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asked.”
    “Edible undies?” Agnes said. “I don’t understand.” Suddenly, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head, she gasped and covered her breast with both hands as if to keep her heart from leaping out. “Oh, my.”
    “Let’s go, Gram,” Brent said, taking her by the arm. And not a moment too soon. Agnes swayed and fell into a dead faint.
    Brent caught her in his arms. “Somebody call 911!”
     
    “WELL, THANK GOD IT WASN’T A HEART ATTACK,” Vera said when she dropped Jamie off at her house two hours later, after sitting in the ER waiting on word of Agnes’s condition.
    “It was probably a good idea that her doctor decided to keep her overnight for observation anyway,” Jamie said. “I’ll tell you, that grandson of hers is a nut.”
    “Yeah, he’s a real fruitcake,” Vera said, putting the gear into neutral. “Oh, by the way, you’re not feeling a little weird, are you?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know, from eating those brownies?”
    “You mean horny?”
    Vera rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that.”
    Jamie decided she wouldn’t tell Vera she got horny every time she thought of tall, dark, and dropdead gorgeous Max Holt. “Yeah, I’m feeling a little frisky,” Jamie confessed, although she suspected it was just her imagination. “I’m thinking maybe a cold shower is in order.”
    Vera sighed. “I’m thinking the same thing. Must be my wild oats acting up.”
     
    JAMIE ARRIVED AT WORK THE NEXT MORNING, JUST as Destiny Moultrie climbed from a cream-colored Mercedes. The woman hurried over.
    “I know I promised to give you a day or two to think about the column,” she began, “but I’m anxious to get started.”
    Moultrie was dressed in silk khaki-colored slacks and a matching jacket that hung open to expose a tight purple bustier that barely contained her breasts. “Cleavage” seemed to be Destiny’s middle name.
    “I’m really busy,” Jamie said.
    “I was hoping we could talk it over this morning. And I’d like to discuss another matter with you. It’s pretty important.”
    Jamie did a mental sigh. That meant all the doughnuts would be eaten by the time she got to the small kitchen in back, but she figured she at least owed Destiny the truth. She had no intention of hiring a psychic for her column, even if there was to be a column, which she hadn’t decided on one way or the other.
    “I can only afford a few minutes,” she said.
    “I knew you’d say that.” Destiny followed her to the front double-glass doors.
    Vera looked up the minute they stepped inside. Her gaze immediately fell on Destiny. “How did you know I was going to have car trouble?”
    Destiny shrugged. “I just had a feeling. I didn’t want you to find yourself stranded.”
    “You didn’t tamper beneath my hood, did you?”
    “Vera!” Jamie said. “That was not a nice thing to say.”
    “It happens all the time,” Destiny said. “People don’t want to believe in things they can’t see.”
    Vera gave a grunt. “So what’s it going to cost me to get my car repaired?”
    Destiny shrugged. “I have no idea.”
    Vera looked at Jamie. “See, I told you there was nothing to this psychic stuff.”
    “What I meant to say,” Destiny began slowly, “is I have no idea how much a new engine costs.”
    “A new engine!” Vera cried.
    “Man, that’s going to cost you,” Jamie said, then caught herself. What was she thinking?
    “New engine, my foot,” Vera said. “There’s not a darn thing wrong with my engine.”
    “Maybe we should step into my office,” Jamie said, motioning Destiny inside.
    The woman followed. Jamie paused at the door and glanced back at Vera. “Has Mike come in yet?” Mike Henderson was Jamie’s fresh-out-of-college editor. She was trying to raise him to be a real newspaperman since he was organizationally challenged and spent much of his time chasing women.
    “He’s covering the city council meeting, and then he has an appointment to interview the new high