“Georgie.” I laugh as I look to the older woman by my side. “That is not true at all.”
“What’s not true?” Diane Regal crops up in our circle, and we exchange quick hellos.
Georgie shrugs her way. “I was just telling the girls here about Bizzy’s ho-hum love life. She’s a newlywed, you know. Rumor has it, her husband is already looking for an alternate route down the highway of love.”
“Oh, he is not.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Don’t listen to her, Diane. My husband and I are just fine in and out of the bedroom.”
Diane laughs. “It’s nothing that chapter fourteen can’t cure in Bobbie and Lacey’s new book, the Perfect Pairing Checklist. In fact, we’ll be selling copies tomorrow night right at the entry to the ballroom.” We’ve got to get ’em coming and going if I’m ever going to get my money back. She takes a moment to glower at Bobbie. Who in the heck doesn’t list their spouse on their own life insurance policy?
What?
Diane shakes her head at her old friend. Not that I’m buying anything Bobbie Buckingham is selling anymore. As soon as I get my sixty grand back, she’ll never see the likes of me again.
Huh.
I examine Bobbie a moment. She doesn’t seem all that broken up about Chip’s death. Or over the fact he supposedly didn’t name her as his beneficiary. I’m starting to side with Diane. I’m not so sure I believe Bobbie regarding the life insurance policy. Obviously, she doesn’t want to give the poor woman what she owes her. And the thought of it boils my blood.
“No way.” Bobbie wags a glossy pink fingernail my way. “Bizzy gets a book for free. She’s still caring for Sugar.” She shakes her head. “I owe you much more than a book. How about this? Lacey and I will do another conference at the inn, come spring.”
“Spring fling!” Lacey belts it out as if they were a couple of teenagers ready to embark on Spring Break. “And don’t worry, Bizzy. We’ll make sure to invite our listeners from out of town to really pack the inn for you. It’s the least we can do in exchange for free use of the ballroom.”
My mouth opens, but not a sound comes out. “You’re welcome.” Definitely not the sound I was hoping I’d make. I can’t believe my sister is the one that got this disastrous and costly ball rolling. Teaches me to do her one tiny favor. Her tiny favor is about to injure the inn’s bottom line.
Bobbie elbows Lacey. “There he is,” she whispers as she nods to someone across the room, and both Georgie and I follow their gaze until we spot Tiger Caldwell looking spiffy in a light gray suit that sets off the come hither in his eyes.
A half a dozen girls are already dripping off of him, and one of them happens to be my sister.
A quiet laugh strums from Bobbie. “I told you he’d show.”
“Yeah, well, he showed up with a date.” Lacey makes a face. “At least it’s not Keegan.”
“Why would it be Keegan?” Bobbie looks physically ill at the mention of the girl. “I bet you dollars to donuts she’s home crying in her soup.” Crying over a husband that was never hers, nor ever would be. Her expression hardens. I’m not sure what I would do if I saw her here tonight. Let’s just hope she steers clear for both our sakes.
So Bobbie still thinks Chip’s mistress is Keegan.
And I bet dollars to donuts she’s right. I can’t imagine how she must feel. Not only did she lose her husband, but just moments before he died, she found out he was a cheat.
Hey? I wonder if Keegan has any experience with guns?
A thought comes to me. “Bobbie”—I say her name lower than a whisper as if I was unsure if I wanted her to hear it—“that gun you had the night that Chip died, who else knew that you were carrying a weapon with you?”
This might narrow the pool of suspects quicker than a gunshot.
“Everyone,” Lacey answers for her. “We talked about it on one of our podcasts called Safely Pairing. In fact, we’re both big proponents of carrying a concealed weapon.”
“Hear that, Bizzy?” Georgie grips me by the arm. “These women are walking time bombs. Just give any one of them a wayward look and they’re liable to blow my kisser right off my face before I get any mileage out of it.” She looks to Bobbie and Lacey. “No offense, girls, but couldn’t you drum up a couple of cute men to take our minds off our own mortality for a couple of hours?”
“Georgie.” I shake my head at her, hoping she’ll take a hint and put a lid on that bloated kisser before I’m forced to shove a shoe in it.
“Don’t you Georgie me.” Her words come out thick and clunky no thanks to her puffy pout. “I got dolled up for a good time. And everyone at the senior center knows a funeral is where it’s at if a girl really wants to have fun.”
“Georgie”—I whisper—“you don’t belong to any senior center.”
She gives a long blink. “That’s never stopped me from partying with the in-crowd.” She leans toward Bobbie. “And by in-crowd, I mean in-ground. Well, sometimes, they opt for the mausoleum, but personally I look forward to being one with nature someday. So what did you do with the mister’s body? Let me guess. It was the furnace for him after the way he treated you. I can’t blame you. I’ve sizzled a few husbands myself for less transgressions.”
I take a quick breath as I turn her toward he crowd. “There’s a meatball calling my name, why don’t you get one for me?”
“Get your own meatballs, sis.” She wrangles out of my grasp just as Macy and Tiger step this way.
