Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
W e finish up with our glorious meal, and no sooner do we step back out into the rotunda here at the country club than we bump into Stanton and Neelie.
Nettie sidles up to him. “What happened to the last one here is a rotten egg, dumb potato, and a sack of nuts that we get to take turns kicking?”
I bite down on a smile because I happen to like Nettie’s embellishments even if they did ride the border of good taste.
Stanton grunts as he hitches a thumb at Neelie. “This one had to hit a sample sale in Portland which set us back an hour.”
Neelie nods. “The holidays are coming, and since Stanton and I aren’t officially hitched, I still like to maintain my wardrobe with couture on a budget.”
I flex a smile at Stanton because I know all too well that he’s a miser who not only likes to count his shekels, but he loathes lending them out to anyone to spend for him—especially his wife. Stanton was so cheap he could squeeze a penny until Lincoln’s eyes popped out.
“Daddy, you missed lunch,” Abbey tells him while offering him a quick embrace.
“Well, how about hitting a bucket of balls?” he calls out to the entire lot of us. “My treat.”
“I’m in,” Wes says .
Ransom glances my way and I nod.
“I’m in, too, then,” he says.
The kids all agree and begin to lead the way out when Neelie pulls me over.
“I’m about to meet up with my sister, Hattie,” she says, batting her lashes a mile a minute as if she were trying to blink a gnat out of her eyes. “She’s the one I told you about, the one who’s been racking up a body count. You should come along. The two of you have a lot of dead things in common.”
I make a face. “I would love to.”
“We’d love to join, too,” Nettie says as she pulls Bess close.
“Yeah,” Bess says. “We’re not so keen on buckets and balls.”
Nettie nods. “We’d much rather garner some tips and tricks on how to woo the Grim Reaper from the two pros at hand.”
“Funny,” I say as Neelie leads us toward the Cottage Grill. I say a quick goodbye to Ransom and let him and the kids know we’ll meet up once we’re done.
“We’re meeting for dessert,” Neelie says as she points to the establishment next door. “But since you just ate, maybe you can have a drink.”
Bess lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh hon, we live on a cruise ship. Our bodies are primed to eat dessert at fifteen-minute intervals.”
I nod. “I usually say twenty minutes, but fifteen sounds more accurate.”
“Make it five for me,” Nettie says with a wink to Neelie. “These two are amateurs.”
We head into the Cottage Grill, a warm, cozy place with lots of dark wood furniture, dark wood floors, dim lighting, and large windows that show off the crisp fall day. Soft rock music bleats from above, the place is mostly packed with all of the same polished people I remember, and the same yummy scent of French fries that enlivens my senses.
Small pumpkins dot the tables and a stone fireplace crackles cheerfully along the far wall, adding a nice orange glow to everything and reminds us feverishly that it’s still fall.
Neelie leads us to a large round table near the windows where a dark-haired woman sits with two elderly ladies who look as if they’re having a rather lively conversation—or an argument, either or.
The young brunette stands to her feet and offers up a welcoming smile my way. “You must be Trixie,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Hattie Holiday.”
“So nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. Her eyes are the same shade of blue as Neelie’s, but there’s a sharpness in them, a curiosity that seems to see more than what’s on the surface.
“I’m actually the event coordinator here at the club. And these are my friends,” Hattie says, gesturing to the two women. “Peggy Ebersol and Clarabelle Harper. They’re members of the club as well.”
“I remember you ladies,” I say as I give a quick wave.
“Oh hon, we remember you,” Peggy says in a Georgia drawl that’s soaked in sweet tea. “Why, you’re practically a legend around these parts now—kicking your cheat of a husband to the curb and chasing sunsets in distant lands. Rumor has it, you found yourself a hottie and have been doin’ naughty things ever since.”
We break out into a laugh over that one, mostly because it’s true.
Peggy is a redhead with delicate features, but there’s a fire in her eyes—one that lets you know she’s not afraid to speak her mind or go after what she wants. And if I remember correctly, what she wants is men, and lots of them.
Clarabelle, on the other hand, looks as if she could be Nettie’s twin—same wild gray hair, same devil-may-care look in her mischievous eyes.
I quickly do the intros as we take a seat.
“Nice to meet you broads,” Clarabelle says with a wink.
“Nice to meet you broads, right back.” Nettie laughs. “I can tell we’re gonna get along just fine.”
“Welcome to Brambleberry Bay, ladies,” Peggy says. “We’ve got eligible men in the senior section that still have the two attributes I find most important.”
We collectively lean in and await her rather abbreviated list .
“Hair and money,” she says, and we break out into wild cackles once again.
Nettie elbows the woman as she laughs. “Tell me—are you always this delightful, or is today a special occasion?”
Peggy chuckles. “I’m always this delightful, sugar. Stick around, and you’ll see exactly how sticky-sweet I can be.”
Clarabelle squints at Nettie. “And I get the feeling you’re the exact kind of trouble I like to keep around.”
Bess tips her head. “She’s trouble, all right.”
We share another laugh and put in our order for dessert. Caramel apple cheesecake drizzled in caramel sauce all around. Hattie put in her order first, and the rest of us couldn’t resist.
No sooner does the waitress leave than Neelie launches into the story of what happened to her. She explains how she ended up in Merritt Garrett’s suite because she wanted to talk about the woman’s books because apparently, she’s a big fan, and she just wanted to hang out with her.
I hate to admit that I might have judged Neelie for never so much as picking up a book, let alone reading one. And I feel bad about thinking it, too.
Hattie leans back and takes a better look at her sister. “Oh, come on, Neelie. We both know you’ve hardly picked up a book, let alone read one.” She shoots a wry smile my way.
My mouth falls open because it’s as if Hattie Holiday just read my mind.