But by night, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the front shutters were closed, the front door was locked, and it became a private club for the women of Beauford, who entered by the back door. The tea served was of the Long Island variety and the music was a mixture of country, old and new, and classic rock. The menu varied, depending on Laura’s whim, but was the same for every table. Instead of cucumber sandwiches, scones, and tiny fruit tarts, what came out on the three-tiered servers were things like pulled pork sliders, individual servings of crab imperial, fried macaroni and cheese bites, ramekins of turnip greens, and slabs of chocolate cake—food that a woman who had worked hard all day could relish. And it was only for the women of Beauford. Laura saw this as a gift to those who knocked themselves out all day catering to the tourists who allowed them all to earn a living. Not that the food and libation was free. Laura was nothing if not a good businesswoman; they all were and could, therefore, pay for a night away from reality.
