“Maman, c’est le quatorze, nest-ce pas?” Yes, she checked her cell. This was the fourteenth of July. Bastille Day, which the cell didn’t tell ...er. The next model probably would.“Mais oui, mon chat. Mais nous ne chanterons pas avant le petit dejeuner.” It was going to be the fourteenth all day, but Cat wasn’t of an age to wait. At least let Katherine get through breakfast and her first cup of coffee before Cat’s song. (Although Brennan coffee couldn’t make that much difference.) It would be a. A fund raising dinner for the current mayor of our small southern town, had brought out the elite of Savannah's high society.Doctor's, lawyers, politicians and business men and women made up the crowd, most of them coming from old money and had been grand fathered in to this club of very eccentric people.All of us doing the same thing, showing off all our money and power.As I stood against the far wall of the ballroom of the enormous twelve room mansion, I sipped my vodka tonic and watched you.. More

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