you?” She moved to a quieter corner toward the front of the room.
Returning with our drinks, Freddy rolled his eyes. “Must be Justine.”
Freddy had linked Claire and Justine. I’d seen Justine outside in the hall before I knocked on the door. What was their connection?
“Why did you say that about Claire and Justine?” I asked him.
Freddy’s answer was drowned out as cries of “Bonnie” and “Rick” rang out. A middle-aged couple dressed in matching plaid shirts came in. The room was filling up quickly.
“I know, it’s not really funny that Justine borrows money from Claire,” Freddy said.
“What are you talking about? Why would Claire lend money to Justine?” I asked.
A large bang jump-started my heart. Freddy and I looked in the direction of the noise. Across the room, a large man with a sweater vest almost covering his belly was standing. His table was still rocking from his fist pounding. His beer glass was raised high, slopping the liquid over the side. He licked his hand and lifted his glass even higher.
“To Claire!” he shouted. “Claire, who had the biggest balls in the business. May she rest in peace.”
A cheer went up from the crowd.
“News travels fast in this place,” I said to Freddy, over the din.
“What else would people talk about?” he said. “It was too good to ignore—the woman who taught the world to rotary cut, the queen of strip-piecing, falling on her rotary cutter? How much more Siegfried and Roy can you get?”
I cringed at Freddy’s characterization.
“Which one was it that got eaten by the tiger?” he continued, hand on his chin. “Roy? No, Siegfried. Or is that the same person? I can never remember.”
A rash of toasts broke out from all corners of the room. I swiveled, trying to follow the cheers from my chair.
“To Claire, who taught quilting to the klutzy, math-challenged, uncreative masses,” a brassy blond chimed in from her bar stool.
“To Claire, whose sense of decency never got in her way.”
“To Claire, who never met a dollar bill she didn’t like.”
From behind me, a stout woman in black jeans and a red denim jacket said, “Remember that time Claire arrived at the Extravaganza by helicopter?”
“Scaring every living creature within a square mile,” another woman put in.
“How about that time she decided to decorate the fountain out front to match her latest quilt? The dye killed every plant within a hundred yards. She didn’t know the water was recycled into the sprinkler system.”
A roar of laughter filled the space.
Eve came back to the table. She picked up her drink and took a deep sip. “To Claire! That rotten bitch. May she rot in hell!” she said, low enough that only Freddy and I heard her.
We exchanged a glance. Freddy watched Eve over his glass, his reptilian eyes following her as she tossed back the rest of her drink. Eve turned, her face creased with a false smile. “At least Justine’s up a thousand dollars.”
“Up a thousand dollars?” I said, not understanding her meaning.
“Gambling,” Freddy put in, sotto voce.
Eve shot him a look and explained to me, “She’s playing poker at the local card club. That’s how she blows off steam.”
I tried to hide my surprise that a woman like Justine had spent the day gambling. It seemed kind of tacky.
“You okay with that?” I asked Eve, trying to keep the judgment out of my voice.
“Why not? She always comes home when she’s finished,” she said defensively. “Granted, it would have been nice if she’d told me where she was going. She thought she was on track with the fashion show, figured she wouldn’t have to deal with anything until tomorrow. She’ll be back later. It’s fine.”
“Whatever gets you through the night,” Freddy said.
Eve took a sip of her second martini and glared at him. I felt like a kid in the crossfire of an adult argument. I didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but it was uncomfortable. I tried to move
Returning with our drinks, Freddy rolled his eyes. “Must be Justine.”
Freddy had linked Claire and Justine. I’d seen Justine outside in the hall before I knocked on the door. What was their connection?
“Why did you say that about Claire and Justine?” I asked him.
Freddy’s answer was drowned out as cries of “Bonnie” and “Rick” rang out. A middle-aged couple dressed in matching plaid shirts came in. The room was filling up quickly.
“I know, it’s not really funny that Justine borrows money from Claire,” Freddy said.
“What are you talking about? Why would Claire lend money to Justine?” I asked.
A large bang jump-started my heart. Freddy and I looked in the direction of the noise. Across the room, a large man with a sweater vest almost covering his belly was standing. His table was still rocking from his fist pounding. His beer glass was raised high, slopping the liquid over the side. He licked his hand and lifted his glass even higher.
“To Claire!” he shouted. “Claire, who had the biggest balls in the business. May she rest in peace.”
A cheer went up from the crowd.
“News travels fast in this place,” I said to Freddy, over the din.
“What else would people talk about?” he said. “It was too good to ignore—the woman who taught the world to rotary cut, the queen of strip-piecing, falling on her rotary cutter? How much more Siegfried and Roy can you get?”
I cringed at Freddy’s characterization.
“Which one was it that got eaten by the tiger?” he continued, hand on his chin. “Roy? No, Siegfried. Or is that the same person? I can never remember.”
A rash of toasts broke out from all corners of the room. I swiveled, trying to follow the cheers from my chair.
“To Claire, who taught quilting to the klutzy, math-challenged, uncreative masses,” a brassy blond chimed in from her bar stool.
“To Claire, whose sense of decency never got in her way.”
“To Claire, who never met a dollar bill she didn’t like.”
From behind me, a stout woman in black jeans and a red denim jacket said, “Remember that time Claire arrived at the Extravaganza by helicopter?”
“Scaring every living creature within a square mile,” another woman put in.
“How about that time she decided to decorate the fountain out front to match her latest quilt? The dye killed every plant within a hundred yards. She didn’t know the water was recycled into the sprinkler system.”
A roar of laughter filled the space.
Eve came back to the table. She picked up her drink and took a deep sip. “To Claire! That rotten bitch. May she rot in hell!” she said, low enough that only Freddy and I heard her.
We exchanged a glance. Freddy watched Eve over his glass, his reptilian eyes following her as she tossed back the rest of her drink. Eve turned, her face creased with a false smile. “At least Justine’s up a thousand dollars.”
“Up a thousand dollars?” I said, not understanding her meaning.
“Gambling,” Freddy put in, sotto voce.
Eve shot him a look and explained to me, “She’s playing poker at the local card club. That’s how she blows off steam.”
I tried to hide my surprise that a woman like Justine had spent the day gambling. It seemed kind of tacky.
“You okay with that?” I asked Eve, trying to keep the judgment out of my voice.
“Why not? She always comes home when she’s finished,” she said defensively. “Granted, it would have been nice if she’d told me where she was going. She thought she was on track with the fashion show, figured she wouldn’t have to deal with anything until tomorrow. She’ll be back later. It’s fine.”
“Whatever gets you through the night,” Freddy said.
Eve took a sip of her second martini and glared at him. I felt like a kid in the crossfire of an adult argument. I didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but it was uncomfortable. I tried to move
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