The other shopping bag slumped to the floor and the others were forgotten in the car as, completely dismayed, she crossed to the nearest seat she could find and half-sat, half-collapsed on the arm of the sofa, butter knife in hand.

That had been at least four hundred dollars worth of truffles...it had come with a letter from Vicki about her visit to Italy this year, and a suggestion that perhaps Belle could find a decent recipe for truffle stuffing and use them around the holidays to host a memorable family dinner.

Clearly, that was not going to be happening.