Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“Well, Maribel is not just an older relative,” Mason said. “She is my grandmother.”
“I am just following the adjustments as they are requested,” Mr. Vance said, looking between us. “But if you want to override those notes, I need you to sign the revised shoot list.”
We left the studio ten minutes later, the rain still falling in a steady, gray drizzle against our windshield as we got into the car.
“Why would she do that behind our back, Clara?” Mason asked as he started the engine, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Well, she has been avoiding the camera for weeks,” I said. “We need to go back to the apartment and look at those old albums.”
“I do not understand why she would call Mr. Vance directly,” Mason said, staring at the wet asphalt ahead. “She usually asks my mother to handle anything to do with scheduling.”
“Well, maybe she did not want your mother to know either,” I said. “If Evelyn found out, she would have a dozen questions about why the schedule was changing.”
