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wondered if the 'little Tail' was under-aged, providing
     Joy with additional leverage during the property settlement phase.
    'Sal moved Frat Pack Night to this weekend just for you, I presume?'
    'Honey, we are
the Frat Pack.' Joy stuck a cigarette in her mouth. 'You'll be there, right?' she
     mumbled around the cancer-stick while digging for a lighter.
    'Of course. I'm meeting Bobby for drinks at seven.'
    'Great.' Joy unearthed a psychedelic pink-and-green lighter and turned to AnnaLise's
     mother as she thumbed the wheel on it. 'Daisy-girl, I hear you―'
    Splat.
    'No smoking.' Mama set down AnnaLise's now empty milk glass and got up to tend the
     cash register.
    Joy surveyed the creamed lighter. 'Well, this is one collector's edition Bic that's
     never going to flick again.'
    'Probably for the best,' AnnaLise said. 'The seventies are dead, and you will be,
     too, if you don't stop smoking.'
    'Says the woman eating rum cake at ten a.m.'
    'With a healthy glass of milk,' AnnaLise pointed out. 'At least, until rather recently.'
    Joy sniffed, then wrinkled her nose again. 'Oh, my gawd. Is this whole milk? Warm
     whole milk?'
    'Warm, because I didn't drink it,' AnnaLise said defensively. 'Besides, I'm running
     again. I can splurge occasionally.'
    Though it sure as hell wouldn't be on a glass of milk. A slice of the German chocolate
     cake that Mama had mentioned came to mind.
    'I'm in training, too.' Joy pulled a thin paper napkin out of the dispenser on the
     table and set her lighter on it. A dribble of milk leaked from where the flame should
     be.
    'But still smoking?'
    'Even a journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.'
    'And a paroxysm of coughing.' She gave Joy a shove so she could slip out of the booth.
     'I'll see you tonight, but now I want to drop in on our tenant. You coming, Daisy?'
    'Of course. You'll love what Tucker's done to the store,' Mother Griggs said as she
     followed.
    Mama just waved them past the cash register. Not that she needed to. Daisy had long
     ago given up trying to pay for her food at Mama's and, for AnnaLise, it would be like
     handing her mother a fiver for making coffee in the morning. The thought never even
     occurred to her. Which was why learning how to dine in other
people's restaurants when she went away to school had been such an adventure. Happily,
     one that ended without jail time .
    Joy trailed mother and daughter, making AnnaLise wonder why her friend had entered
     in the first place. God forbid the woman should ever eat
something.
    'I haven't been to Torch for a show,' Joy said, 'but I've heard good things about
     it.'
    'I'm really glad.' AnnaLise stepped out of Mama's and held the door for Daisy and
     Joy. 'The Stantons put a lot of money into retrofitting the old market into a nightclub.'
    'Starting any new business is expensive,' Joy said. 'And banks are pretty stodgy now
     about giving loans.'
    Joy's tone made it sound like she was speaking from personal experience. The last
     AnnaLise had heard, Joy — the smoker — was managing a fitness club somewhere in Indiana.
    'So how's your
business going?'
    'Going?' Joy spread her hands wide. 'More like, going, going, gone.'
    'I'm sorry.'
    'Don't be.' Joy gave her a wink. 'I've got a can't-miss venture in the works.'
    'Are you going to tell us about it?' Daisy had been lagging behind, letting the friends
     talk, but apparently she wanted in on any news.
    'Not yet.' An enigmatic smile from Joy. 'But your little hometown here is
involved.'
    AnnaLise's cellphone gave a two-tone ping, indicating a new text message. She glanced
     at it and hit delete, but not before noting the time. 'It's not quite eleven thirty.
     Will Tucker be at work already?'
    'Of course,' Daisy said, leading the way down the block. 'Torch is open all day.'
    'They're serving lunch, too?' To AnnaLise's knowledge, the Stantons had obtained a
     liquor license and created a small kitchen in one corner in order to offer light hors
     d'oeuvres during club