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Not that she had a lot of valuables to steal—or other stuff sneak thieves would be remotely interested in. One simply cannot amass a wealth of material possessions on a reporter’s salary. But still. No sense in giving them easy access to her home and hearth.

She made a mental note to talk to her dad. Then, discovering she was out of cereal, milk and yogurt, decided not to postpone the urgent missive but deliver it in person.

So she slipped her feet into the galoshes she kept by the kitchen door, cinched her pink terry cloth robe tighter around her slight frame, and stepped out into the backyard.

Since her parents lived next door, and a convenient opening in the hedge that divided the respective backyards provided easy access, she arrived at her final destination in seven seconds flat, without breaking a sweat, cup of coffee in hand, taking occasional sips.

The hits of caffeine drove the sleep from her body, and by the time she was opening her parents’ screen door and stepping into their kitchen, she was more or less human again.

“Hey, sweetie,” said her mother, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You’re early.”

“Ran out of breakfast essentials,” she intimated, and started foraging the fridge. Juice, milk, yogurt… Check, check and check. She took a bowl from the cupboard over the sink, dragged down the oversized box of Corn Flakes, and started her own breakfast prep.

Her mother, who was the spitting image of Odelia, albeit with a touch of gray streaking her own blond hair, called out,“Tex, honey! Breakfast is ready!”

Taking a seat at the kitchen counter, Odelia quickly dug in, alternating between scooping up her cereal, now soaked in milk and drowned in fruit yogurt with half a banana, and sipping from her coffee, to which her mother now added creamer and a spoon of sugar.

“How are things going at the paper?” asked her mom, taking a seat at the counter.

“Great. I still have that article to finish about the new school play and the upcoming senior citizen dance—and I’m still hoping to get lucky and land that exclusive one-on-one with the one and only Charlie Dieber!”

“Ooh. Aren’t you the lucky one?”

“Yeah. So far Dan struck out with Charlie’s management, but I’m hoping they change their minds. Keeping my fingers crossed!”

Mom crossed her fingers and so did Odelia. They were both equally big Dieber fans.

Odelia’s father, who’d entered the kitchen, asked, “Dieber. Isn’t he that actor—”

“Singer, Dad.”

“Right. I knew that.”

Tex Poole was a large man, with a shock of white hair and an engaging smile. He was digging around the cupboards, opening door after door, until Mom said,“Food’s on the table, hon.”

He glanced down at the bowl of oatmeal porridge Mom had placed on the counter and grimaced.“It’s at times like these that I sincerely regret attending medical school. Why couldn’t I have become a plumber, and be blissfully unaware of the importance of diet?”

Mom waved a hand.“Even plumbers have to watch their cholesterol levels. No more saturated fats for you. Those levels need to come down and they need to come down before you go and have a stroke or some other horrible incident I don’t even want to think about.”

“Yeah, Dad,” said Odelia. “Even plumbers need to look after their pipes.”

“Ha ha. I never knew I raised a comedian for a daughter.” He plunked down, staring at the distasteful-looking sludge, spoon raised but not making any indication to start eating it.

“Here, have some of my yogurt,” Odelia said, feeling sorry for her dad, who’d been forced to put himself on a diet after discovering his cholesterol levels were off the charts.

He gratefully added some yogurt to his porridge, took a deep breath and dug in.“I know this stuff is healthy—but why does it have to taste so bad?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Mom said.

“Oh, Dad, if you have time, could you install a pet door over at my place?”

“I’ll do it today,” said her father, visibly quivering when the first spoon of oatmeal hit his esophagus and the gloop proceeded to slide down his gullet and into his stomach.

“Wasn’t it today that Charlie Dieber was on Morning Sunshine?” asked Mom.

“Oh! Right! Better turn on the TV,” she instructed her mother.

Mom obligingly switched on the TV set, but the story featured on the televised radio show was an item about freshly hatched chicks, and Odelia quickly lost interest.

“Looks like we just missed it,” said Mom.

Just then, Odelia’s grandmother waltzed into the kitchen, holding her new iPhone to her ear, and nodding seriously. “Yes, Your Holiness. But there are children dying in Angujistan every day, and we need to get a handle on the situation before things get out of hand.”

Odelia exchanged a puzzled look with her mother, who merely rolled her eyes.