Fed Up by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant Page B

think of it any other way. See, the good thing about being pregnant and slothlike is that I’ve been reading tons of mysteries and watching TV. It’s paid off, don’t you think? So who would want that poor Francie dead?”
    “I have no idea. I don’t know anything about her. But after watching what she went through as she died, I want to know what killed her. Or who killed her. No one should have to die like that.” I shuddered. “What else did Owen say?”
    “He said he talked to Willie, and Willie told him that everyone at the store was furious because, of course, no one wants to be blamed for selling nasty food, right? What business wants that kind of notoriety? I guess they had to yank a bunch of stuff from the shelves, and it’s causing a big stir there. If I walked into an expensive market and saw employees pulling tons of food, I’d turn around and walk out. And Evan is closed for the day, now, and since it’s his store, he’s losing money while they check out everything he’s selling. A reputation for selling deadly food could destroy his business.”
    I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s change the subject,” I said with as much cheer as I could muster. “Let’s talk about the wedding.”
    “Chloe, you’re traumatized and depressed.” Adrianna said matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry you and Josh had to go through all of this. Let me take care of you.” Ade picked up a piece of croissant and wiped the plate with it before popping the last bite in her mouth. “The best route to feeling good is looking good. So I’m going to do your hair. A run-through for the wedding, okay?” She stood up as gracefully as she could. “I need the practice so I don’t lose my touch before I have to do my own hair. I’ll do your hair the way I’m going to do mine. So try to look like me.”
    I almost shoved a couch pillow under my shirt but didn’t want to risk one of Ade’s mood swings. I cleaned up the kitchen and helped myself to some freshly baked coffee cake while Adrianna gathered her styling tools. Although the temperature in the little apartment felt comfortable to me, Ade decided that the thermometer that read a mere seventy-two degrees was horrendously inaccurate, so she cranked up the air conditioner while I huddled under a blanket. “Besides, the AC will dry out the air in here and make for better hair,” she insisted. “Now, go stick your head in the sink and then sit in front of me. And this reminds me. Tell your mother I’m doing her hair, too. I don’t want to take the risk that she might stick something weird in it. Seriously, I love Bethany to pieces, but I really don’t want her wearing one of her craft projects on top of her head.”
    This wedding had become a Carter family affair. I was performing the ceremony, my mother was to be Adrianna’s matron of honor, and my father was walking the bride down the aisle. Josh was doing double duty. Besides serving as Owen’s best man, he was catering the reception. Digger was going to help in the kitchen, but I had no idea how Josh was going to coordinate the food preparation while simultaneously being a member of the wedding.
    We watched Veronica Mars on DVD while Ade began blowing out my hair. “Oh, ick, Chloe! Look at your roots!” My highlights had grown out enough to horrify the bride-to-be. Consequently, after my hair was thoroughly dry, she started covering my head with foils and lightener. “And you need a trim. Your hair has got no shape left in it.”
    I resigned myself to sitting in one spot for the next few hours while Adrianna brought my hair up to her wedding standards. After toying with a variety of complicated updos involving curls and twists pinned to my scalp, Adrianna decided on a looser, more flowing style with gently shaped curls that would work beautifully with her simple veil. When the predicted hours had finally passed and I was finally allowed to look in the mirror, I was speechless. I’d almost forgotten