The soaring pin oak tree that had first drawn her to the Victorian on Charm Street was ablaze with deep red foliage typical for early October. The glorious ruby color clashed horrifically with the vicious pink hue the painters were rolling onto the wood siding—another insult. The last time the leaves had been red—this time last year—she had been happy...mostly.
Last summer had been fraught with stress as she had debated whether or not to clear the land they owned behind The Charm Farm to plant an organic vegetable garden. Deke had been vehemently opposed to the idea, saying he had other plans for the empty half-acre lot, but Penny had had the distinct feeling her husband had been trying to undermine her business, which he had pooh-poohed from the beginning. When she'd first suggested they convert the small rental house across the street that his father had given him into a retail business, Deke had made her feel foolish.
"A health food store in Mojo?" He'd laughed until his eyes had run. "Maybe a fish and chips joint. In case you haven't noticed, honey, the deep south really means the deep fried south."
Hurt, but determined to put her rusty nutrition degree and homeopathic know-how to good use, Penny had persisted. After a rocky start, her enterprise had taken off. As it turned out, the residents of Mojo preferred home remedies to fancy doctoring, and The Charm Farm's inventory of roots, herbs, and vitamins fit the bill nicely.
But while her business had grown steadily, the law practice Deke had taken over from his father had started to slide. Two of his big manufacturing clients had jumped to more tony law firms in nearby New Orleans. Deke had begun to supplement his client list with personal injury cases, and supplement his diet with bourbon.
The downturn in his business had coincided perfectly with a midlife crisis. One day he had driven home a new fire engine red two-seater Lotus Elise. That was about the same time Penny had found brochures for hair transplants in his briefcase. With new lingerie and lots of TLC, she had tried to head off what had seemed to be an inevitable affair, but in the end, terminally tanned and ferociously feminine Sheena Linder had been too much for a simple man like Deke to resist.
Penny and Sheena weren't complete strangers. The women had met once when Penny had visited Sheena's Forever Sun tanning salon and asked that Sheena give her customers a flyer on the dangers of tanning so they could make a more informed decision before roasting themselves. Sheena had called her the "c" word and had thrown her out of Forever Sun, threatening to sue for trespassing and mental anguish. Penny found out later her trip to the tanning salon had prompted Sheena to see Deke about possibly filing a lawsuit against some crazy woman named Penny Black. Apparently Deke had overlooked Sheena's inability to figure out her new attorney and her intended defendant shared the same last name and might be related or, in this case, married. Thankfully, Deke hadn't filed a suit against Penny on Sheena's behalf. Instead he'd started porking Sheena, and now Penny's last name was no longer Black.
Life was nothing if not ironic. Penny had secured the barracuda of an attorney from the city who had handled her friend Liz's divorce. After much legal wrangling, Deke had gotten the Victorian and the property it sat on, and Penny had gotten The Charm Farm and the property it sat on. When the final papers had been signed earlier in the week, Penny had staked out the premeditated garden with pink flags. Those flags symbolized her own growth and filled her with a sense of purpose.
And she also gained satisfaction in knowing one day, Sheena Linder would crawl out of one of her tanning beds looking like a dried-apple-head doll. Penny's skin, on the other hand, would still be lily white and un-wrinkled...but lightly veined...and...freckled. She frowned suddenly, trying to remember why she had felt so victorious.
Across the street, a faded green sedan pulled into her former driveway behind Lou Hall's painting van. Probably another workman hired to do something else unconscionable to her beloved house. She started to turn away when the car door opened and a tall man she didn't recognize climbed out. With the binoculars she could see he was long-limbed and well built. Unbidden, a spark of appreciation flared in her stomach. The man was dark-haired, dressed in boots, brown leather coat, and faded jeans he tugged higher as he approached the steps leading to the front porch of the house. His loose-hipped walk suggested an affinity for...something other than Pilates.
Penny's tongue lodged firmly in her cheek. What was a handsome man doing at the house at an hour when Deke was at his office and Sheena was purportedly indisposed with an injury from the Yoohoo spill? Maybe Sheena was already bored with Deke's fumbling foreplay and dense back hair and had decided to call in reinforcements.
