“Sultan and Satin,” Drayton said. “Yes, they’re beautiful dogs.”
“They’re dating?” Theodosia asked. Then she quickly waved a hand in front of her face as if to erase her words. “Wait, I didn’t mean the Dobermans.”
“I understand what you mean,” Timothy said. “And, yes, the two of them are seeing each other. Keeping company, or whatever you choose to call it.”
Theodosia smiled to herself. She’d call it dating, yes. Haley would call it friends with benefits. As for the dogs, Earl Grey and the Dobermans hadn’t officially met yet. But she suspected it might be time to remedy that.
“So you’ve told the FBI about our upcoming show?” Timothy said. “About our Fabergé egg?”
“They’re well aware of it,” Theodosia said.
Timothy seemed to make up his mind then. He put Mr. Jefferson’s likeness down and said, “I’ll hire more guards for Saturday night. And do you have a phone number for that agent you mentioned? Ziskie, was it? I’d like to speak with him.”
“Agent Zimmer,” Theodosia said. She removed Zimmer’s card from her pocketbook and copied down the information for Timothy. But she kept the card.
If she truly intended to help Brooke find some answers, Agent Zimmer just might come in handy.
10
Earl Grey lounged in front of the fireplace, looking lazy and content, as Theodosia bustled about the kitchen fixing dinner. Theodosia sometimes wondered who appreciated their harmonious evening routine the most. And judging by the peaceful, almost beatific look on her dear dog’s face, she suspected it was him.
On warmer evenings, she’d have carried her plate out to the small patio in the backyard where decades of ivy crawled up a redbrick wall and a small fountain pattered away. It was a lovely Charleston pocket garden, green and lush, tangled rather than manicured. But tonight was way too cool and the fire much too inviting.
Theodosia moved briskly about the kitchen, dancing to Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten.” Tonight was going to be salad night. She chopped and diced grape tomatoes, shallots, and parsley, then tossed everything into a bowl of bulgur wheat. She whipped some olive oil and red vinegar together and then poured it over her salad. Bits of crumbled goat cheese went on top, and there you had it. A Mediterranean grain salad. Haley would have approved. In fact, it was an adaptation of one of Haley’s recipes.
Curling into a chair at the table, Theodosia tasted her creation. Mmn, it was delicious. As she nibbled her salad and glanced through the latest edition of Charleston magazine, her eyes were drawn to the pink orchid that sat on the dining room table. It had been a gift from Angie Congdon, her friend who owned the Featherbed House B and B.
Theodosia wasn’t sure if she had a knack for the care and feeding of this particular Phalaenopsis, but she was willing to give it a try. Besides, it was nice to have something exotic in the house.
Earl Grey touched a nose to her knee and peered up at her.
“No,” she said. “You’ve had your dinner. A delicious kibble entrée.”
He continued to gaze at her, his sad brown eyes pleading for a bite.
“I know. If I give you a bite you’ll never ask me again, right?”
“Rwww,” Earl Grey responded.
“But you will. That’s just how you are.”
This time he rolled his eyes at her, which immediately tugged at her heart. And just as she was about to break down, to run into the kitchen and get him a dog cookie, the phone rang.
“Saved,” she breathed, jumping up to snatch it. “Hello?”
“Hello, gorgeous,” Max cooed into her ear. Her ex-boyfriend certainly knew how to get her attention.
“Hey there,” Theodosia said. “How are things in Savannah?”
“Could be better.” His teasing tone awakened a flutter of butterflies in her core. “You could be here.”
“Oh, really?” Max was both charming and glib. He was a keeper, but one she couldn’t keep.
His smooth chuckle rumbled over the line. “Definitely. In fact, I was hoping you might come down for the Festival of Lights in a few weeks. I know a great place you can stay.”
“I’m sure you do. The thing is, the holidays are our busiest time of year.”
“That sounds like a no.”
“No, it’s just a maybe.”
“I could dine out on your maybes,” Max said.
“Then I’ll really try to make it down there.”
“Can’t ask for much more. How are things in Charleston?”
“Oh, fairly interesting.”
“Don’t tell me you let yourself get pulled into some sort of crazy investigation again.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
“I’m not sure if that sounds ominous or hopeful.” Max chuckled.
“Probably a little of both,” Theodosia said. She really didn’t want to get into a hot and heavy discussion right now on how a ring of international jewel thieves might be operating in Charleston. It was just . . . too much.
“Are you still running?” Max asked. “Keeping up those eight-minute miles?”