A Churn for the Worse by Laura Bradford Page A

lack of detail wasn’t as a result of the sketch artist’s ability,” Claire volunteered just as Hayley’s partner, Jeremy, came around the corner and skidded to a stop, his eyes wide.
    â€œI’m not too late for breakfast, am I?” His eyes darted across the edible offerings stretched across the center of the table and swallowed in anticipation.
    â€œNo, of course—”
    â€œYes. Yes, you are.” Hayley liberated her camera bag from its holding spot to the left of the buffet table and tapped her hand against its mesh side pocket. “Did you look outside your bedroom window like I told you to do when I knocked twenty minutes ago? Those are storm clouds,Jeremy. We need to get some outdoor shots before any rain moves in.”
    â€œBut I’m hungry,” he protested.
    Hayley shrugged and then hooked her thumb in the direction of the front hallway. “You should have thought of that when I first told you to come down. Now we don’t have time for you to sit and eat.”
    â€œHow about I put a few donuts into a paper sack for you and you can take them in the car?” Diane suggested. Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared into the hallway and the kitchen beyond, only to return moments later with a small bag. Thrusting it into Jeremy’s hand, the woman smiled. “Here you go, young man. It’s not a full breakfast, but it’s something.”
    He took the bag, peeked inside, and smiled. “They look mighty good.”
    â€œWell you’ll have to let me know if your stomach agrees when I see you again over dinner.”
    â€œC’mon, Jeremy. Please. We need to go.
Now.
”
    â€œI’m not working through lunch, I’m telling you that right now.” Jeremy reached into the bag, withdrew a donut, and winked at Diane. “And my parents wonder why I don’t want to work . . .”
    And then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps joining with Hayley’s as they made their way down the hall, across the front foyer, and out the front door.
    â€œSounds like something I’ve heard in my own classroom a time or two.” Hank helped himself to a second waffle and a handful of fresh strawberries before turning his attention to the sixty-something man on the opposite side of the table. “I would imagine, with you being a travel agent, Bill, folkswho’d benefit from an increase in tourists must really try to pull out all the stops for you . . .”
    Bill grinned around his bacon. “I’m treated well, yes.”
    â€œSo what makes you decide to really push a particular location or to put together a group to go there?” Claire asked. “Are there certain criteria you look for?”
    â€œSure.” Bill ate a couple of bites and then set the remaining piece back down on his plate. “But that criteria changes based on the group I’m targeting. If they’re young, I look for nightlife, restaurants, shopping, that sort of thing. If they’re families, I’m more concerned with available activities and cost. For the senior set, like I’m concentrating on for Heavenly, it’s more about cost, restaurants, safety, pace, shopping, and an opportunity to learn something new.”
    Hank looked up from his waffle and smiled. “Sounds like Heavenly is a shoo-in.”
    â€œCost-wise—it’s good. Dining-wise—it’s good. Pace-wise—it’s good. Shopping-wise—it’s good. But as far as safety—which is an important factor when it comes to seniors deciding where to go—the verdict is still out.”
    It was quick and partially stifled, but Claire still heard Diane’s gasp. Although, based on the fact that everyone around them was looking at
Claire
, she suspected hers was louder. “But Heavenly
is
safe,” she argued.
    â€œA man was just killed not more than a mile or so from here. In the very heart of the area my