In the end, Beau thought it might have been the rice cakes that were the final straw, for Mr. Collins. Beau and Tiffany hadn’t even planned that one.
Tiffany had taken them all out for lunch—the whole office staff: him, and Mee Noi and Suree and Kasira and a few of the others whose names Beau hadn’t been able to remember. To celebrate, she said. Charles had been thoroughly routed, probably wouldn’t even be back.
She purchased several bottles of Mekhong, a golden liquor that smelled a bit too much like Vin after some hard partying for Beau’s comfort. Or maybe just enough like him for some comfort. Beau had always been careful before. He hadn’t handled his liquor well the first time he’d had any, and combined with Vin’s admission to alcoholism, drinking hadn’t sounded like a good habit to
