Chapter Six
The next morning, Myrtle rose rather late—past four o’clock. She hurried to the window to see if the newspaper was there. Spotting it, she rushed outside to make sure her story was on the front page. It was. Sloan had even found a photo in his archives of Lillian’s flower shop to accompany it. And Wanda’s horoscopes made it in too, of course. In Sloan’s eyes, that was possibly the more important piece to include.
Myrtle carefully set the paper on the kitchen table, where her story could be easily seen. Then she pulled out one of her old cookbooks and searched for soufflés in the index.
“Miles was wrong,” she muttered to herself. “Just basic stuff in these things. Butter, eggs, flour, milk, salt, nutmeg.” She paused. There were quite a lot of eggs in this particular recipe. S
