Chapter Eight
“What can I get you, Diane?” Tamsin asked. It had been a long day of travel followed by the chipping and putting competitions and most of the ladies had retired for the night. Only Diane and Isabelle remained.
“This Portuguese wine is delicious,” Diane said. “So I’ll gladly have another one of these.” She lifted her near-empty glass.
“Isabelle? Same again for you?” Tamsin asked.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Isabelle said. “I didn’t earn it the way Diane did.” She stretched her arms above her head. “I think I’ll turn in. Long day and all that.”
“That’s Isabelle’s way of saying she’s feeling her age,” Diane joked. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse when I come up.”
“I’ll be right back.” Tamsin headed to the bar to place her order.
While the bartender poured their drinks she glanced backwar
