Fra Angelico. The Annunciation. 1430–1445.

Mel said farewell to the warm spring day and entered the closed-off sunroom, where she immediately started shivering. "Why's it so cold in here?"

"Air conditioning," said Catelyn, trembling on her patio furniture with the latest issue of Real Simple on her lap.

"Why's it on so high?"

"I was hot."

"You look like you're freezing."

"Well, now I am."

"So turn off the AC."

"Mmm mmm."

"Why not?"

"I'm comfy here."

Mel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. For one, Catelyn looked anything but comfy, quivering in a snuggie on backward, her teeth chattering like Morse code. For two, she had a knack for drawing out what should have been brief conversations with her clipped, often nonsensical responses. It was a wonder she couldn't stop humoring her. "Maybe you should go outside and warm up. It's gorgeous out."

Catelyn shook her head. "Hiding from hay fever."

"That reminds me." Mel tossed her a bottle. "Your Benadryl, m'lady."

"I knew I could count on you." Catelyn uncapped the bottle and took a healthy, unrecommended swig.

"I need to get back to the play." Mel turned to leave. "We're rehearsing Mr. Thayne's new play. It's called Raising a Little Hell and it's about a bunch of wayward angels who make a deal with the devil. Wanna come watch?"

"I'll wait for opening night," Catelyn said, as if she had better things to do.

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