“Listen, ladies, I have a proposition for you. I have a new show idea, and the producer is struggling to find the right talent. I think you two would be perfect, and I’d like to recommend you. Let’s go somewhere for dinner tonight and discuss.”
He graced us with a dazzling smile that didn’t create any lines in his face and swept from the kitchen, leaving me and my sister stunned.
“What do you think he has in mind? Are we getting our own show?”
“Let’s hope not,” I blurted out, bursting Rachel’s bubble.
“Give it a shot! I have to change.”
And with that, Rachel raced up the back stairs to our apartment.
Chapter Seven
Xavier’s elusive pitch dangled and buzzed in my brain for the rest of the afternoon. I had one more task to complete before dinner. I headed over to Ellie Barnes and her mother’s nursery to discuss the secret wedding plans and to set up a game plan for overhauling the Thistle Park greenhouse for Dakota’s reception. I’d completely renovated the mansion and the grounds this past fall, including the greenhouse. But the glittering glass space stood quiet and still, awaiting my not-yet-finished ideas to fill the space with flowers and plants.
I pulled the Butterscotch Monster into the Barnes’s Nursery grounds, bypassing the pretty, low-slung yellow farmhouse with green trim where Ellie resided with her mother. Her younger sister, Leah, lived at Dunlap with the other boarding school attendees. I idly wondered what it would be like to live under the same roof as a mother so intent on pushing her daughters to greatness as Iris Barnes was. It couldn’t have been easy for Ellie. I thought Leah currently had the better deal, living at Dunlap Academy.
The Barnes’s Nursery was made up of several interconnected greenhouses, a collection of pleasing clear domes joined together with long glass hallways. The effect was that of a sparkling group of beehives and igloos, the plants inside different shades of viridian, yellow, and red. The lush, impossibly warm air from the greenhouse hit my face and surprised me as it always did. It was warm for February, but the greenhouse was downright tropical.
“Yoo-hoo, Mallory.” Iris Barnes came clucking over, her face set in a welcoming grin. She pulled me in for a hug, and I acquiesced, thinking what a warm, motherly woman she was. A tiger mama, that was. Iris Barnes at first glance came across as yielding and pliant, her demeanor that of some kind of muted earth goddess, with a soft corona of fuzzy brown hair, and none of the angularity of her daughters’ faces. She was short and stout, almost as wide as she was tall, and she wore orange gardening clogs with wool socks and faded jeans. She spent her days presiding over her beloved nursery business. When she wasn’t fomenting her daughters’ takeover of the world. Iris’s favorite topic of conversation was the brass rings her Ellie and Leah were grabbing and reaching for. If there was one woman who was a pushier mother than Roxanne, Iris was it.
“Have you heard the news?” She practically bounced on her foam gardening clogs, her hands clasped together within her rough cloth gloves. “Ellie’s been made headmistress!” She waved around a sharp pair of shears, and I took an involuntary step back.
“That’s fantastic.” I offered Iris a steady smile and congratulated her on behalf of her daughter.
But Ginger had to die for that to happen.
“I always wanted Ellie to do something with her life, and now she’s followed through.” Iris took in my shocked expression and tut-tutted. “Now, I know she is a wonderful drama teacher, but I always thought she could do more. Ellie is always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” A dark cloud seemed to pass over her round face. “I never worry about Leah—she has ambition. She’ll get into Harvard, you know. Now, paying for tuition, that’s another matter.”
A tiny trickle of awareness danced across my shoulder blades. What if Iris had been involved with Ginger’s death so Ellie could become headmistress?
Before I could plunge further into that line of thought, Ellie herself ducked into the greenhouse.
“There’s the newest headmistress!” Iris clapped her hands together again and Ellie blushed.
“Oh stop, Mom.” She was wearing an official-looking suit, and her angular face was alive and exhilarated.
“But what Ellie really should be doing is acting, not just teaching drama and serving as headmistress. Ellie is a wonderful actress, did you know? Much better than Dakota.” Iris sniffed with disdain and removed her gardening gloves to prepare for our meeting.
