Beatrice looked across the room and met Nell’s eyes one second before Nell could look away. The mayor was a formidable force, and sometimes avoiding conversations with her made for a more peaceful evening, in Nell’s opinion.
But it was too late. With an enthusiastic wave, Beatrice gestured them over.
“Two of my favorite people,” the mayor said, standing up on her signature three-inch heels, smoothing her silk suit, then kissing Ben on each cheek. She turned from Ben and gave Nell a hug.
“Always the politician, Beatrice,” Ben laughed. “You’ve perfected the gracious hello.”
Stuart stood and shook hands all around. “That’s our mayor. But we love her just the same, even though she makes us look puny and poorly dressed sometimes.”
Beatrice ignored him and looked beyond Ben and over to a nearby table where Izzy, Charlie, and the others had already emptied one basket of calamari. “That’s Izzy’s brother, correct? I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet. Helen and Stu tell me he’s been hanging out at the company business office.”
“Charlie?” Nell said, puzzled. “I don’t think so . . .” She glanced over at Charlie.
“Amber Harper has practically moved in over there,” Beatrice said. “She’s doing everything but sleeping on the desk. Garrett can barely get to his files, or so I’ve heard.”
Garrett looked annoyed, but more at the mayor and what she was saying than being inconvenienced. He was about to say something when Barbara discreetly touched Beatrice’s arm and said firmly, “Bea, it’s all right. Let’s not drag the whole town into this.”
But Beatrice was known for protecting her political supporters, and the Cummings family was among the most lucrative and generous of them. She looked at Barbara, then Stu. “I’m sure you’ll be able to control the situation. But if City Hall can be of assistance, I want you to know that you have my help and support.”
Ben frowned. “City Hall?”
But Beatrice wasn’t quite through. “Barbara and Stuart are trying to protect the amazing and successful company their mother and father worked so hard to build. Cummings Northshore Nurseries does wonderful things for our town. Having a stranger come in and poke around isn’t appropriate now, is it?” She tossed the question out indiscriminately, to anyone who might want to answer it. Her black eyes flashed.
Her voice level, her face expressionless, Barbara answered, “She’s doing it because she now owns part of the company, Beatrice. You know that. She’ll lose interest soon.”
“I just wonder what she hopes to find over there,” Helen said, speaking up for the first time. She looked around at the others, her shyness lessened by a sip of martini.
Helen was the opposite of her sister-in-law, Nell thought, watching her now. She wondered if they were friends—or simply thrown together by marriage, polite sisters-in-law. As always, Helen’s attire was impeccable and more feminine than Barbara’s—a tasteful green wool dress, a gold necklace circling her long neck, and an elegant brooch near the scooped neckline. Helen clearly cared for herself, making the most of what otherwise might have been nondescript features, a long and narrow nose and chin, graying hair covered expertly with dark brown highlights. Nell imagined the two women’s contrasting days: Helen’s at a salon or gym and doing whatever she could to make her husband’s life more comfortable; Barbara’s in an office crowded with files and books and computers, her keen mind playing with figures and financial reports.
Stu glanced down at his wife and answered her question, his face not as cheery as normal, but his voice calm and reasonable. “It’s not rocket science what she’s looking for—Miss Harper is trying to get her arms around what she inherited. Barbara’s right—she’ll soon figure out that running a company is complicated—business always is—and she’ll do the right thing and move on with her life. It’s what my good mother intended. I’m putting together a package for her right now. She doesn’t know anything about business—she’s been a waitress in Florida from what my sources tell me.” Stu smiled and huffed at their foolish worry. The cigar in his shirt pocket wobbled against his wide chest. “Problem resolved,” he said.
His intentions were clear—to change the subject and move to the buffet where steaming containers of boiled lobster and crab and piles of oysters were waiting.
Nell looked over at Ben, who was as uncomfortable as she was at being privy to the Cummingses’ private family and business affairs—and equally appreciative of Stu’s cordial and valiant attempt to end the discussion.
But his reasoning wasn’t very sound, a fact that didn’t escape either of the Endicotts. If Lydia Cummings intended for Amber to sell the Sea Harbor Nursery back to her children, why didn’t she just give her granddaughter a monetary inheritance and avoid this kind of consternation?
Nell was even more curious about what Charlie’s role was in the whole affair. She looked over at him now, his head back, laughing at something. “Is Charlie helping Amber in some way?” she asked Garrett and Barbara. “Why is he at the office?”
Barbara looked at Garrett, who seemed hesitant to answer. Finally he said, “Miss Harper seems to have her friend Charlie on speed dial. She was at the office until nearly midnight one night—I stayed too, not wanting to leave her alone. She said Charlie was picking her up and I didn’t need to stick around, but I felt I should.”
“That was nice of you,” Nell said, although she wasn’t sure that was what it was. Garrett looked nervous, and she had the distinct impression that leaving Amber alone in the office would be like leaving a stranger alone in his house. Especially one he didn’t trust.
