“I’m still at it. In fact, I’m going to take a run tonight.”
“Good girl. Just be careful. In the dark, you could twist an ankle on one of those pesky cobblestones. Or, you know . . .” His sentence hung unfinished in the air. He still worried about her. Theodosia wondered if that was a good thing or problematic.
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I’m always careful.”
“Yeah, right.”
Theodosia hung up feeling a small void in her chest. Change wasn’t exactly her favorite thing. But it was certainly in the air. Changing leaves, changing seasons, changing times.
? ? ?
By seven thirty, Theodosia and Earl Grey were bobbing down the back alley. The evening was beautiful, an inky blue-black sky scattered with shards of bright stars. Streetlights glowed like miniature beacons as she beat a path through the neighborhood, Earl Grey keeping pace at her side.
They bounced along, cutting through an alley or two, even running down Stoll’s Alley, where narrow, rough-hewn stone walls closed in on them and a few withered ferns were attempting a heroic last stand.
As they hung a left onto Tradd Street, Theodosia experienced one of those serendipitous moments. There, up ahead of her, heading right for her, in fact, was a small woman handling two large Dobermans. It had to be Grace Dawson and her dogs.
Instead of giving the trio a wide berth, as she normally would, Theodosia stayed her course and gently slowed her pace. A few moments later, she and Grace were face-to-face, the dogs muzzle-to-muzzle.
There was the usual amount of sniffing and mingling, of doggy politics being played out. Then the dogs seemed to relax.
“You have a beautiful pair of Dobermans,” Theodosia said.
Grace Dawson’s brilliant smile was pageant-worthy. “Thank you. I totally agree. But, of course, I’m shamelessly biased. They’re family.” She patted her dogs’ heads—one, then the other. “Sultan and Satin, meet . . .” She trailed off. “I’m sorry, you’re both so familiar to me, I know I’ve seen you around . . . but I’m afraid I’m not very good with names.”
“This is Earl Grey and I’m Theodosia Browning.”
Grace beamed. “Of course you are. From the Indigo Tea Shop over on Church Street.”
“You’ve visited us?”
“No, but I’m definitely planning to drop by. I’ve heard the most marvelous things about your tea shop. I understand you have your own pastry chef right there on the premises?”
“Haley bakes all our scones, muffins, bars, and brownie bites from scratch.” And she would adore being called a pastry chef.
“Be still my heart,” Grace laughed.
Assuming this woman eats anything sweet.
Theodosia studied Grace. She had to be in her early fifties, but was lithe and almost fashion-model thin.
Probably lives on kale and wheat shooters.
Her skintight black leggings and purple hoodie were definitely more Neiman Marcus than Sport Shack, and her sneakers were pure Gucci. With her blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, she looked like an older, wealthier Barbie.
“You do a lot of running?” Theodosia asked.
“I try to take these energetic beasts out every morning and most evenings,” Grace said.
Theodosia forced herself to focus. She needed to get serious before Grace continued on with her run. “You know, I was introduced to a friend of yours yesterday,” she said. “Lionel Rinicker.”
“Oh, Lionel!” Grace said with great enthusiasm. “Isn’t he a dear? An absolute charmer?”
“I only met him for a few minutes, but he seemed like a very nice man.”
“Oh, he is,” Grace gushed.
Theodosia wondered if Grace might even mention something about the FBI coming to call on Rinicker. On the other hand, Rinicker probably hadn’t told her. He was fairly new in town, had been lucky enough to make the acquaintance of a fairly well-to-do woman, so why would he want to screw things up?
Grace put a conspiratorial hand on Theodosia’s arm. “Let me tell you something, dear. Lionel’s done a world of good for me since my husband passed away two years ago. He’s made me feel alive again.”
“That’s wonderful,” Theodosia said. Then, “What did your husband do?” she asked politely.
“Wilton owned a Mercedes-Benz dealership over on James Island.”
“A lovely area. I take it you used to live there, too?”
“Yes, but now I really prefer in-town living. I bought my house a year ago and I honestly haven’t looked back.” Grace laughed, making a vague gesture at the neighborhood. “Look at this. Simply gorgeous. I can chug along on the beach or run through these amazing streets, admiring the history and architecture. The harbor and the yacht club are nearby and the air is always that heady oxygen-rich mixture of sea brine and freedom. And if I hadn’t moved here, I never would have met Lionel.”