Buried In Buttercream

and she had to admit, it made her look forward to their eventual wedding night.
    Or, at least, it would ... if it hadn’t been for her misgivings about her own perceived flaws.
    She thought of the deep, red scar on her own thigh and moved her hand.
    Fortunately, they had arrived at their destination, and she found it a welcome distraction.
    Odelle Peters’ house was one of the most beautiful examples of an Arts and Crafts home that Savannah had ever seen, either in person or on the pages of any of her architectural design magazines.
    It looked like a quaint cottage that had drunk some of Alice’s grow-larger potion and become a mansion.
    With its brick walls, steep roof, deep porches, pointed window arches, and stained glass windows, it personified “cozy,” while its massive proportions said, “grandeur.”
    “Wow!” Savannah said, taking in the elegant yet casual country garden-style grounds. “I wish Granny could see this! She’d love it! Lilacs and climbing roses and even hollyhocks ... all her favorites.”
    “Didn’t John say she designed this place herself?”
    “Yes, and you can tell it’s had a lot of love poured into it.”
    “Uh-oh,” Dirk said.
    “What is it?”
    “Get a load of that. A ‘For Sale’ sign there by the mailbox.”
    She looked where he was pointing and, sure enough, there it was—a sign announcing that the property was listed with Golden Touch Realty.
    “Ouch,” she said. “That’s gotta hurt, no matter what the circumstances.”
    Dirk pulled into the driveway and cut the key on the Buick. “Well, let’s go find out what it’s all about.”
    They walked through the fantasyland yard and up to the arched, Craftsman-style doorway with its colorful stained glass insert and hand-wrought hardware.
    Savannah knocked and, only a moment later, they heard rapid, heavy footsteps coming their way.
    The door swung open and a woman appeared, looking out of breath and highly annoyed. Her short, straight, salt-and-pepper hair was uncombed, sticking out like the back bristles on an angry dog.
    At one time she had applied makeup, but now her mascara was smeared below her eyes and most of her purple eye shadow was gone from above her right eye but not her left.
    Her simple cotton shirt and slacks looked like she had slept in them ... for several nights in a row.
    “What the hell!” she yelled at them. “Can’t you people read? The sign says, ‘Do Not Disturb Occupants!’ Call the damned Realtor! Their number’s right there, plain as day. Sheezzz!”
    Before she could slam the door in their faces, Dirk stuck his foot across the threshold and simultaneously flashed his badge.
    Savannah had always been impressed with that move. Dirk was a simple, straightforward sorta guy. It was his only multitasking skill.
    “Not so fast!” he told her. “I’m Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter of the San Carmelita Police Department, and if you’re Odelle Peters, you and me’s gotta talk.”
    Odelle froze for a moment and stared at him with blank eyes that were a strange shade of russet brown. It was almost red. And combined with her unusually pale skin, it gave her an unearthly appearance. On Halloween night, with very little costuming, she could pass for some sort of vampire or sorceress.
    Jesup would love that look, Savannah thought. A little fake blood running down her chin, a spiderweb painted on her forehead and she’d be ready for ... oh ... grocery shopping or a trip to the dentist to have her fake fangs readjusted.
    Savannah had always thought that some bat—not a stork—had left her sister under a cabbage plant.
    “I don’t want to talk to you!” Odelle said, kicking at Dirk’s foot with the toe of her ballet slipper. “Get your foot out of my door before I slam it on you.”
    Dirk put his hand up to hold the door open and looked down on her with what Savannah called his “Clint Eastwood stare.”
    “I wouldn’t recommend you do that, ma’am,” he told her. “Because that would be assaulting an officer of the law, and getting hit with a charge like that is sure to ruin your day.”
    “My day is already ruined,” Odelle exclaimed, looking like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. “In fact, my whole life is ruined, so you need to go threaten somebody who gives a damn what happens to them.”
    Savannah stepped forward and held one hand out to the woman. “I’m Savannah Reid,” she said, “and it’s obvious that you’re very upset. I’m sorry about