Isobel asked Tom. He hadn’t even blinked twice the first time she showed up at the home improvement store trailed by Jake and the rest of the crew, which had grown to nearly a dozen people this time around. But now they were on a date—or what passed for a date on reality television. “What cameras?” Tom asked, holding her purse while she slid into the green booth. “Don’t talk about the cameras,” Kitty said. The sound girl had indeed been promoted to field producer for the pilot, which they’d sold to the investors and the studio as Southern Bel. Of course the fact that no one had ever shortened Isobel’s name to Bel didn’t concern Craig. “It’s a concept,” he’d said to her. “Nothing’s set in stone.” He had however insisted that everyone call her Bel, which made for lots of stuttering as the cousins and Tom got used to the forced nickname. Isobel sat down. “Is this a local place?” she asked, looking around the restaurant, which was in the only part of Memphis that reminded Isobel of the West Coast.
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