Myrtle thoughtfully considered the oven. Had it been 375 degrees that she’d cooked that turkey on? She thought so. She preheated the oven and unwrapped the ham and placed it in a pan. It seemed to come with a glaze. How convenient! Would that taste good in the biscuits, though? It should, shouldn’t it? She mixed up the glaze according to the directions and never saw the directions that came for warming the ham.
Once the oven preheated, she put the ham in and picked up the phone to call Miles.
“Is she there yet?” asked Myrtle, still breathless from the exertion of going to the store and manhandling the ham.
“Not yet,” said Miles with a sigh. “I’m really not up to seeing her now.”
“Are you planning on mentioning Wanda and Crazy Dan to her?”
“Why would she even care? It was something her
