Acknowledgments

1

“Do you suppose she’ll pose for pictures with us? Or give me a few quotes for my book club newsletter?” Lucinda Macavy flashed a shy smile at Sybil Powers, her eyes bright with excitement. “It’s not every day a celebrity chef like Sonia Scott comes to town,” she added breathlessly. “It would be such an honor to meet her.”

Lucinda, a thin woman wearing an expensive but unflattering clay-colored shift, leaned forward to inspect the goodies Ali had arranged on the coffee table. With a quick, birdlike movement, she added a napoleon, a lemon bar, and a blueberry scone to her bone china plate and then sat back, waiting for the group to respond.

It was a hot summer evening in Savannah and Ali had jacked up the AC before the members of the Dream Club arrived for their weekly meeting. Sybil looked flushed in one of her tropical caftans and was gulping down vast quantities of sweet tea served in mason jars. Persia Walker appeared thoughtful, fingering her chunky handmade necklace from Nepal.

My sister Ali, as always, looked cool, blond, and slender in white skinny jeans and and a pale yellow beaded top. As the proprietor of Oldies But Goodies, a Savannah candy shop, she dresses casually but always looks put together. The Dream Club meets weekly in her apartment above the shop, and she serves sweet tea, coffee, and a delicious array of pastries. She calls the Dream Club members her “beta tasters,” and she adds the most popular items to the café menu downstairs.

When I arrived in Savannah a few months ago, the vintage candy shop, just a couple of blocks off the Historic District, was struggling. We’ve made a few changes since then, invested in some marketing, added a café menu, and things are looking up. We’ve gone from operating in the red to the black, and Ali likes to tease me that my MBA finally came in handy. I like to tell her that my advice as a high-powered business consultant has rubbed off on her.

We make a good team. Yin and yang. Ali is headstrong and impulsive, with a wild creative bent, and I’m more conservative, always looking out for the bottom line. My quick visit down south to help my sister took an unexpected turn: I fell in love with Savannah and decided to make it my home.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lucinda. She won’t be bothered giving you quotes for a little newsletter,” Dorien said sharply. “She’s a celebrity and I bet all she cares about are articles in major newspapers,” she went on, “so you’d just be wasting your time. You know the food critic Neal Garson will want to do a big piece on Sonia. She thanked him on the acknowledgment page of her new book. I’ve heard the two of them are like this.” She held up her index finger intertwined with her middle finger and gave a knowing look like an actress in a soap opera.

“I think they dated back in high school,” Minerva Harper said thoughtfully. Minerva and her sister Rose are octogenarians who seem to know everyone who has ever lived in, died in, or visited Savannah in the past seventy-five years.

“See what I mean,” Dorien said triumphantly. “If anyone chats with Sonia about her cooking empire it will be Neal Garson, not you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lucinda said diffidently. “Still . . . I’d certainly like to have a few moments with her.”

“Buy her latest cookbook, and you’ll get ten seconds with her and an autograph.” Dorien snorted.

Ali raised her eyebrows...