Chambers,” Bree warned. “I mean it.”
Cissy sat down in a swirl of Prada perfume. “How are y’all? Antonia, you’re looking gorgeous, as usual. Bree, you’re looking more peaked by the day.”
She had changed for dinner into a tailored navy jacket, a green-apple silk turtleneck, and artfully worn jeans. “You need to put on ten pounds, and I never in this life thought I would say that to any woman.” She leaned across the table and gathered their hands into hers. “And aren’t I just the luckiest female this side of paradise? Don’t you just love my Prosper?” She released them and sat back with a sigh. “This dinner’s on me, darlins. I am just so happy!” The waitress hovered, and Cissy said, “A nice little Cosmopolitan for me. And one each for my girls. Now! You met with that awful Allard person, Bree.”
Startled, Bree looked at Antonia, who shrugged, “not me.” “Why would you say that, Aunt Cissy?”
“’Cause the little guttersnipe called me right after you left that trashy shop.”
“He did?”
“He did. What do you suppose he wanted?”
Bree had a hunch. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Wealthy divorcée Celia Carmichael made the “People about Town” column in the Savannah Chronicle on a regular basis. Her upcoming wedding to White had been news only last week. Chambers wanted money, and by now he undoubtedly had a pretty good idea of what her aunt could afford.
The waitress set the Cosmopolitans in front of them. Bree pushed hers aside. Cissy took a big sip, set the glass down, and said, “A private settlement, that’s what.”
“Oh my God,” Antonia said. “The man wants money. I knew it. I just knew it. This is plain lousy, Bree!”
“Would you like to order a starter?” the waitress said, clearly wanting to linger. “No rush about it. I can see y’all need to talk.”
“Artichoke cheese dip and fish tacos all around,” Cissy said. “Unless you girls want something else? No? That’ll be fine, then. You can bring it all at the same time, too. Thank you.”
Bree waited until the waitress was out of earshot. B. Mitchell’s was a big, low-ceilinged room with a bar across the long wall at the back and round tables set well apart from one another. As long as Antonia kept her voice down, it was one of Savannah’s better spots for private conversation. “Did he mention a figure?”
“Fifty thousand dollars. Said I’d spend that much in legal fees defending poor Prosper, and I might just as well give it to him now unless I wanted my future husband’s name drawn through the mud.” Cissy bit her lower lip. Then she tossed back the rest of her Cosmopolitan.
“What did you say to him?”
“I hung up on the little bastard, of course.”
Bree rubbed her face with both hands. “Okay,” she said finally. “What do you want to do?”
“I thought I’d ask you,” Cissy said, rather pitifully. “Chambers could get on the stand and tell all kinds of lies about Prosper, couldn’t he?”
“Or all kinds of truths,” Antonia muttered.
“What’s that? What’s that?”
Bree gave Antonia a shut-up glare.
“Nothing,” Antonia said.
Cissy bit her lip, then turned in her chair and waved to the bartender. “I swear they make these drinks with as little vodka as possible. Another round here, please? Besides,” she added in a braver tone, “it’d just about wreck my plans for the honeymoon. What if we had to come back to testify or whatever? I’m thinkin’ fifty thousand’s little enough to pay for peace of mind.”
“I’m thinking that’s crazy,” Antonia said. “And why should you pay anything, anyway? It’s White’s problem. Let him settle it.”
Bree had the same question. She searched for a tactful approach. “Does he have available funds?”
“Of course he doesn’t!” Cissy snapped. “He’s an artist! I thought that was understood, Bree. As for you, Antonia . . . Of all people, I thought you’d have some
Cissy sat down in a swirl of Prada perfume. “How are y’all? Antonia, you’re looking gorgeous, as usual. Bree, you’re looking more peaked by the day.”
She had changed for dinner into a tailored navy jacket, a green-apple silk turtleneck, and artfully worn jeans. “You need to put on ten pounds, and I never in this life thought I would say that to any woman.” She leaned across the table and gathered their hands into hers. “And aren’t I just the luckiest female this side of paradise? Don’t you just love my Prosper?” She released them and sat back with a sigh. “This dinner’s on me, darlins. I am just so happy!” The waitress hovered, and Cissy said, “A nice little Cosmopolitan for me. And one each for my girls. Now! You met with that awful Allard person, Bree.”
Startled, Bree looked at Antonia, who shrugged, “not me.” “Why would you say that, Aunt Cissy?”
“’Cause the little guttersnipe called me right after you left that trashy shop.”
“He did?”
“He did. What do you suppose he wanted?”
Bree had a hunch. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Wealthy divorcée Celia Carmichael made the “People about Town” column in the Savannah Chronicle on a regular basis. Her upcoming wedding to White had been news only last week. Chambers wanted money, and by now he undoubtedly had a pretty good idea of what her aunt could afford.
The waitress set the Cosmopolitans in front of them. Bree pushed hers aside. Cissy took a big sip, set the glass down, and said, “A private settlement, that’s what.”
“Oh my God,” Antonia said. “The man wants money. I knew it. I just knew it. This is plain lousy, Bree!”
“Would you like to order a starter?” the waitress said, clearly wanting to linger. “No rush about it. I can see y’all need to talk.”
“Artichoke cheese dip and fish tacos all around,” Cissy said. “Unless you girls want something else? No? That’ll be fine, then. You can bring it all at the same time, too. Thank you.”
Bree waited until the waitress was out of earshot. B. Mitchell’s was a big, low-ceilinged room with a bar across the long wall at the back and round tables set well apart from one another. As long as Antonia kept her voice down, it was one of Savannah’s better spots for private conversation. “Did he mention a figure?”
“Fifty thousand dollars. Said I’d spend that much in legal fees defending poor Prosper, and I might just as well give it to him now unless I wanted my future husband’s name drawn through the mud.” Cissy bit her lower lip. Then she tossed back the rest of her Cosmopolitan.
“What did you say to him?”
“I hung up on the little bastard, of course.”
Bree rubbed her face with both hands. “Okay,” she said finally. “What do you want to do?”
“I thought I’d ask you,” Cissy said, rather pitifully. “Chambers could get on the stand and tell all kinds of lies about Prosper, couldn’t he?”
“Or all kinds of truths,” Antonia muttered.
“What’s that? What’s that?”
Bree gave Antonia a shut-up glare.
“Nothing,” Antonia said.
Cissy bit her lip, then turned in her chair and waved to the bartender. “I swear they make these drinks with as little vodka as possible. Another round here, please? Besides,” she added in a braver tone, “it’d just about wreck my plans for the honeymoon. What if we had to come back to testify or whatever? I’m thinkin’ fifty thousand’s little enough to pay for peace of mind.”
“I’m thinking that’s crazy,” Antonia said. “And why should you pay anything, anyway? It’s White’s problem. Let him settle it.”
Bree had the same question. She searched for a tactful approach. “Does he have available funds?”
“Of course he doesn’t!” Cissy snapped. “He’s an artist! I thought that was understood, Bree. As for you, Antonia . . . Of all people, I thought you’d have some
Similar Books
