by Laura Childs
“Thank you, Haley,” Theodosia said. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Haley put her hands on her hips. “So. Your apps are ready whenever you want to take off. Just don’t forget to load the warming trays as well.”
“Apps?” Drayton said to her. “You mean like apps for your phone?”
Haley gave him a crooked grin. “How would you know about that?”
Drayton pretended to bristle. “For your information, Haley, I’m not totally ignorant. I don’t exist under a rock.”
“No,” Haley said, “you’re just a happy-go-lucky Luddite.”
13
Theodosia and Jamie carried in the half dozen hampers packed with food and discovered that Cotton Duck was already a madhouse. Racks of clothes and display shelves packed with scarves, bags, and jewelry had been jammed together, one against the other, so workers could put the finishing touches on the runway. Folding chairs were being set up amid tools and sawdust. Models in various states of undress were running around everywhere. And Delaine was in a complete tizzy.
“No, no, no!” Delaine screamed at her frazzled assistant, Janine. “Our VIPs sit in the front row! You need to check my seating chart!” She turned, blew a hank of hair out of her face, and noticed Theodosia standing there. “You’re here,” she said. “With our refreshments.”
“Actually, Chinese dim sum,” Theodosia said. “In keeping with your Silk Road theme.”
“Whatever,” Delaine snapped. She pulled down the front zip tab of her cream-colored silk jumpsuit to make it slightly more revealing, then made a one-handed rolling gesture. “Bring everything over here, I’ve got a table for you. And for goodness’ sake, don’t you dare let any food aromas drift in the direction of my clothing racks.”
“It’s lunch, Delaine. It’s supposed to smell good.”
Delaine tapped a foot nervously. “I’d rather it smelled good after the fashion show, okay?”
“No problem,” Theodosia said. She’d long since learned that it was easier to agree with Delaine than to argue with her. Besides, in two seconds Delaine would be fretting about something else. She had the concentration power of a gnat.
But Delaine hadn’t budged. “Who are you?” Delaine asked, eyeing Jamie with suspicion.
Caught in her slightly manic, thousand-watt stare, he said, “I’m J-Jamie.”
“Well, J-Jamie, you’d better get cracking. We haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“And don’t you dare ma’am me,” Delaine said. “Do I look old enough to be your mother?” Before Jamie could squeak out an answer, she said, “Of course not,” and rushed off toward the dressing rooms.
Theodosia and Jamie carried the hampers to the table Delaine had set up for them, plugged in the food warmers, and got everything as near ready as possible. Then, as Janine and her helpers shoved the clothing racks back into place, the guests began to arrive. Theodosia thanked Jamie for his help and sent him back to the tea shop.
When the store was put together again, Janine came over, looking like she’d just staggered off a battlefield.
“Are you hanging in there, Janine?” Theodosia asked her. Janine was Delaine’s long-suffering assistant, a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman who always looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her back. The only time Janine ever came alive was when she smiled. She had a fabulous smile, but it didn’t come often when Delaine was barking at her.
Janine shook her head. “It’s always like this, before every show. Delaine goes a little bit bonkers.”
“But it looks like it’s shaping up to be a wonderful show. I got a peek at your silks as I came in and they all look spectacular.”
“Wait until you see all the silk dresses and gowns and outfits on the models,” Janine said. She finally let a smile slip out. “Va-va-voom.”
With not a lot to do until after the fashion show, Theodosia wandered through the boutique. More guests had arrived and were eagerly looking around, shopping for one-of-a-kind fashion musts before taking their seats near the runway. They tried on sunglasses, fingered long strands of shimmering pearls, and admired displays of fancy ball gowns.
“Hello there,” came a voice at Theodosia’s elbow. “Looking for that special piece to fill out your summer wardrobe?”
Theodosia turned to find Alexis James, the owner of Haiku Gallery, smiling at her. “Actually, I’m serving the luncheon today.”
