Chapter Fourteen
“What smells so wonderful?” Angela broke in, her face lifting; nose twitching.
Trish shifted in her seat, tested the air. “Don’t worry. Whatever she’s got, it’ll be fattening.”
“Margo mentioned a focaccia on the way over,” Lee said.
Angela leaned forward, the traces of nepotism fading. “A focaccia?”
“Think crunchy pizza crust with seasonings and drenched in olive oil.”
Trish sighed. “See? Told you... Fattening.”
The door opposite swung open and Margo stepped through carrying a tray. The fragrance of freshly baked dough, garlic, rosemary, and olive oil rolled along with her and descended on the women who were seated on the sofa.
Angela quickly got to her feet. “Mmm. I going to get some.” And she gaily skipped away like a nursery rhyme character.
Lee watched her go.
