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“Me, too,” Quinn says.

“Yeah?” I ask. “Why? You think the casseroles are sweet?”

Stop acting so invested in this. You’ll give yourself away.

“Because I tasted her monkey bread,” Everly says. She points a fork at me. “You make amazing monkey bread, but the stuff Lawson got from this girl was incredible.”

I stare at her. That was my monkey bread. After how much he loved my cinnamon rolls the other morning—and after he told me he thinks of me whenever he smells or tastes cinnamon—I had to make him some of the cinnamon-sugar-caramel pull-apart breakfast bread.

Is Everly kidding me right now?

“Wait, you tasted Lawson’s monkey bread?” Nora asks.

“That sounds like a fantastic euphemism,” Everly says, pinching off a piece of roll and popping it into her mouth.

Nora ignores that and asks, “How did you taste Lawson’s monkey bread?”

Quinn, Everly, and Astrid all giggle.

“I was over at Patty’s doing some trimming in her front flowerbeds just before we came here,” Everly tells her. “Patty brought some out and said she got it from Brewser’s. Apparently, a bunch of them were over there this morning.”

I took the bread over yesterday with last night’s casserole. We don’t have a dance practice scheduled today because of my lunch with the girls, but I know Brewser’s friends are still trying to “catch” his stalker. Or, probably more accurately, going over for coffee and treats and thinking that if they also happen to see the stalker while they’re there, great.

“Okay, so I have to figure out who this person is,” Nora says as we finally all take our seats with full plates and cups.

“Who who is?” Astrid asks, picking a blueberry out of the spinach, berry, and feta salad.

“Who is taking casseroles to Lawson,” Nora says, as if that should have been obvious.

“You need to find out who it is?” I ask.

Crap. It’s one thing for Lawson to try to figure out who I am. But Nora knows me really well. I don’t think I can fool her. At least not for long.

“Why? Are you worried about his stalker?” I ask, careful not to make direct eye contact.

Nora looks confused for a moment. “What? Oh. No. I need to recruit her for the Casserole Crew. Haven’t you heard how amazing her food is? And she’s clearly got a huge variety. We need her on the team. Three members have died in the past year!”

The Casserole Crew is a group of people—men and women, we don’t discriminate when it comes to good deeds—in town who can be called upon when someone needs meals delivered after a surgery, a new baby, a loss in the family, or really, anything else.

I sit back in my chair. Oh. Well. I’d be happy to help out with that. But…how without outing myself as Lawon’s personal casserole brigade?

“Yeah, wow, we’re really sad about the deaths in town that leave things like Casserole Crew short members,” Andi says dryly.

Nora frowns at her. “Of course I was sad. I went to all of the funerals and cried at two of them.”

Andi laughs.

Everly shakes her head. “I only cried at one. Who else did you cry at besides Marie’s?”

“Dorothy’s,” Nora says. “You didn’t cry at Dorothy’s funeral?”

“No.” Everly shrugs. “She tried to teach me piano and was kind of mean about it.”

Nora gapes at her. “That was years ago and you were a terrible student. You never practiced.”

“She was still mean about it.”

“Oh my God. Everly, you⁠—”