When no one else spoke, Garrett seemed to feel the need to fill the silence with more information. “I offered to answer any questions she had, but she doesn’t seem to want that kind of help from me,” he said. “We have an intern, Zack Levin. She goes to him, but he’s there to help with the computers, that’s all. He doesn’t know anything. Mostly Amber pokes around on her own, reading company history, files, computer files, whatever she can get her hands on, using my printer. My worry is that something might get misplaced or lost. I keep careful track of everything. I suggested she might stick to regular company hours, but, well, she made it clear our office wasn’t the only thing on her agenda. She’d fit it in when she could.”
“All right, then.” Stu smiled broadly and pulled out a chair for his sister. “On a more festive note, we’ll see all of you Saturday, no?”
“Saturday?” Nell said, and then she remembered. It was the evening the decorating teams laid claim to their tree. “Of course we’ll be there. Let’s hope for decent weather.”
“It doesn’t matter. Stu has thought of everything,” Helen said, reaching up and touching her husband’s arm, smiling at him. “Northshore Nurseries is putting up a heated tent on the Harbor Green. It will be a winter wonderland event.”
When Nell and Ben finally reached their table, Danny assured them their drinks were on their way and that he’d ordered more appetizers for the table. “I thought for a minute you’d ditched us to be seen with the mayor, maybe get your picture taken?”
Everyone laughed. They all liked Beatrice well enough, and to the surprise of some, she was doing a decent job as mayor. But spending an evening with the very opinionated and talkative mayor would not be on Ben Endicott’s bucket list, not in a million years.
“The Cummingses look a little worse for wear,” Izzy said. She glanced over, then quickly back when she noticed Helen Cummings staring at their table.
Nell glanced back, too. Garrett looked worn out, and she realized she had never heard him string so many words together. And to do it in front of all the Cummingses plus the mayor had to have added stress to his effort.
Charlie followed her look. “I met that guy last night,” he said. “He doesn’t talk much, but I don’t think he’s crazy about Amber coming in like she owns the place.”
“B
ut she does,” Sam said. “At least part of it.”
“What’s she going to do with it?” Cass asked.
“Are you asking me?” Charlie asked, poking a thumb into his chest. “Amber keeps things pretty close to her chest.” He changed the topic. Finally Ben roused them by rising from his chair and suggesting they head for the buffet table and show Charlie what living in Sea Harbor was all about.
Plates were filled with baked potatoes, lobster and crab, coleslaw, and cheesy corn. The waitress had left baskets of rolls and Irish butter on the tables, along with bowls of sauces and dips.
“Why don’t all of you weigh seven hundred pounds?” Charlie finally asked. He pushed his chair back a few inches and stared at his plate that had been wiped clean more than once.
“Because we’ve learned not to go back for seconds and thirds,” Izzy said sweetly.
Even Charlie laughed, then heartily seconded Ben’s suggestion that they finish off the meal with baked apple and cinnamon ice cream. Then he backed out of the conversation and let the talk circle around him, looking down at his lap as his thumb tapped on his phone, checking for messages.
From the other side of the table, Danny brought the conversation back to the reluctant guest. “So you played football in college, Charlie?”
“High school,” he said.
“But . . . ,” Izzy began to correct him. But the memory was vague. She was in law school on the East Coast when Charlie went off to college half a country away. She looked over at Nell, who seemed to be picking at her own memories as well.
“He played in college, too,” Sam said.
Charlie nodded. “Oh, yeah, for a while.” He got up then and excused himself, heading for the restrooms.
“That’s one way to avoid being the center of attention,” Izzy said.
Nell watched her nephew disappear. Yes, that was one way. Easier, for sure, than the other way Charlie had tried—quitting college, disappearing into his own world.
Sam watched Charlie, too. His eyebrows pulled together as his mind crawled back into time. He remembered how strong the youthful Charlie was, powerful. On and off the field. He didn’t see it now, not in his stature, his manner. Not good or bad. But different. Charlie was different.
The memory slipped away as Charlie returned to the table. His demeanor was lighter, back on an even keel. Ben suggested more coffee or after-dinner drinks.
His offer was suddenly interrupted by the howl of a coyote.
Charlie grimaced, a blush coloring his chiseled profile. “Got to change that text tone,” he mumbled, and dug his cell phone out of his pocket.
He read the message, then looked up, shaking his head. “Looks like my princess needs a chariot or whatever.”
Before questions intervened, he grabbed his jacket, gave Nell a hug, and thanked Ben for the dinner. Then, with an athlete’s grace, he moved across the crowded dining room to the parking lot exit.
Ben watched him walk away. “So much for an early night.”
“It’s the ‘whatever’ in his comment that bothers me,” Izzy said.
“He barely knows her,” Cass said. “What, five, six days? Is that how long since they met?”
“I fell in love with Sonny the day I met him,” Birdie said. Her head tilted to one side, her eyes bright and thoughtful as she spoke of a love that had lasted fifty years and was still going strong, untarnished by her husband’s death years before.
