Madam’s morning voice message chirped like an overly-caffeinated mockingbird. “Cassie, darling … it’s the Madam calling. So sorry the book club hadn’t been by the restaurant in a few weeks…
Like I had a choice. (See previous.)
Board games, or bored games?” That is the question I had posed to Miller, the stalwart concierge, when I went down to fetch Mother’s dry cleaning. I couldn’t hazard a…
We’re coming up on Sheriff Paul’s home, Brantley behind the wheel and me in the backseat with Bernie, who seems particularly reticent today. Journalists are supposed to remove all emotion…
Like a bee to honey, dear readers, your Miss Comportment is a-buzz about politics … but NOT of the Middle Valley variety. (More on Bernie and Mayor Charlotte’s moronic attempts…
I’d met the Paul’s ex on two occasions, neither of which made me at all excited about there being a third. But Mayor Charlotte insisted. “We have to pay our…
Four voice messages. No return calls. And I thought Mayor Charlotte and I had made a connection. I simply want to understand why I, the head of the tourism bureau…
The Hughes’ cat may have run off into the night, but its essence was everywhere in the family’s sitting room. Though its style was Victorian to the hilt – satin…
My mother was inconsolable. The cat had escaped into the rainy night 12 hours earlier and, when he hadn’t returned by daybreak, she, of course, called me. “You’re the one…
Jenny Page