Chapter 15

Approximately two hours before Stone’s book club members were supposed to arrive, Izzy bounced up to his back door, tapped three times, shook the glass in its wooden frame, and called out, “Stone! Stone Daye! It’s snowing out here. Let me in.”

Stone thought an emergency had unraveled and rushed to the door, pulled it open, and saw a flushed and snow-covered chubby woman dressed in her pink pajamas and matching slippers. Izzy’s oil-hued hair was pulled up in pink curlers, and there was blood, or what resembled blood, on her left cheek.

Alarmed, Stone asked, “What’s wrong, Izzy?”

She lifted her right hand and pointed its index finger at him. “Is it true you’re having a party this evening?”

He nodded. “It’s the monthly book club gathering. It’s my turn to host.”

“Listen to me closely, young man. You will not be too loud like the last party you hosted, and Plimpton 911 will not show up at our houses. Do I make myself clear?” she scolded him as she would a twelve-year-old boy.