to accept that you are a person. And that she herself, in fact, is a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t pitch fits and run away merely because they disagree with what a person—mind you, an adult person who has every right to have some happiness—does. She has no right to approve or disapprove of your life. Thus she’s being an asshole.”
“Tippy, she’s my daughter. And this isn’t a cut-and-dried situation. There are a lot of nuances—her failure to get the internship, her fiancé ignoring her, and her father cutting her off. Add to that me messing around with Clay, and that’s a lot to take in. For heaven’s sake, she came into my room, and I was half-undressed with the man.”
“Well, bully for you, my dear.” Tippy cupped her teacup and leveled a hard stare at Daphne. That look in her eyes was one she’d used on Daphne for too many years to name. When Daphne had lost her mother when Ellery was three years old, Tippy had made a concerted effort to fill the shoes of the woman she’d been best friends with for years. Tippy and Daphne’s mother, Norma, had grown up together, more sisters than neighbors. As Norma lay dying of breast cancer, she’d made Tippy Lou promise that she would look after both Daphne and Ellery. Tippy didn’t make promises lightly.
Ellery loved Tippy Lou and her outrageous and horrible sense of style. One would think Ellery would find overalls and tie-dye offensive to her stylish sensibilities, but her daughter loved to visit Tippy, curling up on her green tweed couch to read feminist tomes or flip through old photo albums, smiling at the faded photos of days past. Ellery agreed with almost everything Tippy Lou suggested, whether it was voting women into political office or planting verbena in the hanging baskets on the front porch, and Tippy Lou had adored Ellery from the time she crawled across the linoleum with her hair in blonde pigtails to the time she opened her college graduation gift and cooed over the vintage Yves Saint Laurent scarf. Still, that didn’t mean that Tippy Lou didn’t know Ellery’s (or Daphne’s) flaws and point them out whether she was asked or not.
“I didn’t want her to find out about Clay, and I damn sure didn’t plan to repeat the mistake I made with him,” Daphne said, renewed misery pressing in on her. Everything was so . . . awful, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
“So why was your shirt unbuttoned?”
“Because he was consoling me.” Daphne looked at her teacup.
Tippy Lou laughed so hard she nearly fell off her stool. “Oh, well, then. Clay should get hired on at Coburn’s Funeral Home. People would no doubt pay double to be consoled by him when their loved ones bite the dust.”
“Stop laughing.”
Tippy wiped her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but that was funny.”
“I didn’t mean he was actually consoling me. It’s just that Rex showed up and acted like an ass on Friday night, embarrassing me in front of a very cute and very single vineyard owner. Then Rex invited me to sit with him at breakfast and proceeded to tell me all about his financial problems. Then—”
“Wait,” Tippy interrupted, holding up a hand. “Rex, the best businessman on the face of the planet, is having financial problems? Of course, I know exactly why. It’s called pussy.”
“Tippy.” Daphne frowned. “Stop using that language.”
“Why? That’s his problem. I know Cindy and her tastes. She had her hand out before she spread those legs. I heard they’ve been traveling all over the world wearing matching Rolexes. Ain’t that cute? And let me guess . . . he wants you to fix it for him.”
Daphne wanted to argue with Tippy but couldn’t because the older woman had hit the bull’s-eye. “You’re good. You should have been a detective.”
Tippy Lou’s eyes danced. “Can you imagine me being a detective? I would end up in jail ’cause I would have to slap someone . . . or kill them. People are too stupid for me to be carrying around a gun. I’d do us all a big favor and clear out the shallow gene pools.”
Daphne stared at her fingers curved around the mug. “Yeah, let’s not give you a badge or gun just yet. Besides, Rex is a good businessman as long as someone is there to remind him that what is in his checkbook isn’t what he is actually worth. I was the one who had to