The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

feeling like a fool in old-man slippers.

“I apologize,” I said.

She dropped her hands.

“For opening it?”

“For that. And for what I said.”

She gave a small laugh.

It had no joy in it.

“Which part?”

“The part where I was wrong.”

“That’s a lot of parts, Mr. Whitaker.”

Fair enough.

I nodded.

Then I noticed the kitchen clock.

3:42 p.m.

A timer beeped.

Kayla moved like continue reading …