extra minutes to collect her things, then followed him out the door.
Even if she introduced herself, she had no idea what to say. Mostly she wanted to tell him his so-called Free Child movement—no boundaries for kids—was outright lunacy. How could he, in good conscience, mislead parents in this ridiculous fashion? Not that she had strong feelings on the subject or anything. Okay, so maybe she’d gone a little overboard at the bookstore that day, but she couldn’t help it. The manager had been touting the benefits of Dr. Jeffries’s book to yet another unsuspecting mom. K.O. felt it was her duty to let the poor woman know what might happen if she actually followed Dr. Jeffries’s advice. The bookseller had strenuously disagreed and from then on, the situation had gotten out of hand.
Not wanting him to think she was stalking him, which she supposed she was, K.O. maintained a careful distance. If his office was in Seattle, it might even be in this neighborhood. After the renovations on Blossom Street a few years ago, a couple of buildings had been converted to office space. If she could discreetly discover where he practiced, she might go and talk to him sometime. She hadn’t read his book but had leafed through it, and she knew he was a practicing child psychologist. She wanted to argue about his beliefs and his precepts, tell him about the appalling difference in her nieces’ behavior since the day Zelda had adopted his advice.
She’d rather he didn’t see her, so she dashed inconspicuously across the street to A Good Yarn, and darted into the doorway, where she pretended to be interested in a large Christmas stocking that hung in the display window. From the reflection in the window, she saw Dr. Jeffries walking briskly down the opposite sidewalk.
As soon as it was safe, she dashed from the yarn store to Susannah’s Garden, the flower shop next door, and nearly fell over a huge potted poinsettia, all the while keeping her eyes on Dr. Jeffries. He proved one thing, she mused. Appearances were deceiving. He looked so...so normal. Who would’ve guessed that beneath that distinguished, sophisticated and—yes—handsome exterior lay such a fiend? Perhaps fiend was too strong a word. Yet she considered Wynn Jeffries’s thinking to be nothing short of diabolical, if Zoe and Zara were anything to judge by.
No way!
K.O. stopped dead in her tracks. She watched as Wynn Jeffries paused outside her condo building, her very own building, entered the code and strolled inside.
Without checking for traffic, K.O. crossed the street again. A horn honked and brakes squealed, but she barely noticed. She was dumbfounded.
Speechless.
There had to be some mistake. Perhaps he was making a house call. No, that wasn’t right. What doctor made house calls in this day and age? What psychologist made house calls ever? Besides, he didn’t exactly look like the compassionate type. K.O. bit her lip and wondered when she’d become so cynical. It’d happened around the same time her sister read Dr. Jeffries’s book, she decided.
The door had already closed before she got there. She entered her code and stepped inside just in time to see the elevator glide shut. Standing back, she watched the floor numbers flicker one after another.
“Katherine?”
K.O. whirled around to discover LaVonne Young, her neighbor and friend. LaVonne was the only person who called her Katherine. “What are you doing, dear?”
K.O. pointed an accusing finger past the elegantly decorated lobby tree to the elevator.
LaVonne stood in her doorway with her huge tomcat, named predictably enough, Tom, tucked under her arm. She wore a long shapeless dress that was typical of her wardrobe, and her long graying hair was drawn back in a bun. When K.O. had first met her, LaVonne had reminded her of the character Auntie Mame. She still did. “Something wrong with the elevator?” LaVonne asked.
“No, I just saw a man...” K.O. glanced back and noticed that the elevator had gone all the way up to the penthouse suite. That shouldn’t really come as a shock. His book sales being what they were, he could easily afford the penthouse.
LaVonne’s gaze followed hers. “That must be Dr. Jeffries.”
“You know him?” K.O. didn’t bother to hide her interest. The more she learned, the better her chances of engaging him in conversation.
“Of course I know Dr. Jeffries,” the retired accountant said. “I know everyone in the building.”
“How long has he lived here?” K.O. demanded. She’d been in this building since the first week it was approved for