cell phone rang. I rummaged past the baby paraphernalia in the diaper bag and pulled out my phone. The caller ID read Paula’s number.

“Hi,” I mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarm in her voice.

“Nothing. Just shopping.”

“For what?” she asked suspicious.

“PJs.”

“For you or for Laurie?”

I sighed. “Me.”

“No! Not pajamas! How many pairs have you bought?”

“None yet.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“At Bed Head and More.”

“Drop the PJs and step away from the counter right now!”

“I found a pair I really like. Well, two, but Laurie didn’t seem so fond of one of them.”

“Don’t buy them. You’ll wear them for weeks and never get out of that mood.”

“I’m not in a mood,” I said.

Paula knew me too well. If I was seriously down in the dumps, shopping for new pajamas seemed to help. Nothing would comfort me more than a cozy pair of new pajamas.

“Do you think they have footed pajamas for adults?” I asked.

“What?”

“You know, like the kind for kids with the feet. Do they make them for adults?”

“Yeah, that sounds really sexy, Kate. You’ve gone off the deep end. Come over immediately.”

“No. I’m going to buy these, go straight home, and snuggle up in them. They’re fleece and fuzzy and super-warm. I’ll sleep all week in them, lounge on the couch with Laurie in my lap, and eat bonbons if I want to. I’m going to—”

“Shut up, you nut. You’re a mom now, you can’t indulge your every whim. Like Laurie is going to let you sleep at all, much less for a week. And Jim? And what about Thanksgiving, you have too—”

“I’m hanging up now. I’m going to buy them. Both pairs and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I snapped my phone shut and found my size in both pairs. I turned the stroller toward the counter, and Laurie’s puppy fell to the floor. I picked it up, wiped the drool off it onto my jeans, and shoved it into the diaper purse. When I wheeled Laurie up to the counter, the store phone rang.

The girl working smiled at me as she held up her index finger. “Just a second.” She picked up the phone. “Thank you for calling Bed Head and More, may I help you?”

I perused the fashion jewelry while waiting. I picked up a pair of silver earrings and held them to my ear, evaluating them in the mirror behind the counter.

“Uh . . . yes. She’s right here,” said the girl. “Do you want to talk to her?”

She seemed to be referring to me, but that couldn’t be right. I glanced over my shoulder. There was no one else in the store.

She must be referring to another employee in the back or something.

“Oh. Okay,” she said into the phone.

I replaced the silver earrings and picked up a pair made of delicate pink beads.

How old did Laurie have to be to get her ears pierced?

“Oh!” The girl’s voice dropped several octaves and her eyes darted up at me then down again.

What was going on?

I put the beaded earrings down and wheeled Laurie up to the counter. Now, it was just plain annoying. The girl was obviously having a personal conversation and I was meant to wait it out.

Well, nope. I had some serious lounging around to catch up on. So, she’d better get her butt in gear and check me out.

I placed my pajamas on the counter and smiled. The girl kept her eyes down and almost ducked her head.

“Uh-huh,” she said into the phone. “Okay.” She hung up and looked at me. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.”

“What?” I looked at my watch. “It’s one fifteen in the afternoon.”

She blinked. “Yeah. Sorry.”

We stared at each other in an awkward moment. My cell phone rang.

“You called the store, didn’t you?” I said into the phone.

The clerk smiled.

“Yeah. Come over,” Paula said.

“No!” I exclaimed as stubbornly as I could.

“I’m trying out a new recipe for pumpkin pie.”

“Okay.”

I sat in Paula’s kitchen, stirring the hot cocoa she’d made me and staring out into her garden. Her once green grass had yellowed and all the pots were empty. Keeping up the garden while she’d been away had been too much of an effort to coordinate, so she’d let it go—which, knowing Paula, had probably killed her.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said, cutting me a piece of the still steaming pie. “The police have a hard time closing cases, why shouldn’t you?”

Danny ran into the kitchen holding a plush blue ball and screamed, “Ball!”

I put my hands out to collect it