I went home to Petunia's, checking in with the desk before heading for the kitchen where I was greeted by my grinning, snorting pug who checked out the smell on my sneakers just prior to sitting at my feet like she expected me to fill her in on my day.
Mom looked up from the cupcakes she was decorating, a white pastry bag filled with chocolate icing oozing a bit of sugary goodness out the silver tip and I joined her, surprised and, then again, kind of not to find Liz, Dad and Jill all hovering around the tray of confections.
Was it the case that brought them together or the smell of Mom's baking? I was fifty-fifty on the reason because the heavenly scent of my mother making cupcakes could resurrect the dead. Ahem. No pun intended.