“Not a problem. If you ask Clifford for some written advice, for heaven’s sake get me to transcribe it before you try reading it.”The joke helpe... ease the tension. Clifford might not win any calligraphy contests, but his handwriting is a whole lot better than mine, and I’m only too well aware of that. I don’t know exactly what Helga said to her husband to get him moving so fast, but the two of them were in my doorway not fifteen minutes later. I closed the door behind them and sat them down at. "We're doing fine. I don't need your help, I don't know you from Adam, and I don't want you around my daughter when nobody's around. Jesus, you painted my frickin' front door blue! A little presumptuous, don't you think?"I smiled. "I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica's choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner's association."She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. "Don't remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence. More

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