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maybe—”
    “Terrific. Do you have a card?”
    “No, I… not yet. If you have something to write on, I’ll give you my cell number.”
    “Great.” He opens a drawer and promptly produces a pen and pad. “You’re going to love it here.”
    Feeling oddly territorial, she wants to remind Brad that
she’s
the one who grew up in Glenhaven Park… and
he’s
the newcomer.
    “I’ll have Olympia call you,” he promises. “And not just about Sophie’s voice lessons—my wife is very plugged in. She’ll introduce you to everyone.”
    Meg murmurs that that would be nice, but again, she’s struck by the implication that she’s the outsider in her own hometown. And how plugged in can someone be after only six weeks?
    “Do you have any kids?” Brad is asking as he walks her to the front door.
    “One. A daughter. She’s fifteen.”
    “Terrific. Sophie can show her around.”
    Right. Meg can imagine how that will go over with Cosette. A thirteen-year-old would-be starlet introducing her to small-town life.
    Oh, well. As soon as Meg finds a place for them to live, and she and Cosette are settled in, she’s positive they’ll both feel right at home here.
    Outside, she finds Kris chatting through her open car window with the driver of a Hummer Alpha that’s pulled up alongside. Cosette is still tuned out in the backseat, masked by sunglasses and plugged into her iPod.
    “Oh, Meg, there you are. This is my friend Laurelle Gladstone.” To Meg’s surprise, a woman is behind the wheel of the Hummer. “Laurelle, Meg.”
    Laurelle is a petite blonde who might not seem as outrageously dwarfed if she weren’t wearing oversized Chanel sunglasses and driving a vehicle built for military combat. She’s dressed not in fatigues, but in a cute, appliquéd turquoise tank top that reveals a delicate collarbone and arms.
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “Mmm,” it sounds like Laurelle responds. It’s hard to tell. Maybe she didn’t say anything at all. She didn’t seem to move her mouth.
    “So, Meg is about to start house-hunting here in Glenhaven Park,” Kris informs Laurelle.
    “Mmm.” Meg is convinced that’s the extent of Laurelle’s conversational capability until she adds, mostly to Kris, “My neighbor is about to list her place.”
    Kris’s eyebrows shoot up. “Cari Winston?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you know who’s getting the listing?” Kris asks hopefully.
    “I think Sotheby’s. Sorry.”
    She doesn’t look it.
    To Meg, Laurelle says, “If you’re looking, you should come see this place before someone jumps on it. Three acres and a stable.”
    “A stable is right up my alley, at this point,” Meg mutters wryly, mostly to herself, though Kris smirks.
    “So you have horses?” Laurelle brightens.
    “Uh, no.”
    “I thought you said—”
    “Forget it. Sorry. It was a joke.” Meg smiles feebly.
    “Oh…” Laurelle rests her left hand against her cheek, clearly bewildered—yet, Meg suspects, with the presence of mind to show off the enormous diamond solitaire and studded band on her fourth finger. “What was the joke?”
    Meg can’t stand people who insist on making you repeat something you both know they aren’t going to find funny anyway. How not surprising that Laurelle is that annoying kind of person.
    “You know… that I need a stable… to live in. Because the real estate market is so out of reach here.”
    “Oh. I get it.” Laurelle isn’t amused, though she pretends to flash a smile for a fraction of a split second. “Well, I’ve got to get to yoga, so…”
    “See you later.” Kris waves.
    “Don’t forget to leave the name of your cleaning woman on my voice mail,” Laurelle calls out before pulling away. “I’m desperate. I swear, it’s impossible to get good help these days.”
    She didn’t just say that,
Meg thinks,
did she?
    Just to be sure, she asks Kris as she settles into the front seat beside her.
    “Yeah, that’s exactly what she said. Don’t look at me that