“Oh, what fun,” Alexis said. “If you need any help, just let me know.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I happen to know you’re one of Delaine’s special guests. In fact, I saw your name on one of the chairs in the very front row.”
Alexis waved a hand. “Oh, I’ve already checked out most of the clothes. You know how Delaine is . . .”
“Pushy,” Theodosia said, grinning.
“Enthusiastic, anyway. But can you blame her? The spring silks she’s showing really are spectacular.” Alexis kept up her friendly chatter as she followed Theodosia back to the buffet table. “I’ll probably pick up a couple pairs of silk slacks after all.” She glanced at the silver food warmers. “But I think what you’re doing right here looks like a lot more fun.” She slid open the top of one of the warmers and peeped in. “Ooh, are those egg rolls?” She giggled. “They look good enough to eat!”
“Fried spring rolls, shrimp toast, and steamed pork buns. Plus, I’ll be serving a nice Chinese black tea. As soon as everyone’s seated and the show gets underway, I’m going to turn up these warmers and get everything ready to go.”
“Heat and eat,” Alexis said. “Sounds good to me.”
“Alexis!” Delaine cried from across the room. “You’re seated in the front row, dear. Better hurry and take your seat.”
“Gotta go,” Alexis said, scampering off.
Theodosia got busy then. Filled her four-gallon commercial brewer with water, turned it on, set out two large teapots. Then, just as she was unpacking several dozen small ceramic teacups, Sissy Lanier bounded up to her table. Today she was dressed in a hot pink jacket, black leggings, and jewel-encrusted stilettos.
“Hey there,” Sissy said. “Delaine told me you were catering lunch today.”
“Nice to see you again,” Theodosia said. She debated asking Sissy about Bob Garver and decided, What could it hurt?
“Sissy,” Theodosia said, “are you acquainted with a developer by the name of Bob Garver?”
Sissy’s eyes went wild at the mere mention of Garver’s name. “That pirate?” she cried as she curled a lip in disdain. “You know he was Carson’s partner, don’t you? In a development called Gateway Gables.”
“I heard something about that. How . . . uh . . . how well do you know Garver?”
“I’ve never actually met the man,” Sissy said. “But I’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know that he’s a complete sleazeball.”
“But I understand Garver was working on a more recent project with your ex-husband,” Theodosia said. “Something about rehabbing Charleston single homes?”
Sissy tilted her head to one side in what Theodosia thought was a slightly studied manner. “He was?” she said. “I hadn’t heard about that project.”
Theodosia wondered what Sissy was trying to hide.
“You know nothing about them obtaining low-interest loans from the city?”
Sissy shook her head. “Nope. Not a thing.”
“Three point nine million dollars in loans?” Theodosia was positive that Sissy knew something. She was acting way too chirpy and innocent.
Now Sissy gave a dismissive shrug. “Sorry. This project is news to me.”
Theodosia studied her for a few more seconds. “Okay, I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Because you had kind of a funny look on yo
ur face.”
“Probably my low blood sugar,” Sissy said. “Whenever I skip breakfast I just start to crash.”
“Do you want something to munch on?” Theodosia offered. “To kind of tide you over until lunch?”
“That would be nice.” Now Sissy bubbled with enthusiasm again.
Theodosia grabbed two fried spring rolls, wrapped a piece of foil around them, and handed them to Sissy. “Here you go.” The DJ had just started to spin the opening music and everyone had taken their seats. “You’d better go sit down and watch the show.”
“Thanks,” Sissy said. “I will.” She turned and ducked away. And just as Sissy was about to take a bite of spring roll, she collided roughly with a woman who’d just come bombing through the front door.
“Hey!” the woman yelped as Sissy slammed up hard against her. The two fried spring rolls flew out of Sissy’s hands, hit the woman’s chest, and tumbled down the front of her yellow dress, leaving an enormous grease spot. Then the woman took a step backward, gaped at Sissy and shouted, “You!”
“Oh no,” Theodosia said. She’d just recognized the woman Sissy had collided with. It was Betty Bates!
