Darla talks too much, laughs too loud, and knows absolutely everyone in Morrowbay. She hosts tea at noon, dinner at dusk, and scandal just after dessert.
Her lampshade bobs when she giggles – which is often – and she always arrives with a story and leaves with a better one.
Last week, she tried to start a book club with only gossip columns. The week before, she ran a matchmaking service for chairs. “Too many lonely seats,” she declared.
She claims she once caught Madam Goldleaf blushing. Goldleaf denies it. Darla told the story anyway – at least three times, to at least twelve lamps.
When she glows, it feels like a party’s about to start.
And somehow, it usually does.
