Read Online Permanently Booked by Lisa Q. Mathews - Free Book Online Page B

“Sorry, I think I got carried away. Does anyone want some fries or anything?” He pointed toward the steaming plate with his knife. “Happy to share.”
    Those fries did smell amazing. “No, thanks,” Summer said, trying to get herself up gracefully from the lounge chair with her towel still in place. “I’m going to a dinner party tonight, actually, so I have to save my appetite.”
    That would be a first. She never lost her appetite.
    “Oh, okay,” Jennifer said, sounding unsure. “Have fun.”
    “I’ll be talking with you again soon, I’m sure.” Detective Donovan waved his fork.
    Count on it , Summer told him silently as she headed to retrieve her phone and pool bag. He’d need to congratulate her and Dorothy when they hauled in Lorella Caldwell’s killer.

Chapter Five
    “ Bon soir , Madame Dorothy. You are late.”
    Dorothy smiled down at the little girl in the purple taffeta party dress and matching Mary Janes who greeted them at the door of the Hamel-Bernard residence. “You’re right, Juliette-Margot,” she said. “Please accept our apologies.”
    Their handsome host, thirtyish Dash Hamel, shook his head as he came up behind his daughter, martini in hand. “That wasn’t exactly the etiquette we’ve been working on,” he said.
    “Juliette-Margot is très désolée ,” the little girl told Dorothy, just as Summer and Ernie Conlon came up from parking the car across the elaborate Spanish-style courtyard. “That means ‘very sorry’ in French.” She turned back to her father, with a slight frown. “But it is seven-thirty, Papa. Juliette-Margot has been waiting forever.”
    Dash sighed. “Please come on in, everyone.”
    “My fault, JM.” Summer stepped through the doorway, in her simple, perfectly fitted lime-green shift.
    “That’s okay.” The little girl took Summer’s hand—the two had matching pink pedicures, Dorothy noticed—and gazed up at her adoringly.
    “Cute kid, but why does she call herself by her own name like that?” Ernie whispered to Dorothy as they followed the rest of the group through the tiled foyer.
    “I’m not sure,” Dorothy said. Juliette-Margot was almost six, with her own, very definite sense of style. “But it’s quite endearing, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, sure. I guess.” Ernie, dressed in checkered golf pants and a red polo shirt, handed Dash the Publix flowers, the bottle of wine, and a box of mint-liqueur chocolates. He had carefully slicked back his salt-and-pepper hair for the occasion. “Thanks for letting me join you all.”
    “Glad to have you,” Dash said, with an easy smile. He wore a casual but perfectly tailored navy blazer, a crisp white shirt, and immaculate khaki trousers. “Mother loves a party. The bigger, the better.”
    “Whatever is keeping you, darling?” a deep voice called from the lanai off the spacious, open living room. “Are those your friends you promised? Do come out here so I can meet them.”
    “ Grandmère , this is Summer,” Juliette-Margot said, taking Summer by the hand and pulling her out onto the lanai festooned with white Japanese lanterns.
    Georgiana Hamel, perhaps a decade younger than Dorothy—or perhaps not, judging from her taut, unlined skin and carefully chiseled cheekbones—was ensconced in a black-lacquered palm chair, wearing a flowing bloodred caftan. Her hair was done up in a matching head scarf. One equally red curl hung down the middle of her forehead, directly between her highly arched, painted eyebrows.
    GH Hamel was one of the few authors Dorothy had seen in person whose book jacket photo exactly matched her actual appearance. Certainly, no one could ever miss her in a crowd—even in New York.
    “Hello, darling,” Georgiana said to Summer. “Aren’t you a looker! Dashiell has told me so much about you.” She smiled, her heavy gold bracelets clattering as she grasped Summer’s wrist with long, red-taloned fingers. A large bloodstone displayed in an intricate gold setting