Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

“Oh, great,” a voice spoke behind her. Even without turning she already knew who the voice belonged to. Scarlett Canyon, not exactly her favorite person in the world.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, more a growl than a politely phrased question.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Scarlett.

Vesta turned to face her longtime nemesis. Scarlett was dressed in her usual attire: form-hugging top, ditto tiger-print leggings, and of course stiletto heels. Her formidable bust was on clear display, and her usual russet curls were a platinum blond this time.

“Are you following me?” Vesta asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Scarlett barked an incredulous laugh. “Following you! Don’t flatter yourself, Vesta. Why would I be following you?”

“Because you know I’ve just been invited by a celebrity and you can’t stand the thought of me besting you for once.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been invited by that very same celebrity.”

Vesta stared at the woman. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Scarlett tilted up her chin an inch or two. “You’re looking at the one and only Dear Gabi, Hampton Cove Gazette’s very own advice columnist.”

“That’s impossible. I’m Dear Gabi!” said Vesta.

“Yes?” suddenly a voice crackled from the intercom.

“Vesta Muffin. I have an appointment with Miss Gray,” said Vesta.

“Please tell Miss Gray Scarlett Canyon has arrived,” Scarlett said, leaning into the intercom.

The gate clicked open, then, and both women moved forward as one woman. Scarlett was first to reach the widening gap in the gate and squeezed through before Vesta could, then was teetering along the drive in the direction of the main house, followed by Vesta, who easily overtook her, since she wore sensible white sneakers, her usual footwear.

“You can’t be Gabi,” she said, picking up their argument where they’d left off. “I’m Gabi. Which is exactly why Miss Gray invited me up here.”

“I’ve turned Gabi into a household name since I picked up my pen. So there.”

“But… we can’t both be Gabi, can we?” said Vesta, a sneaking suspicion creeping up on her.

Scarlett let rip a melodious laugh, the same laugh that Vesta had learned to loathe in their decade-long association. “Both of us being Gabi. As if! Dan wouldn’t dare.”

They shared a quick look, then Vesta groaned. “I thought he wrote those other answers. The ones that I didn’t write? At least that’s what he told me.”

“It’s what he told me,” Scarlett confirmed with a rare frown. She knew it messed up her Botoxed brow. “Do you mean to tell me he’s had us both write as Gabi and didn’t think to mention the fact?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” Vesta confirmed.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Scarlett looked as taken aback now as Vesta. “The bastard!”

“You can say that again,” Vesta confirmed.

“He told me I was Hampton Cove’s Gabi. Me and no one else!”

“He told me the exact same thing.”

“But why would he do a thing like that!”

The reason was obvious. Gabi’s column had become so popular in the last couple of months letters had been pouring in, much more than one person could handle. So instead of hiring one Gabi to deal with the onslaught of advice seekers, he’d hired two, and since both women weren’t exactly the best of friends, decided to keep it a secret.

For a moment, neither woman spoke, as they hiked the short distance along the gravel driveway up to the house. Then Scarlett said begrudgingly, “I have to admit I liked some of the advice you’ve been dispensing.”

“And I have to admit I’ve liked some of yours,” said Vesta, just as grudgingly.

“Was it you that told Charlene Butterwick she should settle down and start a family with a deserving male?” asked Scarlett.

“That was me. But how did you know it was Butterwick that asked the question?”

Scarlett made a scoffing sound. “Wasn’t it obvious? ‘I’m a successful local politician but feel as if there’s something missing in my life and I don’t know what it is?’”

“Yeah, I guess that was pretty obvious,” Vesta admitted. “Was it you that told my daughter she should go on that European vacation before she’s too old to travel?”

“Yup. Marge deserves that vacation. She’s been wanting to go for a long time.”

“That was some great advice.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve been telling Marge for years she should take that trip. Maybe now she’ll do it.”

They’d arrived at the house and the door swung open to reveal a heavyset woman dressed in a gray suit. She looked a distinguished fifty, though she could have been a well-preserved sixty. She greeted them with a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome, dear hearts.”

“Thanks, Miss Gray,” said Vesta.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Gray,” said Scarlett with a touch of reverence.

“Not as pleased as I am to finally meet the rising stars on the agony aunt firmament,” said Miss Gray, and stepped aside to let them in. “When Dan told me to expect two Gabis I didn’t conceal my surprise. Though when he explained it to me it made perfect sense.”

“Oh, he explained it to you, did he?” said Vesta, still peeved about the Gazette editor’s deceit. “He didn’t do us that courtesy.”

“You mean you didn’t know there were two of you?” asked Miss Gray as she closed the door.

“No, ma’am, we did not,” said Scarlett, glancing around the hallway, which was clean and fancy, with a white marble floor and a nice skylight that added an airy touch.

Miss Gray surprised them by bursting out laughing. “Oh, that Dan. The old rascal is up to his old tricks again, is he?”

“You mean he’s done this before?” asked Vesta.

“Oh, sure. When I was the Gazette’s resident Gabi, about twenty years ago, he neglected to tell me there was a second and even a third Gabi until I was three months into the job. All that time I assumed he did double duty as editor and advice columnist, when all the while he’d been paying two of my best friends to pick up the slack since I couldn’t possibly answer all the letters myself.”

“He did the same with us,” Vesta grumbled, though she decided not to mention the fact that Scarlett wasn’t exactly her best friend. Quite the opposite.

“Please come in,” said Miss Gray with a gesture of the hand, and walked them into a spacious living room, dominated by the same white theme: white marble floors, white leather couches, white carpets, white furniture—there was even a white baby grand piano, sheet music placed for whoever liked to tickle the ivory in Miss Gray’s house.

“Do you play?” asked Scarlett, never one to refrain from sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

“No, but my niece does,” said Miss Gray, then gestured to the couch and both women took a seat while their hostess walked over to the piano and lightly touched the keys. “Do you know why I invited you here?”

“No, I don’t,” said Vesta.

“I assumed it had something to do with the column,” said Scarlett as she rubbed her ankle.

“Why do you insist on wearing those heels?” said Vesta, giving her fellow Gabi a critical look. “You’ll break your ankles one of these days.”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Scarlett. “Coming from someone who insists on looking like a nurse that’s rich.”

“I don’t look like a nurse,” said Vesta.

“Yes, you do, with your nurse’s shoes and that white tracksuit you always wear.”

“What white tracksuit? I don’t wear a white tracksuit.”

“Ladies, ladies,” said Miss Gray, taking a seat across from them. “I didn’t invite you here to squabble.”