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“I just had a conversation with your brother.”
    “Did he try to charm or threaten you?” A smile tugged at his lips, and I noticed he was the antithesis of his pale brother with his wavy dark brown hair and black eyes. More intense too. The image of him in Galbraith’s office came to mind.
    “A little of both, but mostly threaten.”
    “That’s usually how he works.”
    “Leonard, there you are.” Her greeting and the staccato clicks of her black designer heels announced the appearance of a tall woman with emerald eyes. Her milk-white skin glowed in the half-light, and her black hair fell in soft curls to midway down her back. She, too, wore a light leather jacket, but underneath was a ruby red dress that left very little to the imagination. I couldn’t really see her purse, but I guessed it cost more than my car.
    “Kyra Ellison, this is Joanie Fisher.”
    “Doctor Joanie Fisher, actually.” I had to do something to get back on equal footing with this woman.
    “Charmed.” She held her hand out for me to shake, but the limpness in her fingers told me she considered it—and me—a waste of time.
    “Enjoy your evening,” I told them and half-turned to go, but then I made an about-face.
    “Do you know where my friend and I could get dinner?” I asked.
    “Well, we’re on our way to Choucroute, a French place here in town.” Kyra frowned at my attire as though to suggest I was horridly underdressed.
    “Hmm, we just had French for dinner last night.”
    “Then you might want to try Tabitha’s. It’s a good casual American place.”
    “Thanks.”
    Kyra grabbed Leonard’s arm and turned him away.
    “Nice to meet you,” I called after them. Damn, I was feeling insecure. Lonna, with her Italian beauty, never had that effect on me. But then, no one would describe her as a “snob”. Kyra Ellison definitely qualified as one. And a bitch to boot.
     
     
    Tabitha’s was a pub-style restaurant with a full bar against the back wall, which hid the kitchen from view. The dark wood paneling gave the place a snug feel in spite of the large mirrors that hung behind the bar and on the top half of the walls behind the booths. Candles in Mason jars flickered on the tables and provided most of the low light that suffused the restaurant.
    “We’ve got to find a grocery store,” I remarked to Lonna after we gave the hostess my name and the other diners in the restaurant—all six of them—looked up with curiosity. After Robert had dumped me, I’d wished to be more noticeable. The notoriety had now worn thin, and part of me wished I could just go back to my apartment in Memphis, crawl in bed and wake up to find all of it from the fire onward had been a bad dream.
    The hostess reappeared with menus and a smile and seated us in a booth near the front of the restaurant. No sooner had we opened the menus than a young man appeared. His name tag said, “Ted, Manager”.
    “Welcome to Tabitha’s, Miz Fisher,” he told me.
    “Doctor Fisher, actually,” Lonna broke in. I kicked her under the table.
    The young man wasn’t fazed. “Doctor Fisher and Miss…”
    “Marconi, Lonna Marconi.”
    “A friend,” I explained.
    “Of course.” He winked. “I just wanted to come over and say hello and I hope we’ll be seeing much more of you. Please accept this complimentary appetizer.”
    Another waiter placed a plate of stuffed mushrooms and two little plates on the table along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
    “Your grandfather appeared in town only rarely, but these were his favorites.”
    “And how much is the wine?” asked Lonna.
    I cringed. I didn’t want any more attention, and Lonna’s directness was getting plenty of stares.
    “Compliments of an admirer.” The corner of Ted’s mouth twitched as he opened the wine, a red blend from California. It occurred me he thought Lonna and I were partners. “I’ll give you ladies a moment to look over the menu and be back to take your order.”
    “An