The fact that the thought cheered her immensely proved just how much the nasty divorce had changed her; before she wouldn't have wished evil on anyone, no matter what they had done to her, but now...well, now she had fantasies about Deke getting his comeuppance in a manner worthy of a regional headline. She glanced toward the phone and seriously toyed with the idea of calling Deke and inventing an emergency to bring him running home. How fitting if Deke walked in on Sheena doing the nasty with another guy in the same bed in which she had caught Deke and Sheena going at it like two greased pistons.
She would probably never be able to get that horrific image out of her head. Now, ten months later, the detail she remembered most vividly was the bottoms of Sheena's feet (stuck up in the air) were dirty, and the fact that she was sullying Penny's organic cotton sheets in the process of shagging her husband was just...well, unforgivable, really.
Penny pressed the binoculars closer to the window, her mind spinning gleeful scenarios, all of them ending with Deke crawling back to her—not that it would do any good, but oh, the sweet satisfaction.
The stranger's body language was definitely suspicious as he climbed the steps, stabbed the doorbell, and waited in the shadows of the covered porch. He looked from side to side, his gaze seeming to catch and linger on the antique metal glider she had painstakingly stripped of countless layers of peeling paint and refurbished for the porch. His good taste in furniture apparently did not extend to women, Penny thought sourly. The door opened and Sheena stood there in a pale, voluminous peignoir, a la Zsa Zsa Gabor, her orange skin glowing like a jack-o'-lantern, nary a back brace or neck cast in sight.
Penny waited for the man to scoop Sheena into his arms, or for her to flash him some leg—or an orange boob. Instead, his posture went rigid and he appeared to say something she didn't like. Sheena's blond head tilted, her hip cocked saucily, and her face contorted. Then she tried to close the door, but the man wedged his foot in the opening long enough to add something. When he withdrew his foot, the door closed, and Penny imagined the thwack of the dead bolt turning as she had turned it many times herself.
The man retraced his steps to the car, every footfall exuding frustration. Penny couldn't get a good look at his face as he swung into the driver's seat. Exhaust blasted out of the tailpipe when he started the car engine. He backed out of the driveway onto Charm Street and sped away in the direction of downtown Mojo. For some reason, though, she doubted the man was in town for the Voodoo Festival.
Penny's pulse spiked. Who was the mystery man to her ex-husband's shack-up honey? A relative? A debtor?
A lover?
Chapter Two
Add a dash of weakness...
SUDDENLY PENNY REALIZED Marie was speaking. The mini-blind snapped back in place. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
Beneath her blue pixie haircut, Marie frowned and leaned into the counter. "I said are you going to let a bad paint job ruin tonight's party?"
Penny pulled her mind back to the moment and made her best attempt at a smile. "No. It's sweet of you to throw a party to celebrate my divorce." In truth, she dreaded it like a pelvic exam. People used to mourn a broken marriage—now greeting card companies offered "you're better off without him" poetry. It all felt very sordid to her, but she knew Marie was only trying to lift her spirits. "I've never been to a divorce party—what will we do?"
"Well—"
The phone ran
g and Penny held up her finger. "Hold that thought." Praying that Marie's thought was of canceling the party, Penny shoved the binoculars into her pocket, then walked to the front counter and picked up the handset next to the cash register. "Charm Farm, Penny speaking."
"Penny, it's Gloria Dalton. Is this a bad time?"
At the sound of her divorce attorney's voice, Penny grimaced. "Only if this is bad news."
"No," Gloria said quickly. "Actually I was just...checking on you."
Penny blinked. "Checking on me?"
"Call me a mother hen. I know sometimes the finality of signing the divorce papers can pack an emotional punch." She cleared her throat. "I just wanted to let you know if you ever feel like talking..."
"I'm fine," Penny rushed to fill in the pause, realizing in flushed embarrassment that Gloria hadn't bought all those excuses about allergies when her eyes had watered and her nose had run during consultations.
"I know things between you and Deke ended on a sour note," Gloria said. "If he harasses you, Penny, I'll help you to get a restraining order."
