Eternally 21 by Linda Joffe Hull

Author:Linda Joffe Hull [Hull, Linda Joffe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, cozy, fashion, shopping, coupon, extreme couponing, amateur sleuth, woman sleuth, mystery fiction, couponing, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
Published: 2013-04-02T13:00:00+00:00

26. If you don’t eat it before it goes bad, you’ve wasted your money, so be sure to shelve multiples of the same item the same way your grocer does—nearest expiration date in front.

Sixteen

In the dream, Anastasia Chastain stood in my kitchen wearing my apron, a pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos I’d gotten for 70% off, short shorts, a leopard-print tank top, and red lipstick.

She was serving last night’s singed, black lasagna to Frank and my sons.

“Love it,” FJ said, between heaping mouthfuls.

“More!” Trent said, handing her his plate. “I love it.”

Frank looked up at her adoringly. “I love you, Mrs. Frank Fruga-

licious.”

“But I’m Mrs. Frank Frugalicious!” I began to choke on the thick, acrid lasagna smoke permeating the room. “Not her.”

Everyone stopped chewing and turned to glare at me.

“Weird,” Trent said. “But it explains that whole bargain shopping room of yours.”

“Burned,” FJ said.

“I thought you were going to stay out of it,” Frank said. “You don’t belong here in the first place.”

Griff materialized out of nowhere beside me and tipped his Mountie hat. “Guilty as charged.”

Anastasia giggled, smiled her kewpie-doll smile, and offered Griff a plate of lasagna flambé. “Told you she was a person of interest.”

“I’m just helping the police,” I tried to say through the thick smoke.

When the room cleared, I’d been transported from what used to be my house to the mall security office, where one of my hands was cuffed to the leg of a table.

I picked up the ringing phone beside me with the other.

“Lasagna,” Eloise said, in lieu of a greeting.

I looked around the room. Wrappers, tin foil, Styrofoam clamshells, and pizza boxes covered every table and desk, but there wasn’t a crumb of actual food anywhere. “No lasagna.”

“But I need it,” Eloise wailed.

“Why can’t you understand?” I screamed. “We’re all out of burnt lasagna!”

“Love it. I love it.” She materialized beside me, grasped my shoulders, and began to shake me. “I love—”

“Eloise!”

“Maddie?” Her voice transformed into Frank’s.

The shaking continued.

“Maddie, wake up!”

I forced my eyes open and tried to fight my way back to consciousness by focusing on the ray of sunlight brightening the Restoration Hardware beige walls, antique sleigh bed, and Italian vintage bedding I’d furnished our bedroom with while we could still afford such extravagances.

Frank, dressed for the gym in a Puma T-shirt, shorts, and those damned sunglasses, had his hands on my shoulders. “You were having a nightmare or something.”

“Or something,” I managed.

“You just said Eloise.”

“Eloise,” I repeated, as the last cottony tendrils of my dream state gave way to the equally dubious here and now. I glanced at the clock and realized Frank, who never missed his morning workout, should have been long gone, and I should have still been asleep. I’d been awake most of the night with the smell of the lasagna I’d burnt in my nose and thoughts of everything I’d heard all day tumbling through my head.

“I talked to her,” Frank said.

My heart began to thump. I’d love it. I love it. I love you.

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