Like so many of her visits, this one was completely unexpected. She was wearing an unusual combination of calfskin vest and long, dangly rhinestone earrings that gave her the sort of tarty cowgirl appearance only Arkie seemed to be able to carry off and still not hurt her professional image. “How’s it going?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the table where I was working. I rolled my eyes. “You found me a corker in Brucie.” She grinned gleefully. “I told you last spring I’d picked a winner.” “Ever notice how the really weird ones get their names reduced to silly diminutives?” I remarked, rising to get a pen from the canister on top of the bookshelf. “Like Brucie instead of Bruce? I’ve had a load of them. Dirkie. Cliffie. Jamesie.” “Jadie,” Arkie added. “Yes, Jadie.” “Hoo-hoo,” said Arkie knowingly. “Enough corks for a winery there, eh?” “I’m going to need to have a long talk with you about her.” “Ah, wrangling for another expense account dinner at Tottie’s?”