The vehemence in her voice made Penny wonder if Gloria had firsthand experience with restraining orders. Penny gave a hoarse laugh. "He painted my old house pink—can you do anything about that?"
Gloria sighed. "You know I can't. I wish I could have gotten you the house, too."
"I'm happier with my business. He only wanted this place so he could shut me down, you know. All that talk about his father giving him this place and it having sentimental value was bull."
"Still, I'm sorry that he's being so childish about painting the house."
"Well, I couldn't care less," Penny lied, then glanced up. Her gaze landed on Marie. "In fact, I'm having a party tonight to...celebrate my freedom."
"Oh. That's...great." Gloria made an approving noise.
"If you don't have plans, join us. We'll be at Caskey's bar on the square. The Voodoo Festival is going on, so Mojo is hopping with activity for once."
"Sounds tempting," Gloria said. "I'd love to drive over, but I already have a...commitment...of sorts."
A date? Penny wondered. Gloria Dalton was beautiful, but emitted a general disdain for men. "Okay. Well, thanks for calling," Penny said, trying to sound breezy.
"Sure. And Penny...that offer to talk is always open."
"Thank you," Penny said somewhat woodenly. She felt so pathetic—her own attorney pitied her. "Goodbye, Gloria."
She hung up the phone and thought not for the first time that the woman was very good at her job; she had, after all, blocked Deke's vigorous attempt to keep the rental house. Yet it seemed to Penny that Gloria Dalton carried out her duties of legally dividing married couples with a certain sadness—Penny sensed the attractive New Orleans attorney had a story.
She pursed her mouth. But then, didn't everyone?
"Bad news?" Marie asked across the room.
"No," Penny said, then exhaled and donned a cheerful expression as she walked over to the smoothie counter where Marie was working. "You were about to tell me what to expect tonight at the party?"
Marie's smile was secretive as she pushed a glass of yellow-colored juice toward Penny. "I have a few surprises planned."
Penny picked up the glass with a wry smile. "No offense, Marie, but I've had enough surprises to last a lifetime. I'm ready for my life to settle into a nice, quiet rut."
"Good surprises," Marie amended. "We'll have fun."
Penny sipped from the glass and murmured when the citrusy, almost floral-flavored juice washed over her taste buds. "Mmm, this is good."
"It's my own blend. I was thinking about adding it to the menu for the festival crowd."
Penny narrowed her eyes. "As long as you didn't sneak in some suspect ingredient."
Marie grinned. "Can I help it if my juice boosts sex drive?"
Penny reluctantly swallowed the mouthful of tangy stuff she'd been savoring. "What's in this?"
"Just a little bee pollen and some ginseng." Marie's eyes twinkled. "And a secret ingredient or two."
Penny wagged her finger. "We have to divulge our recipes to our customers, Marie. And I'm afraid you wasted your love potion on me."
Marie sighed. "Penny, Deke put you through a horrible ordeal, but don't let him keep you down." She gestured wide. "Just look at your success."
Penny pivoted her head to take in the two large rooms they'd created when they'd gutted the rental house. She tried to view her business as a stranger might. The high ceilings had been fitted with two skylights to allow natural light to flood the space. One room housed shelves and racks of bottled vitamins, minerals, and a plethora of other natural additives in powder, liquid, crystal, and solid form, plus books, magazines, and other packaged products aimed at attaining a healthy lifestyle.
The second room featured the juice bar, plus bins and baskets of colorful organic produce, including dried and fresh herbs, roots, barks, teas, edible flowers, and other goods harvested from their tiny herb garden and from other sources. The wide-plank oak floors had been left alone, the distressed finish adding to the homey feeling of a general store. With the soothing sounds of nature playing through overhead speakers, The Charm Farm was a fragrant, welcoming place. Pride swelled her chest at the thought that from the germ of an idea, she had built a profitable business. Yet a tiny pang managed to slice through her satisfaction: She had hoped to share her success with Deke.
The idea that they were no longer a couple still hadn't completely sunk in. Oh, her mind was processing the information rationally, but her heart seemed to be lagging woefully behind.
