Page 51 of Skin and Bones

“There you go,” Dottie said. “Patrick was good people. And once the two of you said your vows, the family came around and they accepted you.”

“Accepted might be a strong word,” I said, laughing. “But the vows certainly made things easier. And for a time, it was nice to have a family.” I sighed, realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Patrick’s mother around town. His grandmother had passed on the year after Patrick had died. She’d taken his death very hard.

Dottie squeezed my hand affectionately and said, “Well, I’ve always been a firm believer that a family isn’t necessarily the one you’re born with, but the one you make.”

The words hit me with unexpected clarity, like the first notes of a melody I’d known all my life but had somehow forgotten. Looking at Dottie’s lined face, I realized I’d spent so many years defining myself by what I’d lost that I’d nearly missed what I’d found. The Silver Sleuths with their bickering and bourbon, their wisdom and war stories—they’d become my makeshift family when I wasn’t looking. Walt’s paranoia, Dottie’s medical musings, Bea’s outrageous gossip, Hank’s judicial temperament, and Deidre’s meticulous research—they’d filled the empty corners of my life with something that felt remarkably like belonging.

“You might be onto something there,” I said, my throat suddenly tight with emotion I hadn’t expected.

Dottie patted my arm knowingly, then straightened her shoulders.

“Now, let’s go see what that viper Vanessa has to say for herself.”

We approached Coastal Chic, a charmingly renovated storefront with large display windows showcasing resort wear in breezy pastels. A hand-painted sign in elegant script promised Sophisticated Coastal Style for the Discerning Lady.

“You said that Milton got what he deserved when he married Vanessa,” I said. “Did you know her before she married him?”

Dottie snorted, the sound surprisingly delicate coming from her. “She was Judge Garfield’s granddaughter. Everyone knew Vanessa. She was barely twenty-one and Garfield had gotten her a job working for the county clerk’s office. That’s when Milton honed in and decided she needed a mentor if she was going to make it in city government. Judge Garfield liked to have had a fit when he found out. And believe me, it didn’t take long for everyone to find out. Their affair wasn’t exactly a secret. They once got caught going at it in the public records office when they thought everyone had left for lunch. Much to Milton’s chagrin the county clerk’s office has cameras everywhere.”

I winced. “And Lucinda found out?”

“It would have been impossible for her not to know. Milton didn’t even try to keep it a secret. He wore that scarlet letter loud and proud.” She shook her head. “That man weaponized humiliation like no one I’ve ever seen.”

I pushed open the boutique door, setting off a delicate wind chime. The interior was a masterpiece of coastal chic—whitewashed wood, seagrass rugs, and artfully arranged displays of linen dresses and statement jewelry. The air smelled of an expensive sea-inspired perfume that was being pumped through the vents in the ceiling.

A woman emerged from the back room. She was tall, at least five ten, and she had honey-blond hair that waved artfully down her back. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and suspiciously smooth skin that suggested regular appointments with Charleston’s finest cosmetic surgeons. She wore white linen pants and a gauzy blue top that exactly matched her eyes, accessorized with enough gold jewelry to sink a small rowboat.

“Welcome to Coastal Chic,” she greeted with Southern warmth. “We just got in the most fabulous new…” Her voice trailed off as she registered Dottie, and her perfect smile flickered for just a moment. “Dorothy Simmons, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in years. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Dottie smiled, showing a lot of teeth, and said, “Hello, Vanessa. This is my friend Mabel McCoy. Mabel, this is Vanessa Milton.”

“Garfield,” Vanessa corrected. “I went back to my maiden name after my divorce. Mabel McCoy.” She stared hard at me, narrowing her eyes in thought. “I know that name from somewhere, but I can’t place it.”

“She was Patrick DoBose’s wife,” Dottie said, touching a beaded blouse that looked terribly uncomfortable.

“That’s me,” I said, instantly disliking Vanessa.

“So tragic,” she said, her eyes looking suspiciously moist. “Patrick was a couple of years younger than me in school you know.”

Since Patrick had been twelve years older than me I wasn’t at all surprised to hear this. I’d known none of the friends he’d gone to school with when we got married.

“He had quite the reputation with the senior girls, even as an underclassman.” She sighed dramatically and then giggled as if we were all sharing a joke. “We were all just shocked when he married you. Thought for sure you had to be in the family way.”

I realized what Dottie had been talking about. Vanessa was as crazy as a possum in a knapsack.

“No,” I said, my smile sharp enough to cut glass. “I guess it was just love.”

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes full of malice. “Do you still run the little tea shop?” She smoothed her hair back from her face. “It was so good of Patrick to leave you with money so you could dabble in your interests. You came out quite well, didn’t you?”

“Except the part where my husband died.”

Dottie sniffed and said, “You’re one to talk, Vanessa Milton. Didn’t Roy give you a nice settlement so you could open this store?”

The change was immediate. Vanessa’s smile hardened into something brittle, and her hands dropped to her sides.

“I haven’t been married to Roy in twenty years,” she said coolly. “And I have no interest in discussing him now.”

“Not even to help solve a murder?” Dottie asked.

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