“Mom! Don’t be ridiculous.” Ellie seemed to want to quiet her mother and motioned us back to the office part of the nursery.
But Iris persisted. “Ellie deserved to be on that show. That silly little man with his health shakes got it all wrong.”
Is she talking about Xavier?
Ellie rolled her eyes and readied a pot of coffee. “Back when we were eighteen, Dakota arranged an audition for me. This was when Caitlin Quinn was on strike from Silverlake High.”
I wracked my brain. Caitlin Quinn was the actress who had died from some horrible accident on the set, something having to do with a gas leak, if I could remember right.
“Caitlin had been holding out for more money, and she was the star of the show,” Ellie reminded me. “Xavier was the director, and he had a lot of input on who was to replace Caitlin. He was considering me after Dakota arranged the audition.” Ellie seemed equally wistful and relieved.
“And he should have cast you.” Iris pouted, pouring a cup of fragrant steaming vanilla coffee into a green mug embossed with the Barnes’s Nursery leaf motif and name.
“We were all visiting the set when Caitlin died.” Ellie grew serious. “Dakota, Ginger—”
“Ginger was there?” I broke in.
Ellie nodded. “Me, my mom, my sister, Leah, and Ginger thought it would be fun to be on set, and Dakota arranged it. No one was working because of Caitlin’s strike, and we had the sound stage to ourselves.”
“And you were there when Caitlin had her accident?”
So this isn’t the first death Dakota’s been involved with.
Ellie looked pained. “Unfortunately, yes.”
But not as pained as Dakota, who had finally joined our meeting. The actress strode down a row of red-leaved plants with a frown marring her face. I wished I’d heard her come into the greenhouse.
“Are you talking about Caitlin?” Dakota had turned white, her freckles vividly standing out from her pale skin. I did a double take. I was still getting used to her newly dyed red hair.
“Have a seat, dear,” Iris tried to smooth things over to no avail. I wondered how much Dakota had heard, and if it had included Iris stating that Ellie was a better actress than Dakota.
“Please don’t bring it up. I have guilt every day over what happened.” Dakota’s hand fluttered uncertainly up to her mouth.
Why would she have guilt about what happened to Caitlin if it was an accident?
Ellie nervously switched subjects and we turned to the business of making Dakota’s secret wedding a reality. I put thoughts of Caitlin Quinn and accidents in Los Angeles in the back of my brain and turned to the pressing tasks at hand. We were running out of time to plan Dakota’s wedding and soon might have to fall back on the black-and-white wedding plans.
“We need to transform the greenhouse,” I announced. “Right now, it’s just soil. We have a blank canvas, which is good, but it won’t do on its own.”
I’d planned on filling the large space, which could accommodate dinner for fifty, with a mixture of perennials and vegetables. But I didn’t have the greenest thumb, and so far the greenhouse had remained fallow since its renovation in the fall.
“What about bleeding hearts?” Ellie paused and cocked her head. “We have a bumper crop of them ready each Valentine’s Day, and not all of them are spoken for.”
We followed Ellie deep into the greenhouse to a section overtaken by a sea of bleeding hearts, the blooms dramatic with white heart-shaped buds atop quivering red teardrops.
Dakota reac
hed out to finger a plant. “Oh, these are just perfect.”
I nodded and pictured how the bleeding hearts would look. “I talked to a florist I don’t usually work with, who will try to get in the red, pink and white blooms in time for us to make arrangements in vases, too. We can set the vases on each table so the bleeding hearts don’t have to carry the whole theme.”
My usual florist couldn’t tackle Dakota’s changed plans. I’d had to beg the other two florists in Port Quincy. The owner of the Petal Shop had balked at my request at first, since Valentine’s Day was the busiest day of the year, until I named a dizzying sum authorized by Dakota and Beau to make it happen. I hated to throw money around to get the job done, but I guess that was part and parcel of being part of this celebrity wedding.
“And I was thinking we could release some butterflies in honor of Ginger,” Ellie tentatively offered. “Since they were her favorite.”
