arms out to Eve, offering her a hug that she ignored. “I was just kidding.”
When he couldn’t get more of a rise out of Eve, Freddy inserted himself between me and Eve. “Look at the thorn among the roses,” he said.
“More like the prick,” Eve scowled.
Suddenly, I wanted to go home. The fake bonhomie and inside jokes were making me sick to my stomach. Claire had only been dead a few hours. “Look, you guys, you don’t need me to tag along. I’m going to go …”
“Suit yourself,” Eve said. “Your mother always came for one drink the first night of the show.” She moved ahead of us, striding toward the bar as though the drink awaiting her was the only thing that mattered.
“Besides,” Freddy continued. “Now that Claire’s dead, aren’t you going to look for a new buyer for Quilter Paradiso?”
Freddy was facing me, walking backward.
“How did you know?” I said, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to stop. Eve never hesitated, just kept moving toward the bar.
“Claire has been interested in your mother’s shop for a while now.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I think she was tired of being on the road and liked the idea of having her adoring fans come to her for a change. When I heard you were talking to her this morning …” He shrugged.
“But I wasn’t selling to her then. I mean, when she and I met this morning, that was the first time I knew anything about a sale.”
“So I put two and two together and got six. Sue me. But judging from the look on your face, you’re thinking about selling now.”
“I am,” I admitted. “Know anyone who might be interested?”
“Not me, I’ve got my hands full,” Freddy said. “Let’s go in the bar. I’ll introduce you around. Lots of vendors from the show will be here. Pretty soon this place will be crawling with potential buyers.”
We entered the darkened space. Straight ahead was a long wooden bar with red upholstered stools and a mirror reflecting rows of neat liquor bottles. To my right, round tables with matching tub chairs were scattered around the floor. We headed for the table in the back where Eve was already seated. I sank into the chair next to her.
There were about twenty people in the bar, most sporting vendor IDs from the Extravaganza. Freddy produced a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and announced that he was paying for drinks for everyone.
Eve looked up in surprise. “Now I’ve seen everything. He’s actually going to buy drinks.”
“What that man won’t do to impress a pretty girl,” she continued, after Freddy left to go fill our orders. “He likes you.”
I shrugged. “I doubt it. He just feels bad about this morning.”
I helped myself to a handful of pretzels. “I do wish Justine were here though. I’d like a chance to talk to her,” I said.
Eve’s eyes narrowed as she checked out the room. “I wonder where she is. We always go to the bar the first night of a show. Our little tradition. I’m surprised she’s not here already.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Eve.”
“I know that ,” she said sharply. “Justine and I are a team. We’re so connected, I’d know if something bad happened.”
Oh boy, I knew how untrue that was. When my mother lay dying in her Volvo, I was at happy hour with a bunch of engineers. We were comparing worthless stock portfolios, cursing the Alternate Minimum Tax and doing Jell-O shots. Before that day, I’d thought I would know, too. Now I knew better. The moment my mother died, I was laughing at a joke about the size of Larry Ellison’s plane.
I hadn’t been in a bar since that night, I realized. I would only stay long enough to meet potential buyers.
Eve’s phone rang, playing “Let It Be,” and her eyes lit up. It was the first time I’d seen her smile. Her face brightened, her features softened, and she looked years younger. “Hey, babe,” she shouted, holding the phone with one hand and clamping the other over her free ear. “Where are
When he couldn’t get more of a rise out of Eve, Freddy inserted himself between me and Eve. “Look at the thorn among the roses,” he said.
“More like the prick,” Eve scowled.
Suddenly, I wanted to go home. The fake bonhomie and inside jokes were making me sick to my stomach. Claire had only been dead a few hours. “Look, you guys, you don’t need me to tag along. I’m going to go …”
“Suit yourself,” Eve said. “Your mother always came for one drink the first night of the show.” She moved ahead of us, striding toward the bar as though the drink awaiting her was the only thing that mattered.
“Besides,” Freddy continued. “Now that Claire’s dead, aren’t you going to look for a new buyer for Quilter Paradiso?”
Freddy was facing me, walking backward.
“How did you know?” I said, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to stop. Eve never hesitated, just kept moving toward the bar.
“Claire has been interested in your mother’s shop for a while now.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I think she was tired of being on the road and liked the idea of having her adoring fans come to her for a change. When I heard you were talking to her this morning …” He shrugged.
“But I wasn’t selling to her then. I mean, when she and I met this morning, that was the first time I knew anything about a sale.”
“So I put two and two together and got six. Sue me. But judging from the look on your face, you’re thinking about selling now.”
“I am,” I admitted. “Know anyone who might be interested?”
“Not me, I’ve got my hands full,” Freddy said. “Let’s go in the bar. I’ll introduce you around. Lots of vendors from the show will be here. Pretty soon this place will be crawling with potential buyers.”
We entered the darkened space. Straight ahead was a long wooden bar with red upholstered stools and a mirror reflecting rows of neat liquor bottles. To my right, round tables with matching tub chairs were scattered around the floor. We headed for the table in the back where Eve was already seated. I sank into the chair next to her.
There were about twenty people in the bar, most sporting vendor IDs from the Extravaganza. Freddy produced a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and announced that he was paying for drinks for everyone.
Eve looked up in surprise. “Now I’ve seen everything. He’s actually going to buy drinks.”
“What that man won’t do to impress a pretty girl,” she continued, after Freddy left to go fill our orders. “He likes you.”
I shrugged. “I doubt it. He just feels bad about this morning.”
I helped myself to a handful of pretzels. “I do wish Justine were here though. I’d like a chance to talk to her,” I said.
Eve’s eyes narrowed as she checked out the room. “I wonder where she is. We always go to the bar the first night of a show. Our little tradition. I’m surprised she’s not here already.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Eve.”
“I know that ,” she said sharply. “Justine and I are a team. We’re so connected, I’d know if something bad happened.”
Oh boy, I knew how untrue that was. When my mother lay dying in her Volvo, I was at happy hour with a bunch of engineers. We were comparing worthless stock portfolios, cursing the Alternate Minimum Tax and doing Jell-O shots. Before that day, I’d thought I would know, too. Now I knew better. The moment my mother died, I was laughing at a joke about the size of Larry Ellison’s plane.
I hadn’t been in a bar since that night, I realized. I would only stay long enough to meet potential buyers.
Eve’s phone rang, playing “Let It Be,” and her eyes lit up. It was the first time I’d seen her smile. Her face brightened, her features softened, and she looked years younger. “Hey, babe,” she shouted, holding the phone with one hand and clamping the other over her free ear. “Where are
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