Vaguely, I heard a gasp that might have been Daisy but I didn’t have time to look, I was on a roll and kept going.

“And I got this cut on my cheek when I was beaten and raped a month ago, you know that, everyone knows it and you’re just being a screaming bitch by bringing it up.”

Hector’s hand got tight at my waist and he repeated, “Sadie –”

I continued to ignore him and ranted on, even as more people approached our group.

“And I’ll finish with this little nugget and, Monica, I want you to listen well. Don’t you dare waltz uninvited into my gallery and disrespect me, my friends and my boyfriend. You do it again, I’ll drag you out of here by your hair. Got me?” I snapped.

Monica sputtered once then twice then breathed, “I don’t believe –”

I leaned in and interrupted her, “It was a yes or no question.”

Her eyes narrowed, she sucked in breath and (believe it or not!), she hissed, “You’ll never sell another painting in Denver again!”

Now, how unoriginal was that?

It was the worst comeback ever!

“Oh well, I guess I’ll just sit on top of my big pile of money and eat bon bons,” I returned casually then, quick as lightning, I morphed to not-casual-at-all, leaned back toward her and clipped, “Now get out of my gallery.”

She pressed her lips together, gave me a squinty-eyed look, transferred the look to Hector then back to me and then she turned and marched out.

It was at that juncture I realized I was breathing heavily.

Hector’s dark gray shirt came into my vision and I looked up into his black eyes.

“What the f**k was that about?” he asked.

“She’s a bitch,” I answered.

“I gathered that, mamita,” he told me and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

And it was at that juncture I realized he was fighting a grin.

And I knew not one single thing was funny about this particular situation.

I got closer to him as it hit me that we had an audience and likely had one for some time.

“This isn’t funny,” I whispered to Hector, ignoring the people gathered around.

His body started to shake with laughter. “You just told her you were gonna sit on your big pile of money and eat bon bons. Sadie, seriously, do you not get that that’s funny?”

I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t get out a single sound when I heard a woman’s voice call, “Sadie?”

I looked to the side and saw the whole gang gathered around, Rock Chicks, Hot Bunch, family and friends, all of them obviously getting what was funny because they were all smiling.

But there were two new people there I’d never seen before except in pictures. A man and a woman, they were both tall, slim, dark-haired and I knew they were Hank, Lee and Ally’s parents, the Nightingales.

“Sadie,” the woman whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes, she walked right to me and pulled me in her arms for a fierce hug. I felt her head turn and she murmured in my ear, “My God, sweetheart, you look exactly like Lizzie.”

Oh my.

This, I knew, was Kitty Sue, my Mom’s best friend.

While Kitty Sue hugged me, I looked at the man at her side. He was smiling down at me.

And that was Malcolm.

Before I could wrap my head around this, she pulled away and when I looked at her I saw she had herself together. She was smiling from ear-to-ear and the tears were gone.

“It’s so good to see you,” she told me and turned to her husband. “Malc, doesn’t she look just like Lizzie?”

He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

Yes.

Kissed my cheek!

I hadn’t seen him since I was three!

“Spittin’ image,” he said when he moved away.

I wondered what I should do in this situation (again, the etiquette books didn’t cover this topic) but I didn’t have to wonder long, Kitty Sue took over.

“I hope you don’t mind, we crashed your party. But I couldn’t wait to see you. Malc and I just got back from Hawaii last night. I wanted to call but we totally crashed. Jetlag. Serious. Crazy. Have you ever been jetlagged?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, you and I have so much to talk about. I hear Tom showed you some pictures but I have more…” She blathered on, hand on my upper arm, fingers squeezing affectionately.

I was staring at her, lips parted, stunned silent (not that I could get a word in edgewise) when she was interrupted and someone new called my name.

She dropped her hand, looked over my shoulder and so did I.

There stood Aaron Lockhart, leaning on a cane, liver-spotted, mostly-bald head shining in the lights of the gallery.

Blooming heck!

“My dear,” Aaron said and then it was his turn to lean in (or up, as Aaron was kind of stooped) and kiss my cheek.

What was going on?

Aaron was always invited but never came (his wife didn’t like to socialize much).

“Aaron, how are you?” I asked, ever the hostess, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze before dropping it.

“In a hurry,” he answered. “Berta’s out in the car with the five dogs,” he told me then looked up at Hector and, for some reason, shared, “Pomeranians. Five Pomeranian dogs. One is too many, five is the definition of living hell. I told her that I’d named our son as my life insurance beneficiary but I still think she’s trying to kill me.”

There were chuckles all around but, again, I didn’t find anything funny. This was because I was getting a bad feeling about his visit and our audience.

“Aaron, do we need to go somewhere and talk?” I asked.

“No, Sadie. This will be quick. Just popped by to give you the good news that you’re in luck. Mrs. Burnsley’s family is moving her into assisted living at the end of the month so the London flat will be available. It’s coming to outside season so the property in Crete will be open in a few weeks and it’ll stay that way until mid-February. The booking company has plenty of time to move people around before next year so you’re free to go to either place.”

My body went solid and I heard the chuckles die away.

“Are you going on vacation, Sadie?” Ralphie materialized close by and his voice sounded confused.

I looked at him and opened my mouth to speak but damn and blasted Aaron got there first.

“Not vacation. Moving,” Aaron answered, I heard gasps but worse, I felt a fierce electrical current whipping all around me and I knew what that meant. Aaron, somehow oblivious to the current (and the gasps), went on, “Which brings me to my next subjects. Taxes, health insurance, residency visas. I’m looking into them and I’ll get the information to you by the end of the week. I’m advising Crete, better weather and London is expensive, would be difficult for you on a fixed income, even yours. The exchange rate is certain death. Also, I’ll need to get into your storage locker so the auctioneers can have a look at your belongings and give you a quote for selling them.”