a little help, of course. Besides, it’s all just part of my ongoing transformation from semi-curmudgeon to sweet little old lady.”
Locke put his hand around Miss Voncille’s tidy waist and gently pulled her toward him. “So, do you think they’ll keep their word on everything?”
“Oh, I expect so. Even if you and I have to lose another rubber or two of bridge to keep them happy and on track. And I also think explaining to them why they might be without a library soon didn’t hurt one bit.”
When Maura Beth walked into Connie’s seafood extravaganza at her lake house the following Sunday, there was already a respectable crowd milling around, some with drinks, others with plates of grilled catfish and shrimp scampi in hand. In fact, the decibel level of the chatter was so high that Diana Krall’s velvety recording of “It Could Happen to You” could barely be recognized.
“What a warm, rustic atmosphere!” Maura Beth exclaimed, as Connie welcomed her into what could only be described as the greatest of great rooms. It occupied the core of the house and sported rustic beams across a shed roof ceiling that was at least twenty feet high. The focal point of one wall was an enormous Tennessee sandstone fireplace, complete with crackling flames on this chilly autumn evening, while the other wall featured at least twenty framed snapshots of the most impressive fish Douglas had caught on Lake Cherico or in the Tennessee River itself. There was no denying that this was the lodge of a sportsman, definitely lacking a woman’s touch, and Douglas quickly spirited Maura Beth away for a guided tour of his trophies.
“Now this one here is a thirty-one-pound striped bass I caught on a white spinner,” he explained. “White does it for me every time. I just haven’t had much luck with the yellow or the blue baits.”
“That certainly is a huge fish,” Maura Beth said, trying her best to sound interested.
“And this one next to it I caught on a pig ’n’ jig,” he continued. “Bet you’ve never heard of a lure like that.”
“It sounds like a canapé.”
Douglas snickered. “It does, doesn’t it? Actually, there is a piece of pork rind on the hook.”
“Now, Douglas,” Connie said, stepping up to rescue her friend, “let’s give Maura Beth a chance at the real canapés, shall we? She can come back and gawk at your fish collection later on. It’s not going to swim away. You’ve seen to that.” On the way over to the buffet table, Connie continued her rant. “Believe me, he would have told you how much every single one of those fish weighed and what bait he used to catch them all, if I had let him.”
But Maura Beth was in no mood for criticism. “He’s just proud of his pastime, that’s all. Your husband is a sweetie, and you know it.”
“Well, I have to admit, I always know where he is—out on The Verdict or at The Marina Bar and Grill every day. Meanwhile, you’ll be pleased to hear that we have some of Douglas’s family down from Brentwood joining the neighbors. Matter of fact, here comes someone now I’m sure you’ll remember.”
From across the room, Susan McShay ambled over with a smile and her cocktail in hand. “Surprise!” she exclaimed, giving Maura Beth a quick hug. “Paul and I decided we couldn’t miss this. Connie’s been talking it up so much.”
They were all joined immediately by a robust young man who was in the midst of treating one of the shrimp on his plate as finger food. “You just have to be Maura Beth with that red hair and those blue eyes,” he said. “Excuse me while I clean up my act.”
She laughed while he found a spot on a nearby coffee table for his plate and wiped his hands on a napkin.
Then Susan made the introductions. “Maura Beth, this is my ravenous son and Connie’s nephew, Jeremy. He teaches English at New Gallatin Academy in Nashville, and he’s been dying to meet you.”
Jeremy extended his hand and said: “I just missed you when you were up in Brentwood before. I was chaperoning a field trip to the Grand Ole Opry, believe it or not. Nothing ties you up like a busload of eleventh-grade boys ogling rhinestones, big hair, and big—”
Maura Beth grinned at his widening eyes, while she stepped in to rescue him. “Voices?”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Did I mention I teach English and am awfully good at choosing my words carefully?”
“Well,