The door swung open to reveal Beverly, who was dressed in a sweeping silk robe of dusty rose and looked as though she had been interrupted during a very important nap. Beverly scanned the group on the porch with a slow, blinking confusion that quickly sharpened into a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance.
“What on earth is this circus?” Beverly asked as she tightened the sash of her robe. She looked at the officers and the locksmith as if they were poorly timed delivery men rather than agents of the law.
Monica took a single step forward, her heels clicking against the wood with a sound that demanded immediate attention. “Beverly Thorne, you are being officially notified that your presence on this property is no longer permitted by the owner.”
Beverly let out a dry, rattling laugh that was meant to be condescending but sounded increasingly hollow in the morning air. “Owner? Serena, stop this ridiculous tantrum right now and tell these people to leave before you embarrass your husband any further.”
