We lunched at a little bistro on a corner, and I noticed that Tulla Tarbutton was at a table alone. She looked none the worse for wear after her shocking episode. When a gentleman arrived and she stood up to kiss him with passion, I realized she was completely healed from her experience. Cece saw it, too.
“Who’s the guy?” she asked me.
I shook my head. “I’m not yet programmed for facial recognition in Columbus.”
She poked me gently in the ribs. “Wiseacre.”
I started to say something else, but the door of the bistro blew open and a darkly beautiful woman walked in. She cast a glare at the man with such malice, I thought he would be turned into a toad on the spot. He stood up abruptly, almost upsetting his chair.
“Sunny, what are you doing in town?” he asked.
“I got a call,” she said, walking over to the table. “About you. And what you’re up to.” She drew back her hand and slapped the handsome man hard. Before anyone could react, she turned on her heel and left the restaurant.
“Now that was a statement she made without saying a word,” Millie said. She’d captured the drama with her cell phone. “This would make Variety if either of those two were celebrities. Too bad they’re just local citizens.” Millie had jumped into her new career with both feet.
“This town is chock-full of drama,” Tinkie said. “It’s beginning to wear on me.”
The waitress came around with a dessert tray, saving me from having to answer my partner.
“Have the chocolate doberge cake. It’s to die for,” Millie said. “And keep in mind every town has people who behave badly. Columbus is no exception.”
“True,” Tinkie said, “but it’s tiresome.”
I ordered a cup of coffee and kept an eye on Tulla and the man at the table. They were leaning in, whispering. When they abruptly got up and left, I heaved a sigh of relief. I was on vacation. Tinkie was right—we didn’t need drama of any kind. Shopping was bad enough. Drama was out of the question.
We finished our meal and continued with our shop-by-shop tour of the town. The wares in the Columbus stores were beautiful and unique, but by five o’clock, I was footsore and weary. I stepped out on the sidewalk and almost ran into Tulla Tarbutton and another pretty woman. They were the nuevo social elite—thin, perfectly coiffed, clothes fitted and without wrinkles. I didn’t know if Columbus had Daddy’s Girls, but these ladies were kissing cousins to that breed.
“How are you feeling, Tulla?” I asked.
“Fine. The shock didn’t leave any permanent damage. No twitches or spells of spitting.” She pulled a face to let me know she was teasing. “Thank you and your friends for all you did.” She looked past me. “Where are the men you were with?”
“Busy,” Tinkie said quickly.
“Tulla, you said you were going to clean up your act,” the other woman said with a wicked glint in her eye. Turning to us, she added, “Tulla is a great admirer of men who belong to other women.” She held out her hand. “Bricey Presley.”
“Maybe you’re the one who has an act to clean up, Bricey,” Tulla said, but without malice. “Where’d you get that brand-new Cadillac convertible you’re driving?” The two women were laughing at each other.
“At the getting place,” Bricey said. She gave a saucy shake of her head. “Tulla can’t stand it because men give me expensive gifts all the time.”
“Probably because she’s blackmailing them,” Tulla said.
“If I was blackmailing them, I’d have a lot more than a new car,” Bricey said with a sniff. They both burst into laughter.
“Are you coming down to the Riverwalk for the tree lighting?” Tulla asked us.
“We’re headed there now.”
“See you there. Bring those handsome men!” She gave a wave as she and her friend left.
“I’ll bring a slap upside her head,” Tinkie said darkly as they walked away.
5
We met the men at the Riverwalk, where they were waiting for us, looking as innocent as Attila the Hun at a pillaged Roman village. Harold had arranged delivery of champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate. Tinkie had her own thermos of hot chocolate, made by our host, Darla, just for her. We sipped the bubbly and ate the strawberries while we milled around the twenty-foot Christmas tree and the food tables.
A woman dressed as Mother Goose was hosting stories for a group of enthralled children who were hanging on her every word. Elves and Santa’s helpers were mingling in the crowd, offering canapés for adults and cookies for the children.
Darla had brought beautiful punch bowls filled with nonalcoholic drinks for all the attendees, and I noticed several of the participants spiking their cups. It was the holidays, and the night was cold. A little nip was part of the celebration.
Coleman had thought to bring my heavier coat, which I was glad to slip into. But I was even more glad for his arms around me, holding me close against him.
A crowd of about two thousand had gathered to watch the tree lighting, and I caught Tinkie gazing at several children staring up at the live magnolia tree in awe, waiting for that magic moment when the multicolored lights would be turned on. Cece snapped photos and I gave her a thumbs-up. Soon Tinkie would have a baby of her own. The one thing she’d wanted more than anything else was going to be hers. Good things did happen to good people. Right now I would not contemplate if this pregnancy was due to the three Harrington sisters, self-proclaimed witches, who’d given Tinkie a potion to get pregnant. The witchy sisters had given me a gris-gris bag to bring a man to my bed. Coleman had showed up, but I wasn’t going to think about that, either. Nope. Not thinking about any of that.
Across the beautiful park area, Darla and Harold were
