“Have you seen the newspaper that was sitting on the counter? I circled a bunch of ads. I want to research neighborhoods before I make more calls.” She looks at me expectantly. More calls? I don’t like the sound of that. “Maybe Flip tossed it in the recycling?” I know exactly where that newspaper is. In the garbage. Where I threw it while I was cleaning up breakfast. It’s under the eggshells and the extra ketchup I scraped off Bea’s plate. I already know those places she circled weren’t in great neighborhoods. I get that she’s looking for something affordable, but it needs to be safe, too.
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