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Overview
From New York Times bestselling author Mary Kay Andrews, a wittily seductive tale of divorce, revenge, and great antiques, set in sultry Savannah, Georgia.
If you think you know Savannah, think again . . .
Landing a catch like Talmadge Evans III encouraged Eloise “Weezie” Foley to buy a gem of a townhouse in Savannah's historic district. Divorcing Tal got her exiled to the backyard carriage house, where she’s launched a spite-fest with Tal's new fiancé, the elegant Caroline DeSantos.
An antiques picker, Weezie combs Savannah's steamy back alleys and garage sales for treasures when she's not dealing with her loopy relatives or her hunky ex-boyfriend. But an unauthorized sneak preview at a sale lands Weezie smack in the middle of magnolia-scented murder, mayhem . . . and more. Dirty deals simmer all around her, just as her relationship with the hottest chef in town heats up and she finds out how delicious love can be the second time around.
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9780060519131 |
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Publisher: | HarperCollins |
Publication date: | 12/05/2023 |
Series: | Weezie and Bebe Series , #1 |
Edition description: | Reprint |
Pages: | 416 |
Sales rank: | 27,070 |
Product dimensions: | 5.20(w) x 7.90(h) x 1.20(d) |
About the Author
Hometown:
Atlanta, GeorgiaDate of Birth:
July 27, 1954Place of Birth:
Tampa, FloridaEducation:
B.A. in newspaper journalism, University of Georgia, 1976Website:
http://www.MaryKayAndrews.comRead an Excerpt
Chapter One
The rapping at the front door of the carriage house was unmistakable. Her. I could see Caroline DeSantos's slender profile through the frosted glass inset of the front door. She had started by ringing the bell, once, twice, three times, then she began rattling the doorknob with one hand and banging at the brass knocker with the other.
"Eloise? Open up. I mean it. That beast of yours did it again. I'm calling the dogcatcher right now. You hear me? I've got my cell phone. I'm punching in the number. I know you hear me, Eloise."
She did indeed have something that looked like a phone in her hand.
Jethro heard Caroline too. He raised his dark muzzle, which has endearing little spots like reverse freckles, his ears pricked up, and, recognizing the voice of the enemy, he slunk under the pine table in the living room.
I knelt down and scratched his chin in sympathy. "Did you, Jethro? Did you really pee on the camellias again?"
Jethro hung his head. He's just a stray, but he almost never lies to me, which is more than I can say for any other male I've ever been involved with.
I patted his head as a reward for his honesty. "Good dog. Help yourself. Pee on everything over there. Poop on the doorstep and I'll buy you the biggest ham bone in Savannah."
The banging and door rattling continued. "Eloise. I know you're home. I saw your truck parked on the street. I've called Tal. He's calling his lawyer."
"Tattletale," I muttered, putting aside the box of junk I'd been sorting.
"Bitch," I muttered.
Jethro barked his approval. I turned around and saw his tail wagging in agreement.
"Slut." More wagging. We were both gathering our resolve for the coming barrage. Jethro crawled out from under the table and sat on his haunches, directly behind me. His warm breath on my ankles felt oddly reassuring.
I threw the front door open. "Sic her, Jethro," I said loudly. "Bite the bad lady."
Caroline took half a step backward. "I heard that," she screeched. "If that mutt puts a paw in my garden again, I'm going to..."
"What?" I demanded. "You're going to what? Poison him? Shoot him? Run him over in that sports car of yours? You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, Caroline? Running over a poor defenseless dog."
I put my hands on my hips and did a good imitation of staring her down. It wasn't physically possible, of course. Caroline DeSantos stands a good four inches taller than I do, and that's without the four-inch spike heels she considers her fashion trademark.
She flushed. "I'm warning you. That's all. For the last time. There's a leash law in this town, as you well know. If you really loved that mutt of yours, you wouldn't let him run around loose all the time."
She really was quite lovely, Caroline. Even in Savannah's ungodly summer heat, she was as crisp and fragrant as a just-plucked gardenia. Her glossy dark hair was pulled off her neck in a chignon, and her olive skin was flawless. She wore lime green linen capri slacks and a matching linen scoop-neck blouse that showed only a tasteful hint of décolletage. I could have gone on living a long time without seeing her that way, that day.
"Oh," I said. "Jethro is running around. Is that what's bothering you about my poor little puppy? But you're an expert at running around, aren't you, Caroline? I believe you and my husband were running around on me for at least six months before I finally wised up and kicked him out."
I'd kicked Tal out, but he hadn't gone far. The judge in our divorce case was an old family friend of Tal's daddy, Big Tal. He'd given our 1858 townhouse to Tal in the property settlement, and only after my lawyer raised the god-awfullest ruckus you ever heard, had he tossed me a bone -- basically -- awarding me the slim two-story carriage house right behind the big house.
