The Backup Plan. Sherryl Woods

could barely suppress a grin at her uppity tone. “Is that so? And just how much do you know about what Bobby’s been doing since you took off? Maybe he’s gotten friendly with Jack Daniels and hasn’t done a lick of work. Wouldn’t be the first time one of the Beaufort men couldn’t hold his liquor.”

      She looked a bit flustered by the question. “Are you telling me that your brother is an alcoholic?”

      “Nope. Just saying you can’t possibly know one way or the other. You’ve made a lot of assumptions in the last couple of weeks, or am I wrong? Have folks been filling your head with tales, Dinah?”

      “No, I haven’t heard anything specific,” she admitted. “But I do know you.”

      He shook his head at her confident tone. “Oh, sugar, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. The truth is you don’t have a clue about either one of us. Never have. Never will.”

      She regarded him with a huffy expression. “I’ve known you since grade school, Cordell. Bobby was always thoughtful, generous and hardworking. You were an arrogant, smart-alecky kid without a lick of ambition and I don’t see any evidence that you’ve changed a bit.”

      He laughed at that. “Then you must not be half the journalist you’re cracked up to be.”

      “Meaning what?” she asked, her cheeks pink with indignation.

      “That you must have missed all those lessons on objectivity and fact-gathering. You’re making assumptions right and left here.”

      “Then set me straight,” she retorted at once.

      “Why should I?” he asked. “I think it’s going to be a whole lot more entertaining to let you make a few discoveries all on your own.”

      5

      Twenty-four hours after humiliating herself in front of Cord and with his indictment of her fact-finding skills still ringing in her ears, Dinah went in search of Maggie for information. If Cord wasn’t going to tell her anything about Bobby or himself, then she was just going to have to drag it out of her best friend. Besides, it had already been a couple of weeks since she’d promised to go by the gallery and set up a date for dinner. Surely once she was there she could lull Maggie into revealing something helpful about Bobby’s whereabouts.

      She found Images on a narrow alley in downtown Charleston, only a few blocks from the Battery. It had a lovely wrought-iron fence, climbing rosebushes in full and fragrant bloom in the tiny courtyard, and old brick that had faded to a lovely shade of pink. Everything about it spoke of charm and class. Knowing her friend as she did, Dinah hadn’t expected anything less than the classiest of businesses. Maggie had always had excellent taste, even though she’d occasionally rebelled against it.

      A bell rang when Dinah opened the door and Maggie emerged from the back, a smile spreading across her face when she saw her friend.

      “It’s about time you came by,” she declared.

      “I know,” Dinah said readily. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

      “I’m sure you’ve been busy. Knowing your folks, they’re probably still showing you off every evening.”

      “Not really. I called a halt to that after the first few days. The last thing I want is to be trotted out like some visiting celebrity. It’ll just make it that much harder to explain to everyone when I don’t go back overseas on another assignment.”

      Maggie’s gaze immediately narrowed. “What’s up, then? Is everything okay? Come on in the back and I’ll pour us both some tea and we can talk.”

      “Not till I’ve had a look around,” Dinah said, mostly out of genuine interest, but also to put off Maggie’s inevitable questions.

      She made a slow turn in the main room, admiring the watercolors that hung on the walls and the sculptures and art glass displayed on an assortment of antiques that Maggie had obviously brought from her family’s home. It was an eclectic mix set against a backdrop of warm wood furniture, gleaming oak floors and creamy walls. The effect was inviting, not intimidating, though the price tags certainly put the inventory several steps above most people’s pocketbooks. She imagined that Images had a very wealthy clientele, mostly from Charleston’s oldest families and the recently rich who needed to add the look of family heirlooms to their homes.

      “Very, very elegant,” she said at last. “You have a good eye, not just for the art, but for how to showcase it. I’m impressed.” She gestured toward a familiar desk that had once been in the Forsythes’ living room. “You’re not selling off the family treasures, are you?”

      “Hardly. My mother’s horrified enough that I insisted on bringing some of Great-grandmother’s prized pieces to a shop. If she thought they might wind up in someone else’s home, she’d probably disown me. As it is, I’ve convinced her to think of this as an unofficial museum.” She grinned. “It helped that it gave her an excuse to go shopping for some new furniture for the house.”

      “You have a great talent for display, though,” Dinah said, truly impressed. “I imagine everyone who comes in wants to take the entire package—art and presentation.”

      Maggie beamed at the compliment. “Does that mean I can sell you something before you leave? It’s been a slow morning.”

      “You could if I had someplace to put it. Unfortunately our house is packed to the rafters, as you well know.”

      “I remember,” Maggie said. “Isn’t it time you started to look for a place of your own, if you’re going to stick around? Just think how beautifully you’ll be able to furnish it with all those antiques your folks have hidden away in the attic. I could help you sort through them.” Her expression brightened. “And I know the perfect place for you. There’s a wonderful carriage house on the market just a few blocks from here. The owner’s anxious to sell because she’s relocating to California, so I imagine you can get a good deal if you act quickly.”

      Dinah automatically shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not ready for that.”

      “But you just said …” Maggie regarded her with confusion. “Surely you don’t want to go on living at home.”

      “It’s not forever,” Dinah said. “Just till I get my bearings.”

      “Get your bearings? Are you sure you’re not afraid that you’ll change your mind about staying?”

      “That’s one reason,” Dinah admitted. Not even to herself had she contemplated what she would do if Bobby didn’t fall right in with her plans for the two of them.

      “And the other? I hope you’re not counting on moving into someplace with Bobby,” Maggie said, frowning.

      “You say that as if it’s a totally ridiculous notion,” Dinah said, grateful that her friend had given her the perfect opening for her interrogation. She used her very real annoyance to lay out the questions she wanted answered. “Why is that, Maggie? What do you know about Bobby that you’re not telling me?”

      Maggie didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated by her accusatory tone. She held up her hands. “Not my place to say another word.”

      “You and Cord,” Dinah muttered in disgust. “You’re both tossing out all these maddening hints and innuendoes, but neither one of you has the guts to just say what’s on your mind. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d be lumping you in with Cordell Beaufort. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

      “I am your friend, which is why I have no intention of getting caught in the middle of this. I’ve already told you my opinion and you’ve rejected it, so I’m staying out of it from now on,” Maggie replied. “And when did you see Cord again, by the way?”

      “What makes you think I’ve seen him again?”

      “Because it’s obvious you’re