Chapter 34
TarynVicky Frye and her husband Paul matched like salt and pepper shakers. They stood the same five feet, five inches. Both had caramel-colored hair, dark brown eyes, and a plumpness that made them regularly threaten to get to the gym more and drop ten pounds. More importantly, both had a naturally gregarious nature that filled every room they entered.
Vicky and I decided to meet at the bar of the Mansion early for a pre-celebratory cocktail. When I arrived, she sat perched on the edge of her bar stool, chatting up the bartender and a dapper older gentleman. Her melodic laughter alerted me to her presence even before I saw her.
“You hush. It’s not that bad,” Vicky said. Another patron at the bar motioned to the bartender and then turned toward me.
“What’s your lovely friend
