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Ashley balled up her napkin and agreed. “Yes, but when did we ever use the worddilly?”

Mary Beth laughed. “We use it whenever there’s a chance that a man has his underwear starched and pressed.”

“Ha!” Ashley choked. “He probably does, though we’ll never know.”

Mary Beth gathered her purse as Ashley collected their trash.

“Are you ready?” Mary Beth turned away, not waiting for her answer.

“Ms. Cartwright.”

Ashley let her eyes sink shut at the familiar sound of Bitsy calling from behind them.

“Oh boy,” Mary Beth muttered. “We didn’t make it away unscathed.”

They both waved, and Ashley mumbled her agreement. “It’s going to be one of those days.”

“I can’t handle this heat.” Bitsy waved hello and beckoned, ambling by their table with every assumption that Ashley and Mary Beth would follow. They did.

Both girls pushed in their heavy bistro chairs, which scratched against the sidewalk. Ashley hurried to throw their napkins away and catch up before Bitsy started in on whatever she wanted them to hear.

The older woman had a way about her. Ashley was sure that in her heyday, Bitsy was the life of the party. She still was in her own way. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine Bitsy dancing on a barstool in a minidress. But that may have been a decade or two or three ago. A minidress and heels were a far cry from the orthopedic-yet-stylish sandals and the designer linen beachwear Bitsy was wearing today. Ashley knew that outfit was one of many in the woman’s expensive wardrobe rotation.

“We’re like puppies,” Ashley mumbled under her breath, knowing Mary Beth could hear. “We come when called.”

“Maybe we’ll earn a treat.” Mary Beth cracked herself up.

Bitsy turned around sharply, and Ashley thought they were busted.

“Lemonades?” Bitsy announced more than asked before urging them up the two steps next to her and propping open the split double doors to The Aspen.

Air-conditioning washed over Ashley. At once, she became aware of how sticky her skin felt from relaxing in the sun and how frizzy her hair had probably become from the beach wind. At least she still wore a cute dress.

The Aspen was an upscale restaurant that leaned toward an older, expensive crowd that enjoyed their lunches. Several of Ashley’s clients could be found holding court over drinks with crushed ice in crystal tumblers at this restaurant on a regular basis.

The host greeted Bitsy like she was a queen then escorted her with a familiar-yet-formal manner.

“Do you think Bitsy knows who’s eating at Montgomery’s right now?” Mary Beth asked as they trailed the woman.

Absolutely, Ashley thought as she waved to an old family friend. “I’d say that is exactly why Bitsy has us here now. She loves when tongues wag.”

Mary Beth walked to one side of the table and grinned. Ashley took the seat across from Bitsy, to Mary Beth’s left, and mentally noted the very public table. Bitsy acknowledged a few people in the room with a smile or a flick of her wrist then ordered drinks for the three of them without menus or discussion. Watermelon and lemon juice, sweetened with sugarcane, over crushed ice.

That might not have been what Ashley would have ordered, but it sounded amazing.

Bitsy leaned back in her chair. “Now that it’s just us girls, let’s talk turkey.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A cool beach breeze blew over the Blackthorne estate’s deck as the screen of Phillip’s cell phone illuminated at a quarter past seven in the morning. He wasn’t a morning person but liked to finish the majority of his day’s work by eight a.m., when others first started their day.

He glanced at the screen on his phone and saw Robert Paget’s name displayed. His morning calm was shattered by catapulted nerves. This was the phone call he and Ashley had been waiting for. Phillip was certain there were no more questions to ask and no more points to negotiate. Yes or no, he would know the answer.

Phillip answered. “Good morning, Mr. Paget.”

“Did I wake you?” Mr. Paget asked.

“No, sir. I’m actually starting to wrap up my workday.”

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