“You did, too, Cass—come on, admit it,” Danny teased.
They all laughed at the unexpected blush that crept up Cass’s cheeks.
“See?” Ben said. “Love doesn’t wear a watch.”
Nell studied Ben’s face and knew he had more to say. He wanted to take the attention off Charlie. Ben felt strongly that the last thing their nephew needed was interference in his life. He’d disappeared from them once. They didn’t want it to happen again.
Chapter 12
Nell turned the wheel and rounded the corner onto Harbor Road too quickly, hoping one of Tommy Porter’s squad wasn’t around. She scolded herself mentally and slowed down as she neared Harry Garozzo’s deli. She had planned her day carefully, allowing just enough time after a meeting at the museum to pick up a loaf of bread, then was going home to finish off the casserole for the evening knitting session.
Every Thursday knitting session was important, but when emotional clouds as heavy and ponderous as a nor’easter weighed over all of them, the gatherings took on even more urgency. They were utterly necessary.
A parking place opened up a few steps down from Harry’s deli and Nell maneuvered her car into the space. She had gathered up her bag and her keys, and started walking toward the deli, when she stopped suddenly.
The wide display windows of the Italian deli were filled today with elves and reindeer and baskets of Italian bread, but what caused Nell’s slowdown was the unlikely couple exiting through the glass door.
Helen Cummings moved through the door, then looked briefly at the younger woman directly behind her, who was holding the door open for the older woman. Helen was walking straight and stiff, as if she’d injured her back. But when she turned and Nell glimpsed her face, she knew it wasn’t her back that was bothering her.
It was the woman holding the door.
Amber stood still, her face impassive, her eyes locked in to Helen’s.
Helen raised one arm, her gloved hand spreading open, her fingers tight together, as if she wanted to slap someone.
The younger woman didn’t move, although her expression changed slightly, a look of defiance settling in.
Finally Helen dropped her arm and spun around, then walked away so quickly that her boots nearly slipped out from beneath her. She regained her composure quickly and without a backward glance hurried down the street, oblivious of Nell’s presence.
Amber let the door close behind her and stood on the sidewalk briefly, looking at Harry’s imaginative display window. Then she shifted the deli bag from one arm to the other and took off in the opposite direction, a slight spring to her step.
Nell leaned back against her car, processing what she’d seen. Finally she remembered her schedule, hastily got out of the car, and walked into the deli.
As always, the aromas alone awakened her senses. Sweet and pungent odors of garlicky tomato sauce, pickles and peppers, freshly baked bread.
“Nellie, my love,” Harry greeted her from behind the counter, stretching his beefy hand across the glass case to grab her hand. “And what can I tempt you with today—Margaret’s saltimbocca? Her mother’s own recipe.” He kissed his fingers and lifted them into the air. “Magnifico.”
Nell laughed and pointed to a plump loaf of rustic Italian bread. “Thursday night at Izzy’s yarn shop,” she explained.
Harry slapped the side of his balding head. “I shoulda known. You don’t need Harry’s specials tonight.”
“Not tonight,” Nell said with a smile. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should mind her own business. But anything connected to Amber these days seemed a family matter, fair game, somehow. “Harry, I just saw Amber Harper walking out of here with Helen Cummings—”
Harry wrapped the bread quickly and then walked around the counter to the steamy window, rubbing it clear with stubby fingers.
When assured the women were no longer in sight, he sidled up close to Nell and lowered his head, his voice as quiet as Harry could get it. “Okay, now, what gives with those two?” he asked Nell. “Amber comes in for one of my wicked-good paninis today—she got an extra one for Izzy’s brother, she said. She’s in the money now, you know, with the Cummings inheritance.”
Nell nodded, always amazed at how quickly private matters became public in a small town. “So Amber and Helen weren’t here together?”
Harry guffawed. “Not till hell freezes over. It was a chance encounter, I suppose you’d say.
Helen comes in here often, late lunches with a friend after a tennis game or what have you, has a glass of wine—she loves my lambrusco—then she heads for early drinks down the street at the Ocean’s Edge or wherever. Or so I hear.” He shrugged. “Today she was alone, just sat there at her favorite table, chatting with my wife, enjoying the lambrusco.”
“It looked like she and Amber left together.”
“That they did. Amber was at the counter, waiting while I packed up her sandwiches. That’s when Helen walks up front, wrapping her scarf around her neck, heading for the door.”
Nell held her breath, feeling suddenly protective of Amber and hoping she hadn’t said something awful to Helen Cummings. Insulting a quiet, genteel woman who was the wife of the Cummingses’ CEO wouldn’t fare well as it traveled around town. “I hope Amber didn’t say anything. I know she has a temper, but this has been a trying week for her—”
“Amber? Oh, no, Nellie, you got it wrong. I don’t think Amber even noticed Helen. But Helen noticed her, right away. Bam, just like that. And that usually nice face hardened like granite. She walked over to her—scared Amber, she did—and began scolding her. Like a schoolmarm, at first. