“Why does my head hurt so bad? Was it because I was angry?”
“Maybe, but I think it has more to do with the cheesecake and wine.”
“Too much sugar?”
“Yep.”
“Is this what you call a sugar crash?”
Miracle nodded. “Are you okay other than your headache?”
“I guess. I’m not mad at Carol anymore. Annabelle came and we talked. She’s right. Most people don’t believe in guardian angels.”
“But some of us do.”
“That’s what she said. But she did give me this,” Zing said, handing Miracle the piece of paper with Ralph’s instructions on them. “It’s to help us uncover the real Dove Lance.”
Miracle studied the sheet of paper intently. “Hmm.”
Zing didn’t know if this was a good “hmm” or a bad “hmm,” that was the problem with “hmms.”
“Where’d she get the instructions? Do they have computers up there at HQ?”
“Who do you think invented them?”
“Oh.”
“How’d it go with Carol? You know, after I left?” Zing asked.
“She invited me to come in for a free donut tomorrow. I take that as a good sign.”
“Be careful, though,” Zing warned.
“Why, you think Carol will break my heart?”
“No, I mean be careful about too many donuts.” Zing pinched her waist. “Look what they did to me.”
Miracle laughed. “That’s a love handle. Welcome to being human. You might want to slow down on the sweets and have fruits and veggies instead. I’ll make you up a snack bag filled with healthy stuff for you to munch on tomorrow,” Miracle said.
“Okay.”
“You’ll like them.” Miracle didn’t meet her eye when she said it.
“As much as donuts?”
“Sure.”
“Are you lying?” Zing asked.
“Maybe just a little.”
Chapter Seven
“Homeless Tom said thank you for the donuts,” Zing said, walking back in from the bakery’s kitchen. She sat down at the table with Carol and Miracle after turning the door’s open sign to “Closed.”
Carol studied the sheet of paper in her hands and said, “This looks like gobbledygook to me. You really think we can pull this off?”
“Ralph told Annabelle it would work,” Zing said.
“Can’t you just fly back up to wherever you’re from and have Ralph the geek angel do it for us?” Carol asked.
“I can’t fly. I’m not that kind of angel,” Zing said patiently. But what she didn’t say was that there was no way she was going home before her time was up. If Bertha caught her, she might make her stay. And Zing couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Nell.
At that moment, Nell came through the swinging door holding a bank bag. Miracle quickly snatched the paper out of Carol’s hand and, since she had no pockets in the skirt she was wearing, shoved the paper down into the depths of her cleavage.
“What was that?” Nell asked.
“What was what?” Miracle asked much too innocently.
“The paper you stuck between your boobs,” Nell said.
“Oh, that? It’s a. . .” Miracle hesitated. She was horrible at lying.
Carol interjected, “Poem. It’s Miracle’s latest poem.”
“That’s right,” Miracle agreed. “I wanted Carol’s opinion on my new poem.”
“I didn’t know you were a poet,” Nell said.
“I am actually,” Miracle said. “A very bad poet,” she added.
“There’s no such thing as bad writing,” Nell said. “Dove says you just need to get something written down and afterward you can revise it.”
“Right, I need a lot of revising. In fact, this one needs years of revising,” Miracle said.
“Will you let me read it someday?” Nell asked.
“Sure thing.”
“Speaking of revision, Dove Lance needs to do a lot of that herself. Her last book was awful,” Carol said.
“You didn’t even read it,” Nell said, indignantly.
“I read the first page and that’s all I needed. That woman never met a comma she didn’t like.”
“Since when are you an English major?” Nell asked. Her face was growing redder by the second.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Miracle said. “I read parts of it last night. The sex parts.”
Miracle and Carol laughed.
“Well, I’m glad somebody liked it. I’ll make sure to tell Dove you enjoyed it,” Nell said, tossing a dirty look at Carol.
“Yeah, make sure you text her because she won’t talk to you on the phone,” Carol said.