Chapter Twenty-Five
CLINT OPENED HIS door as Aimee stood there, a small bag of ingredients in her hand. It wasn’t going to be pork chops, but it would be edible, nevertheless. She hoped, anyway. He took the bag out of her hands and kissed her cheek as she passed him on her way into the condo, giving Miss Fowler a smile and a nod as he did. The elderly woman just shook her head at him.
An apple-cinnamon candle burned from the entertainment center, sending its aroma floating throughout the small space. Abigail sat in front of the television playing with her dolls on the couch as soft jazz filtered through the sound system. She smiled at the homey feeling that enveloped her.
“Aimee!” Abigail dropped the doll she played with and sprinted around the couch, throwing herself up into Aimee’s ar
