Chapter 18

Olivia, somehow wronged again, comes huffing. “So why is Ted not a pallbearer?”

I sigh. “No one is. Dee was being facetious.”

“Our city magazine named Potsy Finest Concierge in their annual recap,” Kerrick offers.

“Because he knows all the best dealers and pimps,” says Dee.

“And listening to you, Dee, is like slow-stirring risotto.” Hearing everything is part of Potsy’s concierge prowess. He anticipates what hotel guests want from their private lobby conversations before they ask.

“Barry was chosen Best Store in the same issue,” Dee continues.

Potsy cuts off Dee before she can add she was listed Top Realtor. “Barry, Alexander’s coming in.”

Dee’s sharp intake of breath probably sucked some flock off the wall. “I forgot how much they looked alike.”

“Even with his carb-face,” Potsy observes.

Alexander is Andy’s double, with a considerable paunch. His lazy gait is that arrogant John Wayne walk certain men develop. Sun-loving blonde wife Melinda holds his arm.