Thank you for the reviews, as always much appreciated! Reader, Wade and Ella are in Ireland with Pa for the summer. I think they come back when school starts.

Hat tip to the venerable Dorothy Sayers and the opening chapters of Busman's Honeymoon – imitation, flattery, and all that.

And yes, some owls work fast. :)

Mrs. Julia Ashley, to Mrs. Eleanor Butler, via email.

My dearest Nora,

I hope this missive finds you in good health and spirits. My grandson, Jack, has presented me with a new laptop for my birthday, so I can now write outside on the porch by the water when the weather is fine, which amuses me greatly. Isn't it exciting how our generation gets to have new experiences almost every day? I heart technology, and large fonts.

The news is out all over town that your charming son Dr. Rhett has reconciled with his wife; they were seen at Francesco's last Thursday and were obviously on excellent terms. My nephew Tommy at City General told me their ICU nurses have had an ongoing "betting pool" as to when they would officially reconcile. I tell Tommy not to be so juvenile, but you can't really blame people for their interest; they are a very attractive couple, and there is something romantic about them, even before all the tragedy they have had to endure.

I always did think Jerry was mistaken for trying so hard to set Rhett up with Anne, although you can't tell Jerry anything when he's made up his mind, and at any rate it's all for the best now.

Frankly, I admit I have always had a soft spot for Scarlett. Seeing her fall asleep so soundly during Patterson's production of Don Giovanni last year remains one of the highlights of the entire season, and pulling off that shoulder-free green concoction she wore to the Vernissage took a lot of spunk. I swear Milton lost his glass eye when he saw her walk in! She is a feisty little thing, isn't she, and keeps Rhett on his toes, which has been good for him. I intend to have them over for dinner very soon, if only to annoy Catherine, who has been as mad as a hornet ever since Sally broke the news to her. I've always suspected Catherine had some interest in Rhett herself, if you can believe it. But one must not be uncharitable, or so I try to tell myself, and Catherine has some excellent qualities, even if they currently escape me.

Which reminds me, Sally is to be married in October, in Vegas of all places, and we hope to see you all for the ceremony if you fancy braving the crowds. Invitations are going out shortly.

Please give my best regards to the lovely Rosemary, and I remain, despite my rambling pen,

Your faithful friend,

Julia

Mrs. Eleanor Butler to Dr. Rhett Bulter, via text:

Rhett, my friend Julia tells me the sparrows at the Beach are piping from the rooftops that you've reconciled with Scarlett, and as usual the sparrows know much more than your long-suffering mother. I tried calling the house, but only got her sister who is apparently acting as a house-sitter? Give me a buzz when you have a chance. xoxo

Rosemary Butler to Rhett Butler, via text:

"Bro – spill. :) "

Scarlett had been at the townhouse for about three days before she realized that their secret reconciliation had ceased to be ….. secret. Rhett had come back into the kitchen after a phone call, saying he had received an invitation to dine with Mrs. Julia Ashley and to "bring dear Scarlett too, if she had time with all her work at the hospital!"

He had laughed, apparently thinking it was all a great joke, but she had scowled. She'd known that the cocoon they had lived in for the past week would not remain intact indefinitely, but she had hoped for a little more time.

And Mrs. Julia Ashley wasn't the worst of the old bats that would be parading her through their parlors until they had seen with their own eyes of just how things stood between her and Rhett, she thought grimly to herself.

The only positive aspect was that it was bound to have gotten back to Anne Hampton as well. She detested the sound of Anne.

Any woman who was not beneath professing to love the Opera would obviously stop at nothing.

They had gone to the dinner, pulling up in front of the well-kept brownstone at half past six. Scarlett wore a very simple off-the-rack black Calvin Klein dress, which flattered her figure outrageously, her black hair falling in simple waves over her shoulders. At the very least, she smiled, no other woman would outshine her tonight.

Mrs. Ashley, tastefully clad in a classic grey two-piece, had met them at the door with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres under a huge oil painting of herself and her deceased husband.

"Scarlett!" she purred. "It's been much too long."

That, Scarlett thought bitterly, depended entirely on your point of view. She took some cheese-with-grapes on toothpicks. She looked around the room, searching for someone to stab.

She graciously accepted the compliments on her dress, and managed to make polite chit-chat throughout a formal dinner where she knew every expression and every tone of voice was being scrutinized. She stopped at the bar and had the hired caterer pour her white wine. She was leery of the beige carpets. Dangerous, to serve red wine here. Too much money, no common sense.

Mrs. Ashley was a retired psychiatrist and had been a great friend and mentor of Melly's, so speaking about Melly had been a relatively safe topic. After dinner, they were shown around the house to "see what we've been doing with the old place." Scarlett dutifully admired the new patio and a few new paintings she knew nothing about ("interesting colors!", she remarked several times over) and spoke to people she barely remembered. She heard more than she cared to know about Mrs. Ashley's son, who was apparently involved in a start-up in California and, she was told, "has refused to go to medical school or law school like regular people!"

"Kids will be kids," Mrs. Ashley said brightly.

Scarlett had pulled a small moue that she hoped looked sympathetic. Some people had all the bad luck with their offspring.

Rhett had behaved beautifully, showing just the proper amount of deference, and touching her no more and no less than was proper for a husband of long standing attending a party with his wife. But, she thought, the old bats would measure any minute tension in her face and, by the end of the evening, would be able to assign a percentage chance down to the third decimal point that one of their nieces or grand-daughters would yet succeed in snagging the charming Dr. Butler.

When they finally arrived at home, she swung herself on one of the barstools and poured herself a glass of brandy, which she then took to the leather couch in the living room.

Which is where she found the earring.

Telephone conversation between Rosemary Butler and Dr. Rhett Butler, at about 11 pm that same night.

Rosemary (bubbly): "Bro! Can you talk? I want to hear all about Scarlett! When, where, why, and what happened! I am so excited!"

Rhett: "To tell you the truth, she just ran out on me."

Rosemary: "Huh?"

Rhett: "She threw an earring at me and left."

Rosemary: "She threw an earring at you?"

Rhett: (clarifying) "One that she found in the couch."

Rosemary: "Uh oh." (Pregnant pause). "Not her earring, I presume."

Rhett: "No."

Rosemary: "Dude, you really have a way with women."

Rhett: "So I've been told."

Rosemary: "Where'd she go?"

Rhett (drawn-out drawl): "To the hospital, I would assume."

Rosemary: "And where are you?"

Rhett: "At the house."

Rosemary: (eyeroll) "When did she leave?"

Rhett: "About half an hour ago."

Rosemary: "Go after her, stupid."

Rhett: (reluctantly) "I probably should."

Rosemary: "Good luck. Keep me posted! Oh, and if you find her, and ...you know, text me any time!"

Rhett: "Good night, Rosemary."