Dakota enveloped her friend with a crushing hug. “That’s perfect.” Her eyes grew wistful. “I can’t believe she told you she was seeing someone but didn’t tell me.” Hurt pooled in the violet depths.
Ellie sighed and dug her hands into her pockets. “She wouldn’t tell me who she was dating, but she must have had her reasons.”
“But we were the three musketeers,” Dakota persisted. “If she couldn’t tell us, who could she tell?”
Owen seems to know a lot about Ginger’s life, especially if they dined together once a week. Maybe he knows.
Iris brought me back to the task at hand and explained how many bleeding hearts she estimated it would take to fill the empty beds in Thistle Park’s greenhouse. We walked around the nursery to broker the purchase of some other white and pink flowers to round out the display.
“We’ll need to plant the flowers ourselves,” Iris warned, “and it won’t be easy work. You’ll have to wear gloves, too. Bleeding hearts give some people a slight rash. They’re mildly poisonous if ingested in high quantities.”
“Well, no one’s eating them, so I think we’re okay.” I reached out to touch a delicate bell-shaped bloom of a diminutive mauve flowering plant with lustrous, dark purplish black berries.
“Don’t touch that!”
I pulled my hand back as if I’d singed myself and jumped.
“S-sorry.” I moved from the plant and turned with what must have been a quizzical look for Iris.
“That’s belladonna,” she said with utmost seriousness. “Also known as deadly nightshade. It’s highly poisonous, and unlike bleeding hearts, you don’t need much.”
I shivered and retracted my hand, still scratched and bleeding from breaking the glass in my office to try to save Ginger.
* * *
I headed home to shower and get ready for dinner with Rachel and Xavier. I wondered again if we were to be offered our own show. My sister and I showed up at Pellegrino’s restaurant at seven, eagerly looking for the director. We settled into a discreet, deep wooden booth in the corner, Rachel straining her neck to catch a glimpse of Xavier. Tiny blush candles in miniature heart candelabras graced each table, and little magenta gerbera daisies winked from small silver vases in an understated nod to the Valentine’s month.
A whiff of Calèche wafted over and I froze.
Helene, I mouthed to my sister. I needn’t have warned her, as my arch nemesis’s voice soon followed.
“She simply ruined the Winter Ball—she was aiding and abetting with Ginger Crevecoeur. If she thinks she can get away with that, she’s got another think coming.”
My heart sped up as I wondered if Helene was talking about me. I craned my head out of the booth at an unladylike angle and caught a glimpse of my old fiancé, Keith, and his new fiancée, Becca Cunningham. Keith nodded and encouraged his mother to go on, taking in every word. But Becca slunk lower in her seat, the black stripe of her part highlighted against her blond hair. She stared into her lap and seemed to wish to disappear.
A strange rush of pathos crested and crashed over my shoulders. Keith had cheated on me with Becca, and his own grandmother had let me in on the trespass. I was wary of Becca, but I had to remind myself that it was Keith who’d decided to step out on our engagement. Becca had made no such pledge.
I’d spent many an evening right here in Pellegrino’s with what I’m sure was a similarly miserable look on my face, listening to Helene hold court as the reigning queen bee of Port Quincy. Most of that time had been planning my wedding, or Helene’s second wedding, as I liked to think of it. I’d ended up crafting a ceremony and reception to please Helene’s every whim. It was my first gig as wedding planner, however inadvertent.
“I’m off to powder my nose,” Helene announced to Keith and Becca. “When I get back, we’ll continue planning your wedding.”
I shivered at her pronouncement. I wouldn’t wish wedding planning with Helene on anyone, even the woman who had sort of stolen my once fiancé. Becca sagged in her chair and watched Helene’s retreating back with a look of utter relief. Keith continued digging into his dinner.
Oblivious as usual.
“I just know she murdered Ginger, and she’s going to get away with it,” Rachel seethed, watching Helene mince off to the restroom on her kitten heels.
“I’d agree, but she wouldn’t use a mixture of bleach and ammonia to do it.” I was pretty certain Helene had never met a cleaning product in her life, and she wouldn’t be aware of the dangers of mixing the two chemicals.
