“A dark blue Lexus sat in the driveway, giving me hope that Preston would be home.
I walked up the path, with a border of driftwood on one side and a birdbath on the other. I rang the bell and heard a chime from inside, followed by footsteps. The door opened, and a man in sweatpants peered out at me. Based on the stubble sprouting from his chin, he hadn’t shaved this morning and maybe not yesterday, either. He ran a hand over his short brown hair, drawing attention to a hole in the armpit of his Henley shirt.
“Yes?”
I suddenly wished I had a casserole to offer. “Preston?”
“That’s me. And you are?”
“I’m Dana Lewis. I was a friend of your wife’s. I wanted to offer my condolences and see how you’re doing during this difficult time.”
He gave me a closer look. “You were a friend of Wendy’s? I don’t remember ever meeting you.”
“I knew her back in high school. But I ran into her at the festival the day . . . ,” I trailed off, pausing, not wanting to mention her murder.
Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery)
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