Lou sat beside Harper and began nosing in her box of appliques. With a muffled curse, he started moving some of them around. She frowned. “What are you doing?” “You’re getting them mixed up.” He sounded genuinely agitated. “See, you’ve got rhinestones over there with the sequins.” Oh, yeah, Jolene had once mentioned he was a little OCD. “Does my grandmother still send you chain letters?” He growled again. “Yes. She knows I can’t break them. It’s bad luck.” Harper shook her head. “Not really. It’s called OCD and—” “Yes, yes, so my psychiatrist tells me.” “You have a shrink?” “Apparently, I have
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