STRAIGHT STALK
Prologue
“You’re a turner,” Lydia declared, her voice carrying crisply despite the noisy crowd in Cafe Frais, my favorite SoHo teahouse.
Intrigued, I regarded her over the gold rim of my teacup.
Next to me Fiona choked on her Earl Grey. “Is that anything like a spinner?” she sputtered as she dabbed a napkin to her chin.
I wasn’t sure what Fiona meant, but odds were it was obscene. Her mind lived forever in the gutter.
Carefully setting my own teacup on its waiting saucer without a clatter—some Southern manners were hard to lose—I considered the conversation leading up to Lydia’s odd statement.
We had been discussing my romantic past. Not exactly my favorite subject, but with new beau Evan on his way to join us for brunch—meeting the girls for the first time—they seeme
