Barefoot Confessa

Chargenda and I are writinga novella about Ina Garten. Here is the first part and we'll keep posting it until we get bored or stuck or something.

So, without further ado, the first installment of Barefoot Confessa.



It was another typical East Hampton day. Ina stared out towards the
ocean, a warm breeze flowing through her Vidal Sassoon bob and her
popped collar on her (now sandy, wrinkled, and blood stained) navy
button-down caressed her ear lobe. She wasn't sure how long she has
been on the beach. She stared down at the sand and noticed TR's
square-toe Berluti remained half buried. "Shame to do this to such a
good shoe" she thought to herself and covered the rest of it with sand
and an overturned Chinese carry out box.
The sirens started to be more and more audible in the morning air.
"They'll be here soon", she muttered. She slowly removed her .40mm
from her beach tote.

To think that something simple, like surprising Jeffery with chopped
liver in good silver bowl would lead to all this. It was just two
days before her big beach party. Like school girls, she and TR were
gabbing on the phone, as they always do, every Friday.