already mopped this morning.”
I think that was when I knew.
Her mouth tightened.
“Well, clearly you didn’t do a great job.”
I think that was when I knew.
I mean, it all lined up too perfectly, and knowing Mavis, I trusted my gut.
I pulled out my phone and showed it to her.
I sent him another of the sopping wet paper in the bucket.
The photo I’d sent Ryan was still in our messages.
Ninety-six invitations.
Perfectly stacked.
Dead center.
“Mavis.”
“What?”
“That’s almost two feet from the edge.”
“How did they slide from there?”
“I already told you.”
“That’s almost two feet from the edge.”
“I bumped the table,” she said in a high pitch.
“That’s impossible.”
“So you knocked the table hard enough to send all the invites flying, but didn’t even spill a drop from the bucket?”
“I don’t appreciate being interrogated.”
