The First Four by Sheila Horgan

Author:Sheila Horgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: family, fun, sisters, amateur sleuth, series, humorous mystery, discounted, bundled, sheila horgan, light mystery, tea series
Publisher: Sheila Horgan

TWO

I DECIDED TO drive over to Bernie’s house and pick some of her flowers instead of buying them at the store. I think Bernie would like that. My sister Troya is living in the house now, so I didn’t need to call for permission or anything.

I drove up to the little house, my sister’s car nowhere to be found. Knowing Troya, she wouldn’t have it in the garage, because the garage would be full of stuff she hasn’t unpacked yet. Troya is a staging person, and it has only gotten worse since she started nursing school. I’m pretty sure she’s using the garage as a triage zone, sorting through her belongings, deciding which should be attended to first.

I leaned over to grab my scissors out of the glove box. What does it say about me that I carry a pair of scissors in my glove box? I guess it says I have a history of needing scissors in my car. Mostly for wrapping last-second gifts on the way to a party. Being that I am normally very organized, the whole last-minute gift thing is an exception, not an eccentricity.

I understand it would appear to most people who know me that I’d be the kind of person who would have the gift shopping and wrapping done well in advance of the actual gift-giving event. I’ve had this conversation with Teagan, more than once. The reason I end up wrapping gifts at the last second is that I enjoy finding very personalized gifts for the people I care about, and there are times those gifts come to your attention when they are least expected.

One example? A stuffed church mouse for my nephew. You can always tell a church mouse from a regular mouse. Their arms are slightly longer, so they can fold their hands in prayer, and they have teeny tiny calluses on their knees from kneeling a lot. That was a well-planned gift and sat in my house for a while.

Another time it was a hooker for a sixteen-year-old male friend of the family. You should have seen the look on his mother’s face when I told the kid that I’d paid for a hooker since he was officially on his way to man-dom. I guess it says something about me that his mother panicked for just a second. A hooker is fishing tackle in this case. I saw the package, thought it was the perfect gift, and wrapped it up in a bigger box, along with a savings bond, because if you have something as exciting as a hooker to brag about, you should also have something a little more conservative to balance it out.

Then there are the gifts you get just because. Not for a birthday or an occasion, but because you see the perfect thing for someone, so you grab it, and sometimes that means you wrap it up last second in the car. I have an all-weather mat in my trunk; I keep several different sheets of

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