Tal installed Caroline in the big house the minute the paperwork was completed, and we've had a running back-fence spite match ever since.
My lawyer, who also happens to be my uncle James, talked himself blue in the face trying to persuade me to sell out and move, but he knows better than to try to make a Foley change her mind. On Charlton Street I'd make my stand -- to live and die in Dixie. Move? Me? No sirreebob.
Caroline flicked a strand of hair out of her face. She looked me up and down and gave me a supercilious smile.
It was Thursday. I'd been up at dawn cruising the still-darkened lanes of Savannah, trying to beat the trashmen to the spoils of the town's leading lights. I looked like hell. My junking uniform, black leggings and a blue denim work shirt, was caked in grime from the Dumpsters I'd been digging through. My short red hair was festooned with cobwebs, my nails were broken, and peeling paint flakes clung to the back of my knuckles.
The day's pickings had been unusually slim. The two huge boxes of old books I'd pounced on behind an Italianate brownstone on Barnard Street had yielded up mostly mildewed, totally worthless Methodist hymnbooks from the 1930s. A carton of pretty Occupied Japan dishes rescued from a pile of junk at a house on Washington Avenue hadn't turned up a single...
Savannah Blues. Copyright © by Mary Kay Andrews. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.What People are Saying About This
“Savannah Blues serves up a tasty dish.”
“A shining novel of wit, love, and hilariousyet poignantvengeance.”
“Quirky, endearing characters make Savannah Blues one heck of a good time.”
“A great heroine, steamy Savannah setting, a hunky chef, antiques galore. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
Reading Group Guide
Introduction
Savannah Blues is a delightful, witty novel by an author who is destined to become the Susan Isaacs of the South. It's the story of a woman who is coming to terms with a life that has suddenly changed -- seemingly not for the better -- and it has a delicious revenge-against-the-bimbo-who-stole-your-ex plot. Eloise "Weezie" Foley has lived in Savannah all her life, long enough to know the language...and where the best garage sales are happening. Weezie, once the wife of successful architect, Talmadge 'Tal' Evans III, is now an "antiques picker," buying antiques at the source and reselling them to dealers. She discovered her talent for spotting valuable "junk" when she was fixing up her elegant Savannah townhouse. Then Tal fell for another woman. The divorce settlement left Weezie living with her dog in the backyard carriage house while her ex and his girlfriend, Caroline DeSantos, romp in the rooms she lovingly restored. No matter how awkward the proximity, Weezie won't sell. As she says, "On Charlton Street I'd make my stand-to live and die in Dixie." (p. 3) It's enough to make any woman bitter, or at least to let her dog piddle on Caroline's prize camellias. Savannah Blues is a story of family ties and influence; of a woman putting her life back together after an emotionally devastating divorce; and of a fascinating city, Savannah. Much of Savannah Blues revolves around family. Weezie's father spends his nights watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy while her mother, Marian, sips iced tea laced with Four Roses. Marian's tippling is the family secret, which is getting harder to keep. Thenthere's another family hiding skeletons, that of Weezie's new boyfriend Daniel, the chef at the hottest restaurant in town. His past is a closed door, and opening it might be Weezie's biggest mistake. One more critical family looms large in this story, or at least its legacy does: the late Anna Ruby Mullinax's crumbling plantation on the Skidaway River. Beaulieu is an historic treasure, one worth preserving if Weezie and her friends can save it from the developers' bulldozers. Weezie is spunky and wisecracking but she's also at a turning point in her life. Unsure if she is really over Tal, she ends up playing "she loves me, she loves me not" with gorgeous, he-man hunk Daniel. While she progressively gets back on her feet and builds her antique business, she needs to find out where a relationship fits in her future -- if one fits there at all. Tal's cheating hurt her badly. Dare she trust Daniel? And can she decipher the devious goings-on around her? Savannah, sultry in the summer heat, has a piece of history on nearly every street corner and a disturbing darkness lurking beneath its surface charm. Sliding sinuously in and out of the story, this intriguing city contributes a specific world view, and perhaps a touch of schizophrenia, to Weezie's character and that of her eccentric friends and relatives, from the many-times married BeBe Loudermilk, Weezie's best friend, to her gay Uncle James, an ex-priest turned lawyer who's still in the closet about his homosexuality. Old Savannah is filled with bias; new Savannah has forgotten its values. What is worth preserving when the two clash is a central question at the heart of Savannah Blues. Mary Kay Andrews has produced a work of fiction that is fun and funky, introspective and multi-layered -- the debut of a new Southern voice in women's fiction. Questions for Discussion