Sunday. Babies are a lot of work, but, oh, what a blessing.”
    Liz pulled up to a red light. “Well, yeah, but don’t they sleep a lot?”
    “It depends what kind you ordered. I ordered a sleeper, but I got a colicky, up-all-night brand. Can’t return ’em though.” Maggie laughed.
    Liz smiled. “My mom always said Daisy and I were easy babies, so hopefully this baby will be too.”
    Maggie patted her arm. “You keep thinking that, dear.”
    They chatted amiably as Liz drove, about babies and some of the cute hats Maggie had knitted for friends’ babies over the years: strawberry hats, pumpkins, watermelons. Liz told her about the baby registry she was setting up for Daisy, and the importance of buying items that were BPA- and phthalate-free because babies put everything in their mouths. She’d already read two books on babies, and it felt good to share her new knowledge with someone. Daisy never wanted to hear it.
    Before she knew it, they were at the mall.
    “What are you doing?” Maggie asked.
    “Parking.”
    “No, I didn’t say go to the mall. Turn around. We have to go further up on the highway over by the car dealers.”
    Liz