The Scoop by Fern Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

ordinary circumstances Bernice would have told her to “kiss her wrinkled old ass” or flipped her the single-digit salute. For the moment, she was on her best behavior.
    Meekly, with her eyes lowered, Bernice replied, “Yes, Missus Toots.”
    “Sophie? Ida? Dessert and coffee?” Toots asked the pair seated across from her.
    “Hell yes, I want dessert! All I’ve heard since I arrived is how skinny I am,” Sophie said with a grin.
    Thank goodness her eating disorder wasn’t self-inflicted, Toots thought. She’d just been too occupied with Walter’s care the last year to take proper care of herself. That was about to change.
    “Ida?” Toots inquired.
    “Nothing, thank you.”
    The minute Ida had stepped foot in the house, she’d asked to go to her room, where she took the germ-zapping light Toots had purchased and proceeded to scan it across every inch of the room. Apparently it had been to her satisfaction, for she hadn’t complained. At least not yet. A small bathroom that Toots herself had scrubbed with Clorox and then with ammonia—even Toots knew better than to mix the two if she wanted to be alive when her friends got there—met her standards as well. Ida needed psychiatric help. Big-time and soon. Toots made a mental note to ask Dr. Pauley for a referral.
    While the others familiarized themselves with their rooms, she’d called and arranged for the doctor to stop by later that evening. She’d also spoken with Henry Whitmore. He would fax her the required papers so she could set up an account for Mavis. With those tasks out of the way, all she needed was to hear from Christopher to see if the sale had gone through. She said a prayer that it would. Abby would never have to know she’d purchased The Informer, because she’d told Christopher she must remain a “silent owner.” Big businesses did that all the time, she reasoned. Abby would never know her new boss. Toots had big plans for her daughter’s future as a tabloid reporter.
    Ten minutes later, they scattered around the long expanse of what Toots always referred to as the terrace even though it was a front porch that stretched around the entire perimeter of her home. Old houses in Charleston were like that. They had sunporches, sunrooms, verandas. Toots simply referred to the area as a terrace, and the name had stuck.
    When Toots bought the old plantation house years ago, she hadn’t hired a decorator the way most of her friends had. She’d simply bought pieces she liked, and in doing so created a welcoming, homey atmosphere inside and out. Old wicker chairs and tables were arranged so that one person or a group of twenty could converse comfortably without too much effort. Colorful handcrafted pots purchased from many of Charleston’s local artists held a variety of green plants, ferns, and brightly colored flowers. Discreetly placed outdoor lighting created a soft, warm glow all the way around the long porch. Toots loved the varied scents that permeated the outdoors this time of the day, when the world was settling in for an evening of rest, or should be. She always thought of evenings as a time to reflect on the events of the day, both good and bad. Though today she must focus on her guests and what tomorrow would bring.
    Bernice served dessert and coffee with as much aplomb as she had earlier. A chocolate mousse with whipped topping and chocolate shavings and a large array of fruit for Mavis and anyone else who cared to forgo a trip down sugar alley.
    “How long has it been since we were all together like this?” Mavis asked, between bites of pineapple.
    “Six years ago, when Abby graduated from college. Then, when she up and decided to move to California, you girls came to my rescue, remember?” Toots said. “It was the worst day of my life,” she added, recalling how sad and empty she’d felt after Abby flew the coop. That’s when that damned Leland had stepped into her life, trying to charm the pants off her. Stupid her,