At that precise moment, Delaine rushed over to help sort things out, the DJ jacked up the music, and a bevy of long-limbed twenty-two-year-old models began parading down the runway.
Theodosia decided it was like watching a three-ring circus. Delaine mopped at Betty’s dress with a wet wipe, Betty kept trying to shove Sissy away from her as if she carried some dreaded plague, the guests started screaming their heads off at the spectacular clothes, and the Beastie Boys song “Girls” clattered over the sound system.
The models whirled and twirled, Sissy stomped out of reach from Betty, no doubt cursing her under her breath, Betty slapped Delaine’s hands away from her, and the Beastie Boys continued to wail.
And then, for the buttercream icing on the lost-your-marbles cake, Bill Glass came schlumping into the boutique, multiple cameras strung around his neck, and began shooting photos.
Theodosia stood on tiptoe, trying to see how this merry little adventure would play out. Finally, the furor did die down slightly. Sissy retreated to a seat somewhere, while Delaine led Betty Bates to a prime chair in the front row, trying all the while to smooth Betty’s ruffled feathers.
Well, good luck with that.
But as the fashion show continued, Theodosia thanked her lucky stars that she never had to contend with diva behavior in her tea shop. No, she’d been lucky. Guests were generally well-mannered and tended to fall under the spell of the amazing tea aromas that permeated the air and seemed to promote relaxation. Definitely aromatherapy at its finest!
Theodosia got seriously busy then. Turning up the temperature on her warming trays, setting out the teacups, dumping the loose-leaf tea that Drayton had carefully measured out into her brewer. It wasn’t quite the same as making a pot of tea to order, but it would suffice for today.
Every few minutes Theodosia looked up to catch a bit of the show. And, thankfully, Delaine’s fashion show seemed to be checking all the boxes for the guests’ entertainment. The show was colorful, splashy, exuberant, loud, and exciting to watch.
Good. That meant all the guests would be in an upbeat mood when it came time to enjoy some Chinese dim sum.
Theodosia watched as the runway show wound down to its conclusion. Ten models, all dressed in Chinese silk dresses, gowns, and flowing outfits, marched down the runway. They carried red Chinese lanterns on long sticks and fluttered elegant fans in front of their faces. Wonderful! Then a brass gong rang out to signify the end.
The applause from the audience was deafening. So of course the models all came out again to take a final strut down the runway. And then Delaine hopped up onto the runway and blew tearful air kisses to everyone.
* * *
• • •
With the runway show concluded, Theodosia was busier than a one-eyed cat watching two mouseholes. She served dim sum, poured tea, and chatted amiably with all the women who crowded around her buffet table.
But the good juju didn’t last for long.
Betty Bates stalked up to the table and grabbed a cup of tea at the exact moment Sissy Lanier was putting a pork dumpling on her plate. And the dumpling wasn’t the only thing that was steamed.
Sissy, still upset from their earlier encounter, took one disdainful look at Betty and said, “A little bird told me you might be taking my husband’s place on the Heritage Society’s board of directors.”
“It’s none of your business what I do,” Betty shot back. She sounded angry, and the front of her dress still looked like she’d been squirted with hot grease. Which she kind of had been.
Sissy’s eyes took on a menacing gleam. “Oh no? You realize that board seat should rightfully belong to me.”
“Last time I looked, the Heritage Society didn’t allow killers on their board!” Betty shot back.
“You can’t be serious!” Sissy said, a sneer twisting her face. “When you’re the one who had an affair with Carson and then murdered him. You were probably gunning for his job all along! Which means you, of all people, had the biggest reason to want him dead!”
Now people all around had quieted down and were staring at the two women in rapt and total disbelief.
Betty’s face clouded with anger. “How dare you accuse me of murder, you lying freak.”
“You killed him,” Sissy shouted at the top of her lungs. “You killed my husband!”
“I did no such thing,” Betty shouted back. She glanced down at the cup of tea she held in her hand, set her mouth in a determined line, and tossed the hot liquid directly in Sissy’s face.
