Page 138 of Hello, Summer
“She’s good. Busy with the grandkids and volunteering at church,” he said. He gestured at Conley. “And who’s this young lady? Seems like I see a family resemblance.”
“This is Sarah Conley, my other granddaughter,” G’mama said. “She’s working with Grayson at theBeacon.”
“Temporarily,” Conley put in.
“I’m guessing, Miz Lorraine, you want one of your sunsetter drinks, and Gray, you’re Tanqueray and tonic, I know, but what about you, Miz Sarah Conley?”
“Maybe just a seltzer with a slice of lime, please. I’ve got a long night ahead of me,” she said. Grayson sighed dramatically. “Make mine weak, but yes, a Tanqueray and tonic is just what the doctor ordered.”
After their drinks arrived, Grayson took a pen from her pocketbook and began doodling on the cocktail napkin.
G’mama peered at her from across the table. “What’s that you’re drawing?”
“Hmm? Just starting to think about my story budget for the digital edition. Conley and Mike will share a byline, and then we’ll hold a slot for whatever Rowena comes up with for her column.”
G’mama stirred her drink, sipped, and nodded her approval. “That was an extraordinary moment at the funeral today, didn’t you think? When Charlie acknowledged Toddie and her children?”
“I think he got some kind of sick satisfaction out of rubbing them in Vanessa’s face,” Grayson said.
“I was watching her at the moment he made that bullshit statement about forgiveness,” Conley said. “I couldn’t see her face from where I was sitting, because she was staring down at her lap. Charlie definitely didn’t help Symmes reunite with the other family out of the goodness of his heart.”
“Then what’s his agenda?” Grayson asked. “You know he’s got one.”
“I think it’s about power. The Little Prince wants his father’s seat in the House. And he’ll mow down anybody who gets in his way. Even his own mother,” Conley said.
G’mama looked across the room and waved. “Look. Here’s Sean.”
Skelly’s unknotted tie hung loosely around his neck, and he slipped out of his blazer and hung it on the back of the chair. The bartender arrived at their table a moment later with a cold draft beer and a small bowl of mixed nuts.
“Thanks, Artie,” Skelly said, taking a long gulp of beer. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Man, I needed that,” he declared. “Whose idea was it to have that reception at a church that forbids alcohol?”
“The altar guild had no choice. The Baptists have the biggest church downtown,” G’mama told him. “And the best parking.”
“How come y’all left so early? You missed the fireworks.”
“George McFall kicked me out, and Gray got hounded out by a bunch of old biddies,” Conley said. “What fireworks? What happened?”
“I’m just messing with you,” Skelly said. “I didn’t actually see any bad behavior. From what I could tell, Team Charlie and Team Vanessastaked out territory on opposite sides of the gym, with the food tables in the demilitarized zone. It was all very genteel.”
“It was weird as hell, if you ask me,” Conley said, sipping her seltzer. “I saw poor Toddie and her two kids looking totally adrift.”
“I can’t imagine why they turned up today,” G’mama said. “It must have been terribly awkward for them.”
“Toddie and I spoke briefly as she was leaving,” Skelly said. He pointed at Conley. “She’s pretty upset with you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“She seems to think you sicced the sheriff on her.”
“I did no such thing,” Conley said indignantly. “I only pointed out to Merle Goggins that Symmes’s wreck happened right down the road from Toddie’s farm, and I mentioned that she told me, the other day when we met in your store, that Symmes went out there for a visit not long before he died and told her that he was going to deed the property over to her.”
“Are you saying Toddie had something to do with the accident?” Skelly asked. “Come on, Conley. I’ve known her most of my life. I don’t think she’s capable of anything like that.”
“Until the day I tricked you into driving me out to Oak Springs Farm, you hadn’t seen her in, what, more than thirty years?” Conley reminded him. “Can you definitely say she had nothing to do with Symmes’s death?”
“We don’t even know how he died,” Skelly said.
Conley let out a long breath. “We do now. He hit a deer.”
