A woman seated in the corner, away from the sunlit window, was waving her arm in my direction, beckoning me forward. She looked to be about 45 in the face but her form-fitting head-to-toe navy pantsuit said thirty while the cherry-blonde highlights in her tousled coif read twenty five. You know that feeling you sometimes get at the back of your neck when you meet someone – that arcing sssst that makes you scuff your wrist along your hairline almost before the scald registers in your brain? Well, that’s what I felt when I first walked up to Tyna Beeton  in that trendy restaurant where we were meeting for lunch. She was my sister’s newest BFF (best friend forever) and I was supposed to like her on…

+Read more