The front door bells jingled, distracting me from grilling Simon about what happened. I half turned before my gut lurched and everything about my day turned to ash and gray. I'd done my best to avoid the stunning ice blonde in the perfect yellow suit who simpered on her clicky clacking high heels into the flower shop with her giant designer glasses perched on the end of her pointed nose and so far I'd succeeded. Just the odd chance glance across a crowded street or over the windshield of her little red convertible. But this was the first time since I moved home I actually came face to face with the one person in Reading I would gladly have trade places with Pete Wilkins.
If the way she pulled down her glasses with overly pointed and painted manicure nails and glared at me was any indicati
