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

Even the mayor was surprised by her question. “You really did your homework.”

“Told you,” Mrs. Fairborn said. She held out her hand and the mayor slapped a five into it. The older woman cackled again and stuffed it into her bra before turning back to them. “I suppose I should have said I brought the Dangerous Daughters back to life. My mother first started them when a group of men came in and tried to take over the town. And the women running it. There were about a dozen men. An outlaw gang called the Oxford Boys.”

“Why?” the mayor asked.

“I think it had something to do with their shoes. All spit shined and fancy.”

“Makes sense.”

“And what’s an outlaw gang to do when it finds a town full of women all alone and defenseless?” When Sun only smiled, she said, “And that, my dear, is the true beginning of the Double Ds.”

“Wow.” Quincy sat back in thought.

“What happens now?” Sun asked. “We’re just part of the gang?”

“You need to learn our mission statement and rules and swear to uphold them, but yeah. For the most part.”

“Rules like?”

“Our main mission is to shift the balance from those susceptible to corruption, those with too much power, and even it out,” her mother said.

Royce expanded on that. “And we cannot ever use our position to gain power or favor for ourselves, to sway a vote on the city council for personal gain that does not benefit the whole town, for example.”

“You’re fighting basic human nature,” Sun said thoughtfully. “Who wouldn’t use their position to get a little extra parking at their business, if possible?”

“Which is why there are thirteen of us. We keep each other in line.”

“Boy, do they,” Ruby Moore, the woman with the affinity for baking cursed muffins, said with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t even try to get special permission to hold a mass séance in the cemetery on All-Hallows Eve. You would’ve thought I was asking permission to kill my husband and bury his body in the backyard.”

The mayor reminded her, “You did ask permission to kill your husband and bury his body in the backyard.”

“I was joking.” She glanced around. “It was a joke.”

“Our system is far from perfect, Sunshine,” Mrs. Fairborn said. “But it’s the best we can make it and it’s worked well for the past fifty-plus years.”

Sun crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s amazing, Mrs. Fairborn. What you’ve done.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I’m in.” Really, how could she not be?

“And you, Chief Deputy Cooper?” Cyrus asked Quincy.

“I was in the minute you gave me this coin.” He admired it again and Sun laughed softly. He was like a chipmunk in fall.

They served a dinner for Mrs. Fairborn, all of her favorites, but Sun could tell she was getting tired.

She pulled her aside. “If you’re ready to get some rest, I can take you home.” The woman did just get out of the hospital, after all.

Was that what all of this was about? Did the sons and daughters choose today because they were worried about her? Or had today been the plan all along and the attack was just bad timing?

“I guess I am getting a little tired,” Mrs. Fairborn said. She reached into her mammoth bag and handed a small tin to Sun. It was an antique sewing kit, the box rusted and the paint peeling. “This is for you. She who wears the crown …”

“Mrs. Fairborn, I am beyond honored to have been accepted into this organization, especially considering the limited seating, but the crown? For me to be Dangerous … I mean, the others have been here so much longer. They’ve put in the time and served the town.”

“Sweetheart.” She patted her arm. “I chose you as my successor over ten years ago.”

Sun felt her eyes widen. “I don’t understand.”

“The way you handled … well, everything. I knew you were the one.”

The abduction. Of course. “I hardly handled anything, Mrs. Fairborn. It happened. I just dealt with it the best way I knew how. If it weren’t for my parents, I would’ve been lost.”

“That’s all any of us can do, love. But I disagree. I think, with or without your parents, you would’ve handled it all exactly the way you did. Not with anger or resentment, but with dignity and grace and, dare I say, a healthy dose of fuck you.”

A bubble of laughter erupted from Sun’s chest.

“You refused to let what happened stop you, to use it as a crutch, and you’ve only ever done right by that baby girl of yours.”

“She’s easy to do right by,” Sun said, her appreciation boundless.

Mrs. Fairborn pushed the tin into her hands. “Like I said, she who wears the crown …”

Sun opened it. It was an assortment of odds and ends one might find at the bottom of a junk drawer. She rifled through it and brought out an old driver’s license.

“Eugene Cosgrove,” Mrs. Fairborn said. “Thirty-four years old. Steelworker from Pittsburgh. Headed to California for the American dream. Went missing November of ’59.”

She put it back and brought out a tortoiseshell comb.