Chapter Seven
MYRTLE WAS JUST FINISHING up her crossword when her own doorbell rang.
“Hi there,” she said cheerily to Miles. He was holding a tote bag and had a rather grim expression.
He carefully carried the tote bag to the kitchen as Myrtle followed behind him, a smile tugging at her lips. Miles unpacked Sherry’s blueberry pound cake loaf, a plate of cookies, lemon bars, crustless pimento cheese sandwiches, and a casserole.
“Gracious, what a lot of goodies,” said Myrtle, rubbing her hands together. “Are you sharing?”
“Of course I am. There’s no way a person living on their own could be expected to eat this much food before it went bad. But I’d like to hear an explanation for this unprecedented generosity by our fellow book club members.”
Myrtle took down a couple of plates from he
