face hinted at more than one facelift, and her deep, even color spoke of days spent supine on a tanning bed. And why is it that some bottle blondes let their dark roots grow out to the point that they look as if theyâre wearing dead skunks on their heads? This womanâs short hairdo even included a flip that resembled a tail.
âHi, Iâm Abigail Timberlake Washburn,â I said. âIâd like to welcome you to Charleston.â
âAre you with the Post and Courier ?â She referred to our local newspaper, which is an excellent publication, by the way. It was, however, an odd assumption, and raised some interesting questions.
âIâm afraid not. Iâm just a private individualâa friend of the family. I heard that you are stranded in town, so speak, and I want to offer you hospitality.â Strictly speaking, it wasnât a lie. I was a friend to many familiesâjust not the Webbfingers family.
âOh, I thought you might be here to do a story on my husband. You know, him being a Wall Street mover and shaker. You probably donât get too many of those in Charleston.â
âActually, we get a surprising number of celebrities. Why just last week I thought I saw Brad Pitt walking up Pitt Street.â I couldnât help but laugh when I realized the connection.
âIs that supposed to be a joke?â
âNo. Honestly. A lot of movies are shot here because of the mild climate, and because there is so much historical architecture.â
She nodded. âWell, Missâuh, Iâm afraid Iâve forgotten your name.â
âThatâs Mrs. Washburn.â
âYes, of course. At any rate, Iâm afraid my husband and I have a few things to do, so if youâll excuse usââ She started to close the door.
âNot so fast, Irena.â Tall, dark, and handsome was turning into a blabbermouth.
âI came to invite you to lunch,â I said, while I still had the chance.
âTo lunch?â the woman with the roadkill hairdo asked.
âYes, maâam.â
âWhy would you do that?â
âItâs just our way of showing hospitality, maâam.â I doubt if knocking on hotel doors and inviting the occupants to lunch is customary anywhere. In fact, one would think a normal person would consider it rather strange. But when a well-dressed middle-age woman with a strong Southern accent offers a free lunch, it is apparently a hard thing to pass up.
Irena, however, was obviously still wary of Charlestonians bearing Greeks gifts. âLunch with you and who else?â
âJust me.â
âAre you part of some kind of organization? Because if youâre trying to convert us to your religion, Iâm telling you now, it isnât going to work. Nick and I already belong to one, and I assure you, weâre not going to change.â
They may be tiny tootsies, but sometimes I can think fast on them. âYes, maâam, it is an organization, but it isnât religious. Itâs called People Interested in Treating Yankees. Weâre just a group ofcitizens who are proud of our town and love to show it off to those not fortunate enough to live here.â
âHmm. Weâre from New York City. You canât beat that.â
âYes, but do you have a chapter of P.I.T.Y.?â
She looked like a cat that had been asked a calculus question. âUhâwe have thousands of organizations. Iâm sure we have one of those.â
âThere you go. P.I.T.Y. must be nationwide. So then, how about it? Lunch at Slightly North of Broad? Thatâs the name of the restaurant, by the way, as well as its location.â
She glanced at a watch which, if genuine, cost as much as a yearâs tuition at the College of Charleston. âIsnât it a little early for lunch?â
âYes, of course. My reservation is for twelve. Would you like me to pick you up?â
âHey, that would be