“Dear,” Bonita, a redheaded older woman sighed, stirring sugar into her tea and setting it back on the coffee table. “Did you break another constable’s heart recently?”

“What?” Ruby startled, then made a face. “No, of course not.”

Bonita cast her a skeptical look, but didn’t push it. Ruby sat across from her, waving a hand over her tea.

“It looks more elegant if you stir, dear.”

Ruby raised her brows, but followed Bonita’s implicit instruction. She tolerated Ruby … and that was more than she could say for all but three of the other girls and, well, Cheri.

“How’s your granddaughter?” Ruby said idly.

“Still engaged,” Bonita said, neutrally. “I’ll believe it when the wedding’s over.”

Ruby glanced over to the doorway when she heard the knob turn. God. She half hoped it was a john. Bonita treated her like a child, but she was nineteen!