The night was humid. My chemise was sticking to me, and since our central-air funds had become our resanctify-the-grounds funds, it looked as if the most we’d be doing this year would be a window unit somewhere. All the windows were open, and the shush of an occasional passing car mixed comfortably with the sound of Jenks’s kids playing june-bug croquet.

It was as bad as it sounded, and Ivy and I had spent a hilarious evening last week watching his kids divide into two teams and, by the light of the porch lamp, take turns whacking the hapless beetles to very fat toads. The team whose toad hopped away first—stuffed to the gills—won.

My smile widened at the memory, and I brushed nonexistent lint from the snappy short black jacket, the beads sewn into it glinting in the overhead light. Smile fading, I looked the outfit over again—now that I was free of the clerk’s enthusiasm. Maybe the beads were a little over the top, but they went well with the glitter on the stockings. And the shortness of the hip-hugger skirt was offset by its subdued black. It had come with a nice top that would show my midriff, and I had the jacket in case it got cold.

Shuffling in my closet, I pulled out a pair of flat sandals I could run in. Ellasbeth wouldn’t be wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Why should I slum it to make her look good?

I dropped the sandals and stepped back in thought. Some jewelry would finish it nicely, but Ivy could help me with that.

“Hey, Jenks!” I shouted, knowing if he didn’t hear me, his kids would go get him. “Come and see what I bought!”

Almost immediately there was a clatter of wings at my window. I had sewn up the pixy hole in the screen a few days previous, and I stifled my smile when Jenks ran into it.

“Hey!” he shouted, hovering with his hands on his hips and a soft glow of gold sifting from him. “What the hell is this?”

“A little privacy,” I said, fluffing the lace about the skirt’s hem. “Use the door. That’s what it’s for.”

“You know what?” he snarled. “I oughta—Oh, for the love of Tink!”

I turned at his wonderstruck tone, but he was gone. In an instant he was in the hall, laughing as he drifted backward. “Is that it?” he said. “Is that the dress you bought to wear to Trent’s wedding rehearsal and dinner? Damn, woman, you need some serious help.”

Following his gaze, I looked at my outfit. “What?” I said, warming. My nose tickled, and I muffled a sneeze, the heat and humidity starting to get to me.

Jenks was still laughing. “It’s a dinner, Rache. Not a dance club!”

Worried, I touched the jacket’s sleeve. “You think it’s too much?” I asked, working hard to keep my tone noncombative. I’d had this conversation with ex-roommates before.