A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) by Darynda Jones

Sun took another sweep and saw Mayor Donna Lomas standing off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest and a satisfied smirk crinkling her mouth.

“You can put those away,” she said, gesturing toward the guns.

They holstered their weapons, and Sun said, “Is this what I think it is?” Eleven of Del Sol’s finest in the basement of an angler’s shop. Because where else would they meet?

“You figured it out,” the mayor said. “Thus, it was time.”

“You figured what out?” Quincy asked her.

“That the mayor,” Sun said, sharpening her gaze on her, “is a bona fide, card-carrying member of the Dangerous Daughters.” That was the only explanation as to why Mayor Lomas would be so insistent that Sun figure out who they are. She had an ulterior motive, Sun just didn’t know what it was.

“They’re real?” he asked.

“They are. And I think I know why.” She eyed Mrs. Fairborn, the only one sitting in one of many chairs strewn about the beautifully appointed room. “This is about the case Auri stumbled onto.”

The twinkle in the older woman’s eyes was infectious. “It is. I told you, that girl of yours is clever. How she found that Press boy is beyond me.”

“The one who tried to kill you?” Quincy asked, his expression filled with horror. Then he frowned at the people standing around, smiling at him like they were part of a cult and he was this year’s sacrifice at the Autumn Harvest Festival. “Would someone fill me in?”

“Absolutely.” The mayor walked up to him and handed him a coin.

“Sordid?” He turned it over. “Son.” He looked back at her. “Yeah, this doesn’t clear anything up.”

“Maybe this will,” Mrs. Fairborn said. She stood, walked over to Sun, and handed her a coin as well.

While Quincy’s was yellow gold, hers was rose gold and heavily worn, the words almost rubbed off completely. She read aloud, as well. “Daughter.” She turned it over. “Dangerous.” She smiled. “The crown, so to speak.”

“That it is.” She cackled and pointed to it. “Don’t lose that. They’re irreplaceable. This coin was made in 1937 by a German clockmaker who dabbled in rare coins and designed the official seal for the Royal House of Ezra.”

Sun’s mouth formed an O.

Mrs. Fairborn giggled. “Just kidding. About them being irreplaceable, that is. I’ve lost my coin twelve—”

“Thirteen,” Elaine said.

“—thirteen times. But it is a pain in the ass to get them replaced. Just sayin’.”

Sun looked around at what would be called the pillars of the community. Not necessarily those who were on the city council or who were in positions of authority. They were the farmers and the business owners. The custodians and the educators. Even the high school principal was there. And the second love of her life, Royce Womack.

She shook her head. “I have to admit, I had no idea about the sons.”

“I’m Salacious,” he said, a wicked grin spreading behind his scruffy beard.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

One by one they were introduced to the Dangerous Daughters and the Sordid Sons. Daughters like Dastardly and Diabolical and Devilish, a.k.a., her mother. And sons like Savage and Sinful and Scandalous, a.k.a., her father.

“We’re being inducted,” she said, feeling both humbled and profoundly underqualified.

These were the sons and daughters of Del Sol. People who were born and raised in the town and hadn’t left for fifteen years like Sun did, though one, Rojas’s tia Darlene, did live in Albuquerque for a few years before coming back into the fold. She was the Daughter Dastardly.

“If you accept,” her mother said.

“And if we don’t?” she asked.

“Well, you’ve already seen our faces, so we’d have to kill you.”

“If you’re taking Mrs. Fairborn’s seat,” Quincy said, looking at his coin, “whose seat am I taking?”

She’d wondered that herself.

Royce dropped his gaze. “Bo Britton, son. Your former lieutenant.”

Bo, much beloved by the community, had died two weeks before Sun took over as sheriff. Quincy looked at the coin in his hand with a new respect.

Sun studied hers. “So, there’s always a baker’s dozen at any given time?”

“Yes,” the mayor said. “Seven women and six men.”

“And we’re lucky to get that much,” Royce said. “Mrs. Fairborn was very reluctant to let any man have a say in her secret club.”

Mrs. Fairborn nodded. “The women will always have the final vote.”

“Then we’re missing one.” Sun counted again.

“Sinister,” the mayor confirmed. “While you are the reigning queen, so to speak, he would be—”

“The king?” she asked.

“More like the prince,” Mrs. Fairborn said. “No one has more power in this group than the queen. He couldn’t be here today, but he’s already cast his vote.”

“As we all have,” her dad said.

An emotion she hadn’t expected threatened to close her throat. She managed to get out two words: “I’m honored.”

Quincy nodded, unable to speak himself.