Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears

And suddenly I’m totally okay with handing off the popcorn. After shoving the bucket at Mitch, I pull out the phone that saved my life a year ago to call Cynda.

Of course, the phone goes to voicemail, but I leave a message anyway, “Cynda, it’s Goldie—I mean, Gina! Did I just see what I thought I saw? Was that your mom? Oh my God, call me back as soon as you get this!!!”