"And soon you'll be expanding with your garden," Marie pointed out. "You'll probably make a killing this week with the festival. You're sitting on a gold mine here—and you did it all without freaky Deke."
Penny sighed. "Actually, in spite of him. Deke was never particularly supportive of the business."
"I wish all men were like my Kirk," Marie said dreamily. "He always encourages me to try new things."
Penny tried not to roll her eyes. Ever since Marie had begun working at The Charm Farm, she had regaled Penny with the virtues of Kirk, her long-distance boyfriend. The man was, among other things, a real estate baron, pilot of his own private plane, an accomplished sailor, a martial arts expert, a big-game hunter, a world-class chef, and a poet. Marie was vague about how they'd met, and they corresponded via e-mail, text, and webcam. Penny had begun to believe that, at best, "Kirk" was simply a figment of the young woman's imagination or, at worst, a predatory con-man. But she tamped her skepticism and murmured, "Lucky you."
"What did you do before you had this business?" Marie asked.
"I worked in Deke's law office."
"Ah."
Penny could see the words going through the young woman's head—the business had contributed to her marriage breakup. Words that Deke's mother, Mona Black, had uttered often enough in Penny's ear: "If you don't give up on this fool notion of running your own business, you're going to lose Deke. You should be working to build his business, or go home and have children, like a proper wife."
One upside of the divorce, Penny acknowledged, was breaking familial ties with the overbearing woman. Of course, since Mona was also the mayor of Mojo, Penny couldn't escape her grasp completely.
"I don't think our marriage would have lasted even if I hadn't opened this business," she said in her defense, which was ridiculous because she didn't have to convince Marie. Was she trying to convince herself? "Deke and I were so different, all the way down to our diet."
Marie laughed. "I'm not sticking up for Deke, but I don't know anyone who eats as healthy as you do."
"Junk in, junk out." Penny knew she sounded prim, but it was important to her that she lived the lifestyle that she touted to her customers. She'd always been health conscious, but little by little, since she'd opened the store, she'd given up red meat, white meat, trans fats, caffeine, refined sugar, alcohol, and dairy products. Now she took a multi-vitamin, calcium, extra vit
amin B, C, D, and E, fish oil, St. John's Wort, and grape seed extract, along with downing flaxseed, steel-cut oats, bran, tofu, and green tea. She ran three miles a day and did Pilates five times a week and slathered on sunscreen with SPF 40 even on cloudy days. By all rights, she should live forever...if the stress of divorcing Deke didn't kill her. She walked back to the window and fingered open the blind.
Marie grunted. "Okay, so you'll have the last laugh because you'll outlive Deke by forty years. But the important thing is now that the divorce is final, you have to get on with your life."
Penny bristled and turned her head. "I am getting on with my life."
"No—you're standing at the window and spying on your former life."
Penny stepped back, and the blinds rattled. Her cheeks flamed as she avoided the gaze of the younger woman. She suddenly wished she had maintained more of a professional distance with her employees. They knew too much about her affairs; conversely, she knew very little about their personal lives....
Marie made a sympathetic noise in her throat. "I know it's hard, but that's why I'm throwing you a party—to celebrate a new phase of your life. New digs, new business...new man."
"Whoa—slow down."
Marie wiggled her blue eyebrows. "Rebound sex is the best."
Penny gasped, then tried to look haughty. "How do you know I haven't already had rebound sex? Maybe I'm rebounding every single night." In truth, Deke had been the last man she'd slept with, and that had been over a year ago.
Marie gave her a pointed gaze. "I'll bet you ten dollars that the next person who walks through the door is having more sex than you."
Once again, the thought flitted through Penny's head that Marie had ESP. A chime sounded, signaling the arrival of a customer. Penny turned, then bit back a smile when she saw Jules Lamborne—Mojo resident and oldest woman in the state of Louisiana at one hundred and nine years—stride in sporting a walking stick, her white, wispy hair floating around her smiling, leathery face beneath a tattered bucket hat. So much for Marie's ESP.
Love Can Be Murder Box Set Page 29