Delaine held it to her nose. “Thank you,” she blubbered.
Theodosia sat down across from Delaine and poured her a cup of tea, pushed it across the table to her.
“I’ve acted like an idiot,” Delaine said. “Put money and prestige ahead of family and friends.” She blew her nose delicately and gazed at Theodosia with a mournful expression. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“The real question is, can you forgive yourself?” Theodosia said.
Delaine cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Honey, you’re not the terrible person you think you are. You’ve just endured a horrendous shock. And face it, you’re a little high-strung to begin with.”
Delaine nodded in agreement. “I am. I’ll be the first one to admit that.”
“What’s most important is that you take care of yourself and look after Bettina as well. She’s your immediate family, and she’s still young and impressionable.”
Delaine took a tentative sip of tea and said, “Bettina and I had a heart-to-heart talk this morning. I mean, we really went deep.”
“And?”
“The amazing thing is that Bettina forgives me.” Delaine took another sip of tea, then blotted her lips. “She said she completely understood why I’d reacted the way I did and how I’d probably reached my absolute tipping point. That I hadn’t been myself all week.”
“There you go,” Theodosia said.
“Can you believe how mature she is?” Delaine dug in her bag for a mirrored compact. “For goodness’ sake, I don’t think I’m that mature.”
Theodosia wisely remained silent.
26
With some gentle urging from Theodosia, Delaine stayed for lunch. Settled in with a pot of tea, a luncheon plate, and a few questions about Eddie Fox.
“I can’t believe you and Drayton found him,” Delaine said as she nibbled the top off a carrot muffin.
“Neither can we,” Theodosia said.
“He must have been one of the drug dealers . . . from the Orchard House Inn, I mean.”
“We’re leaning that way as well.”
“Are you still . . . investigating?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to quiz Harv and Marv when we get to the Concours d’Carolina.” Theodosia checked her watch. “Drayton and I will be leaving in about five minutes. Haley’s packing the last of the appetizers now.”
Delaine gave a wistful look. “I was planning to go. But now, with everything so upended . . .”
“You shouldn’t,” Theodosia hastened to say. “Stay here, finish your lunch, then go home and take it easy. Put your tootsies up and cuddle with your cat. You’ve not only had a tragic loss, you’ve been working at a feverish pace all week long. So chances are any reserves you might have had are completely drained.”
“I do feel a little peaked.”
Theodosia patted Delaine’s shoulder as she stood up. “Of course you do. But I promise, you will be fine.”
“Ready?” Drayton asked as Theodosia approached the counter.
“Yup,” Theodosia said. “Let’s do it.” She turned and waved at Miss Dimple. “Miss Dimple?” she mouthed. “It’s all yours.”
They hauled wicker baskets, picnic hampers, and coolers out to Theodosia’s Jeep and packed everything in tight.
“Oops, there’s one more,” Theodosia said as she passed Drayton the final hamper.
Drayton shoved a cooler aside, frowned, mumbled something to himself, and proceeded to wedge in the hamper, but just barely.
“This reminds me of a tricky Chinese puzzle,” he said.
They both held their breath as he closed the back hatch.
* * *
* * *
Driving through the stone gates of the Juniper Bay Country Club, Theodosia felt like a country cousin in her basic, somewhat ordinary Jeep. Because all around her were shiny, ultra-luxe exotic cars. She spotted a Porsche, Ferrari, Mercedes Benz, and Tesla. And those were just the cars driven by guests!
A man in a reflective yellow vest waved as he stepped out of a gatehouse.
Theodosia rolled down her window.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “Welcome to the Concours d’Carolina. Do you have your tickets handy?”
“We’re the caterers for the Lemon Squeeze Couture hospitality tent,” she said.
“Oh sure, you’re on the list,” the gate guy said. He held a hand up to his forehead and squinted. “Follow the road to your left, drive right on past the clubhouse, and you’ll spot the yellow tent.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“So this is what the Concours d’Carolina is all about,” Drayton said as they bumped along, passing dozens of cars carefully parked on the manicured lawn, some even residing on their own room-sized carpets, like mini principalities. “Classic cars, high-test cars, collector cars. Quite a sight.”
“I’m getting sticker shock just looking at these gorgeous autos,” Theodosia said. The entire lawn surrounding the country club was filled with cars, strolling guests, colorful tents, and fluttering banners. There had to be almost ten acres’ worth of activities.
“Such gorgeous weather, too. Blue sky, lovely breeze.”
“And everyone’s dressed to the nines,” Theodosia said. She’d spotted lots of linen jackets, spring dresses, and hats. Panama hats on the men and large-brimmed straw hats on the women. Almost like the Kentucky Derby, she thought.
“Okay, there’s the clubhouse,” Drayton said as they drove past an enormous plantation-style building. It was painted yellow with white shutters, had a wide front porch and an enormous patio filled with tables that sported yellow and white umbrellas where guests sat sipping drinks.
“And there’s a line of tents up ahead,” Theodosia said. “I’m guessing we can just pull in back and unload.”
“Works for me,” Drayton said.
They found their tent among other sponsors’ tents—Coronet Classic Cars, Mower’s Fine Jewelry, Trembleau Wines, White Swan Vodka, Velacci Tires, and Touchstone Media.
Marvin Chauvet came out to greet them. He was wearing navy blue slacks with a matching golf shirt. A yellow cashmere sweater was slung around his shoulders and knotted in front.
“You found us,” he said. “Good. We’ve got two tables set up inside right alongside our bar.” He rattled the ice in his glass of amber liquid. “Which, I can happily attest, is fully operational.”