“Whuh!” Sissy shrieked. She reared back, stunned, her voice rising in a piteous, jangled cry that easily hit high C.
“Oh no,” Theodosia murmured. “Oh no.” The behavior she’d just witnessed was shocking and utterly insane. What dreadful thing could happen next?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Hands pulled into fists, still dripping wet, Sissy uttered a low growl and threw a right-hand punch that hit Betty square in the jaw and sent one of her pearl earrings flying. Betty, no slouch in the fine art of catfighting, hopped forward—bing, bing, bing—and put up both fists like some kind of cartoon kangaroo. Then, in a shocking, no-holds-barred fit of rage, the two women began to jab, slap, and hiss at each other. They circled one other, dodging and weaving like a pair of punch-drunk prizefighters. Bumping into guests as they hurled insults, they knocked over a rack of clothes as their ridiculous battle escalated. Now every guest in the place had circled round to watch them, eyes wide with surprise, mouths dropped open in total shock.
When Sissy and Betty stumbled in the direction of the buffet table, Theodosia gripped her teapot with both hands. She didn’t want to sustain any collateral damage and spew hot tea everywhere.
“Stop!” Delaine screeched. Her shrill scream rose above the din of mass confusion as she stepped into the circle and put out a hand to try to separate the two women. “Stop fighting this instant!”
But Sissy and Betty were too far gone to heed Delaine’s shouts. In fact, Betty escalated the fracas by gripping Sissy’s shoulders, shaking her hard, and then giving her a mighty shove backward. Sissy staggered back, arms flailing wildly, teetering dangerously on her high heels. At the very last second, just as Sissy tipped over backward, she managed to hook a finger in Betty’s belt and pulled her down with her.
BANG!
Tumbling like a couple of circus monkeys, the two women fell against a clothes rack, sending the whole thing crashing to the ground. Now they were sprawled on the floor, kicking and batting at each other atop a pile of silk blouses and scarves.
“This can’t be happening,” Theodosia groaned, while Bill Glass moved in close to get a better shot. It was a train wreck of epic proportions.
/> “Theo!” Delaine screamed above the clucking of the shocked onlookers. “Do something!”
Theodosia turned toward Delaine, an incredulous look on her face. “You want me to step in there and break up the fight?”
“Please, you have to,” Delaine implored. “Those women are crazy. They’re going to ruin everything.” Tears sparkled in Delaine’s eyes. “The clothes, my potential orders . . . my beautiful fashion show.” She clutched a hand to her breast as if in horrible pain. “This fight in the middle of my shop is crazy . . . plum crazy! They’re ruining my show!”
Technically, Delaine’s fashion show was already in shreds, but Theodosia did see her point. She glanced about, saw the stricken faces of the guests, then noticed a nearby display of ladies’ golf clothing. Two sporty-looking silver mannequins were all decked out in pink-and-white golf garb and holding the necessary sports equipment. Thinking fast, Theodosia grabbed a four iron from the nearest mannequin’s hand.
Wading into the fray, Theodosia flipped the club around and jabbed the splayed-out Betty in the shoulder. Hard. “Fight’s over, Betty. Time to go home.”
Betty cranked her head around and gaped at Theodosia. It was as if she were emerging from a dream state. As if she had no memory of throwing tea and clawing Sissy like a rabid wolverine.
Theodosia poked the golf club at Sissy, too, and mustered up her sternest voice. “Sissy, this means you, too. You’ve embarrassed yourself horribly and are no longer welcome here.”
Sissy crawled away from Betty on all fours and then struggled to her feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her chin quivered. “I buh— I buh—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Theodosia said.
Shaking with rage, Betty Bates slowly pulled herself to her feet. “She can’t get away with—”
“No,” Theodosia said in a firm voice, the kind of voice you use when potty training a puppy. “Both of you need to leave. Right now. Do not utter another word. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Betty snarled.
