But it was. Mel VanDyne had been her first timid venture back into the world of romance after being widowed, and she'd been humiliated when he never called back after the ill-fated dinner. She'd beat herself up about it for weeks. What had she expected? He was younger than she, extraordinarily good-looking, and sophisticated in the real world. She, on the other hand, was domestic to the eyebrows, wallowing in children, pets, recipes, cleaning products, and PTA committees. What possible interest could a handsome bachelor have in her? And yet, she'd been instrumental in helping him solve a couple of crimes, and the reason she was able to help was that she understood the suburban life that she was so thoroughly a part of and he didn't. Still, he had probably regarded that as a helpful- trait, not a sexy one.

“You aren't going back, are you?" Jim was asking.

It took a second to hoist herself out of her reverie.

"You mean to class? Sure. Missy's a terrific teacher."

“Besides, we're committed now," Shelley said. "We've been summoned to dinner at Pryce's tomorrow. A sort of royal command."

“We have?"

“Jane, I'm worried about you," Shelley said. "Don't you remember? Where is your mind? Mrs. Pryce announced that we would all meet for dinner at her house. You even asked if there was anything you could bring."

“I must have been on autopilot. Whenever people talk about getting together, I go into my casserole mode. What did I offer to cook?"

“A quiche," Shelley said.

“What? I don't know how to make quiche. I'd never volunteer that."

“No, it was assigned you. I was assigned a fruit salad—no pineapple. Don't you really remember?" "I guess it is ringing a faint bell."

“I'll make your quiche, Jane," her mother offered. "I've got a great recipe that uses chicken and asparagus—"

“You don't mean you're all really going to her house, do you?" Jim said. "Why would she invite you, anyway?"