Chris covered her mouth to keep from laughing. This promised to be even better than the demolition of John Farrell.

Edna leaned forward in eager anticipation. “You got a steady job?”

Ken turned to Chris; his eyes danced with diabolical delight. The silent message was blatant: Feed me to the wolves, will you? When he turned back to Edna his face was a solemn mask. “I was supposed to start a new job today, but as you can see…” He waved his arm pathetically in front of him. “I’ve got a broken arm. I can’t work with this cast on.”

Edna sucked in her breath. “And all because you stopped to help my niece. Isn’t that noble? Don’t that beat all?”

Chris pressed herself deeper into the sofa cushions and surreptitiously made a motion that said she might gag. “Noble,” she croaked.

Ken stole a smug look in Chris’ direction. He toyed with a vanilla wafer.

“What a pity,” Edna went on. “How will you get by?”

“I have some savings.”

“A man with a savings account. Now that’s character,” she told her niece. “Seems a shame to have to dip into your savings on account of us. I feel just terrible about this.”

A knot was developing in Chris’ stomach. This wasn’t taking the usual course. By this time Aunt Edna should have had him in a sweat, but Ken was looking more pleased by the minute. And he was planning something sneaky-Chris was sure of it.

Ken stretched and relaxed deeper into the couch. “This is a nice room.”

Chris blinked at the sudden change in conversation. There was none of the earlier affectation. He seemed genuinely impressed. I don’t trust him, she thought. He’d been leading up to something. She sat up warily and paid close attention, watching his eyes as they observed the room.

It was an airy room with ivory walls and matching sheers. The plush wall-to-wall carpeting was a warm beige tone. The few pieces of furniture were comfortably overstuffed and covered in earth-tone tans with the exception of a cocoa-and-white houndstooth check wingback chair.