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“I’ll help if I can,” I said. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me—”
Mrs. Plumley raised her voice. “I’ll have to check my list and get back to you later.”
“Who is that?” a voice in the background said.
“The caterer,” Mrs. Plumley said.
“I’ll ask you again,” the voice said. “To whom are you speaking?”
Mrs. Plumley wilted. “One of Xander’s friends.”
“We agreed not to discuss this with anyone,” the voice said.
“I only thought—” Mrs. Plumley said.
He snatched the phone. “Who is this?” he said to me.
“Agnes Quinn. Is this Dr. Plumley?”
“It is. This is a not a convenient time for you to call. My wife is not herself.”
“She asked me to call,” I said, irritated by his tone. “Is Xander all right?”
“No, I’m afraid he is not, and it’s been very difficult on all of us. I’ll say goodbye now.”
“Is there a more convenient time when—?”
The receiver clicked in my ear.
the author, Holly Bebernitz
Texas born and bred, I moved to Jacksonville, Florida, with my parents in 1967. Brought up among mesquite trees and tumble weeds, I still appreciate living in a city on a river, near the sea. After college and a year of traveling with a drama and music team, I came home, got married, had three children, and taught speech, English and later history on the secondary and college levels.
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