“Ladies.”
Xavier had arrived in all his Zen glory, and I put the thought of Helene out of my head. I basked in the positive energy of his megawatt smile and glanced around to see if he’d brought one of his ubiquitous smoothies. His hands were empty, and he apologized for being late.
He chatted shop for a while, beating around the bush until our orders were taken. Rachel and Xavier got salads, and I ordered capellini pomodoro.
“I had a string of bad luck after Silverlake High went off the air,” Xavier mused. “Caitlin Quinn was our star, although Dakota would have eventually eclipsed her. When Caitlin passed away, the show was cancelled, and I had to remake my career.”
He took a sip of green tea and winced. “Reality TV transformed my career. It’s what I’m meant to do. I’m always looking for a new idea, and I have a great one.”
Rachel eagerly leaned in, her salad forgotten.
“The network wants to do a show focused on regular, everyday couples. Interest in celebrity weddings is waning. There’s one on every weekend, some special or other.”
He pushed his wire frames down his nose and looked at us each in turn.
“I’ve been keeping my eye out for a certain talent for the show. And you two are just what I’m looking for.”
Rachel couldn’t suppress a squeal, and I had to admit I was excited too.
“You two will be great. You have just the right mix of girl-next-door appeal with a little extra zing. I appreciate how the two of you work well together as sisters, but you have your differences too.”
“I think viewers will really connect with the small-town aspect,” I gushed, thinking a show held at the B and B with normal weddings would be fun. Maybe we’d even get some creative input, and the show wouldn’t need to focus on the divisiveness that can sometimes go along with wedding planning. “People will fall in love with Port Quincy.”
Xavier’s face fell. “There’s one thing. This is a destination wedding show, not one based in Port Quincy.” He raised his brows over his glasses expectantly, his silvery spiky hair catching the light.
I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs. “Destination weddings?” I felt like Charlie Brown with the football yanked away at the last second.
But Rachel was glowing. “I adore traveling. Oh, Mallory, this is so exciting!”
“We’ll film four months of the year. Do you have someone else to run the B and B?” Xavier winced again as he took a sip of wine, and I wondered if there was something wrong with it.
A frisson of annoyance replaced my c
oncern. Xavier was acting as if Rachel and I would immediately be on board.
“This is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Xavier continued, seeming to sense my hesitance. “You’ll get free publicity, your star will rise, and so will business back home at your B and B.”
I wasn’t so sure I could leave Port Quincy. Things were getting more serious with Garrett, and the B and B was already doing well, thank you very much.
Rachel looked worried. I could see a campaign stirring in her pretty green eyes. My sister was indomitable when she wanted something, and she wanted this show.
Dessert arrived, black coffee and fruit compote for Rachel, more green tea for Xavier, and tiramisu for me. I took a delectable bite of the creamy dessert, and then began to choke.
There, before me, Garrett led Adrienne into the dining room, his hand on the small of her back. He steadied her as she tripped on her towering red-soled Louboutins. I knew it was a fake falter, because no one could walk on those stilts better than Adrienne. When I made a rare attempt to walk in heels that high, I had the ungainly gait of a flamingo. But the shoes seemed like a seamless extension of Adrienne’s appendages, rendering her a graceful gazelle.
Xavier excused himself to use the restroom, the pained look returning to his face.
“Why aren’t you paying attention?” Rachel practically hissed. She took in my stricken face and wheeled around, taking in my beau with his former flame. “Oh. I get it now.”
Xavier returned, clutching his stomach, his face a mask of pain.
“I’ll get the check, ladies. Think about my offer.”
He settled up, and a light bulb seemed to go off in his head. “You two handle so many weddings. Do you have any tips on proposing to Adrienne?” His bright, toothy smile grew muted and wistful. “She’s been waiting for this for an awfully long time.”
“Are you going to propose while you’re in Port Quincy?”
He nodded, wincing as he clutched his stomach. “Some type of bug must be going around,” he muttered.
Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue Page 9