Silk Stalkings by Diane Vallere

can’t let him decide what color to paint the living room! Can you imagine if he chooses the wrong shade of beige?”
    â€œYes, I’m sure civilization as we know it will come to a screeching halt.”
    â€œYou inherited his sarcasm.”
    â€œAnd I inherited your good looks,” I said. “Go. I’ll be okay here. You were a big help today.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do about coming back later this week.” She kissed me on the cheek and left.
    I finished my bowl of halupkies, considered having more but decided against it. I stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and then went downstairs to the store.
    I tallied the sales figures for the day and put away the bolts of fabric that had been left by the cutting station. The cats ran around the store, swatting small felt mice across the expanse of concrete floor like expert soccer players angling for a goal. I let them play and opened the front door to look at Charlie’s Auto. The lights were out and there was no sign of life.
    The opposite could be said for The Broadside. Neon signs advertising a variety of American beers lit the windows and colored the sidewalk. A group of men covered in dirt approached the door. The one in front was Xavier, the head landscaper who had designed the gardens at the Waverly House. Strains of music spilled out the front door when he opened the door. Duke didn’t have any problem pulling customers into his bar. Maybe I should take a page from his playbook to capture the afternoon shoppers.
    I found my phone and called Genevieve. “Any chance you’re up for a night out?”
    â€œPoly, the tea shop has been so busy since the Midnight in Paris party. I don’t think I have the energy for much more than sitting on a bar stool.”
    â€œPerfect, because that’s what I had in mind.”
    â€œYou want to come here and sit on a bar stool with me?”
    â€œNo. I want the two of us to go to The Broadside.”
    â€œYou know something? That’s just about the only place I could see going in my current state.”
    â€œPerfect. Park behind the fabric shop and we’ll walk over together.”
    I changed out of the suit I’d worn for my meeting with Vaughn and into a pair of jeans and a black V-neck sweater. When Genevieve’s car pulled into the back parking lot, I tucked my phone and wallet into a small bag, met her downstairs, and we left.
    Genevieve bubbled over with good news about Tea Totalers. I wouldn’t admit it to her, but after her husband had been murdered, I’d worried about her future in San Ladrón. Like me, she was an outsider when she moved to the small town. But something beautiful had happened during her mourning phase. She had blossomed in a way that only women who find themselves newly single can do. It wasn’t just the new cut and color of her curly blond hair, either. Her whole personality had expanded to match her curvaceous figure and the joie de vivre that now shone through in her laughter and her gaiety. It was infectious. People who had been little more than strangers six months ago had become regulars of her shop and she counted many of them among her friends.
    â€œPoly, you wouldn’t believe how great things are. This morning the line was out the door! I can’t believe it. I really can’t. It’s like a dream come true.”
    â€œIt isn’t
like
a dream come true, it
is
a dream come true. It’s
your
dream come true,” I said.
    She wrapped her arms around herself and tipped her head back. “It
is
my dream come true!” She pulled the door to The Broadside open and followed me inside. Laughter mingled with the occasional snap of billiard balls. I led the way to two vacant bar stools. The bartender, a muscle-bound man in a tight Harley-Davidson T-shirt and torn jeans, was busy filling a row of shot glasses with tequila for a man who looked like he’d spent the day playing rugby in a