Sadly for her, Vera’s Rhett Butler looked much better in his getup than she did in hers. Morty Cassity stood an inch or so taller than his wife. His hairline had receded a couple of inches, but his broad shoulders, handsome face, and general air of confidence more than compensated for his lack of height.

“Good evening, Morty, Vera.” Miss An’gel was equal to any occasion, and she greeted her guests as if there had been no unpleasantness between Vera and Morty just now.

Morty bent over Miss An’gel’s hand and brushed it with a kiss. “You’re looking mighty fine, Miss An’gel, though I’ve got no idea who or what you’re supposed to be. Vera’s the reader in our family.”

Vera grimaced. “Evening, An’gel.” She nodded in the direction of everyone else. “Sorry we’re late, but Morty had a meeting he couldn’t postpone.”

“No matter,” Miss An’gel said. She motioned the waiters forward. “The guests won’t be arriving for a few more minutes yet. In the meantime, help yourselves to the champagne and nibbles. They’re delicious.”

Morty reached eagerly for the champagne, I thought. And his eyes fastened just as avidly on Sissy Beauchamp. I couldn’t blame him. She was stunning in her Tinkie costume, and she knew it. She preened for him, but from my vantage point, it looked like she was staring right at Vera. Hank, at Sissy’s side as always, gazed straight ahead, as if he didn’t see either Vera or Morty.

The babble of conversation resumed, but for the moment I stood alone. Helen Louise had gone off to use the ladies’ room, while Stewart sauntered over to talk to his former student. Morty sidled closer to Sissy, and Miss An’gel joined them. Probably a good idea, I reckoned, if the fire in Vera’s eye was anything to go by. If we made it through the night without an eruption from her, we’d be extremely lucky.

Miss Dickce approached me, and we chatted happily about our joint favorite, Elizabeth Peters. Miss Dickce, while she loved Amelia Peabody, absolutely adored Jacqueline Kirby and lamented the fact that there weren’tmore Kirby novels.

“I know, but it’s a shame. Jacqueline is such a hoot. I’d love to be her when I grow up.” Miss Dickce giggled, and I felt a sudden rush of empathy and affection for her. She was truly endearing, and behind the humor I sensed a certain yearning, perhaps for the adventurous life of her chosen character.

“Jacqueline has nothing on you, Miss Dickce,” I said.

“You’re so gallant, Charlie.” She smiled up at me. “A true Southern gentleman. It’s a shame that Diesel couldn’t be here. He’s a gentleman, too.”

We chatted further about my cat and soon shifted into discussion of plans for the money to be raised from the gala. Miss Dickce wanted to ensure adequate funding for the literacy programs, which I supported, but I also hoped to see some money spent on materials for the library, like children’s books.

A shriek of rage accompanied by a resounding slap interrupted us, and conversation ceased immediately. Startled, Miss Dickce and I turned to see what was going on.