ADVERTISEMENT
The phone rang at eight-thirty. Vivien’s number.
“Isabella, dear, I forgot to mention—the Sanders’ youngest has a severe nut allergy. You’ll need to remake anything with nuts. I know you usually put pecans on the sweet potato casserole, and I think there are walnuts in one of the stuffings?”
I looked at the three dishes cooling on my counter, hours of continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT