Cereal Killer

anything, but for some reason set Savannah’s nerves on edge. Miss Marietta Reid was up to something.
    But then, Marietta was almost always up to something, especially when it came to the men in her life, of whom there had been plenty.
    None for very long.
    “No-oo,” Marietta said. Another suspicious glance. “But I was coming to West Hollywood, and since that’s practically next door to you...”
    “Actually, it’s about an hour or an hour and a half, depending on the traffic.”
    “Like I said, nearby, and I thought maybe I could stay here with you, you know, rather than get a motel room that I can’t afford.”
    “Sure. I’ve got a spare bedroom you’re welcome to. I’d love to have you. If you’d called first, I’d have dusted the room and changed the sheets.”
    Marietta shrugged. “That’s okay. You can do it later. I’m not ready to go to bed yet. I’m all revved up from my flight.”
    She walked around the room, checking out Savannah’s knickknacks, her bookshelf, the throw pillows on her sofa. Pausing beside the desk, she scanned the paperwork that Tammy had left beside the computer.
    Marietta had never truly understood the concept of respecting another person’s privacy. Unless, of course, it was her privacy that needed respecting. That was a different story altogether, Savannah had discovered over the years. On her forehead, Savannah still carried a small scar from the time she had dared to look into Marietta’s “private drawer” to retrieve the sweater her younger sister had borrowed more than two months earlier.
    “Boy, I sure hate to fly, don’t you?” Marietta said, picking up one of Tammy’s monthly reports on the agency’s financial status and squinting to read the fine print. “I mean, it’s exciting and all, lookin’ out the window, but once you’re up there, especially after it’s dark, it’s just so boring. I was trying to have a pleasant conversation with this good-looking guy sitting next to me, but he kept reading his stock market magazines. He practically ignored me, he did. Really just downright rude if you ask me.”
    Savannah grinned, imagining the horror some weary frequent flier must have experienced when Marietta had tried to engage him in “pleasant conversation.” The poor guy had probably looked forward to a nice, quiet flight where he could catch up on his reading, take a nap, commune quietly with his inner spirit. And then...
    Marietta.
    Chatty, always on the prowl for a man, big-haired, sparkly shirted... Marietta.
    Savannah walked over, took the paper out of her sister’s hand, and stuck it in a drawer. “Are you hungry?” she said. “I think I’ve got some leftover fried chicken in the refrigerator and some potato salad and baked beans. I’d be glad to dish you up a plate.”
    Marietta thought for a moment, obviously tempted. Then she shook her head. “Naw. I think I’ll pass this time. I dieted like crazy for the past two weeks to look good for this trip. No point in gaining it all back the minute I get here—before I even see him.”
    “See... him?"
    Savannah was afraid to ask. Most of the “hims” in Marietta’s life had brought her grief. And anything that brought Marietta grief soon brought everyone in the family grief. Marietta wasn’t exactly a stiff-upper-lip, bear-it-all-with-quiet-dignity, keep-your-troubles-to-your-self sort of girl.
    Marietta’s eyes suddenly lit with the glow of passion, and she instantly halted the examination of her surroundings. She was very clearly, as Savannah liked to call it, in Marietta Loo-Loo Land.
    Yep, the worst had happened... again. Marietta Jank Reid was in love.
    Lord help us all , Savannah thought.
     
    * * *
     
    “So, you’ve met Mr. Right?” Savannah resisted the urge to add “again” as she stifled a yawn.
    The two sisters sat at Savannah’s dining table beneath her Tiffany-style lamp and sipped their Baileys-laced decaffeinated coffees. In the middle of the table before them sat an empty carton that had—until twenty minutes ago—held Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. In front of each sister sat an empty bowl that was all but licked clean.
    Marietta had succumbed to dietary temptation.
    Savannah had known she would; it was a Reid genetic thing.
    “Oh, this guy is so-o-o-o much more than just my Mr. Right,” Marietta gushed. “He’s my—”
    Oh, gawd, Savannah thought, please don't tell me he’s your friggin’ soul mate. You’ve had so-o-o-o many soul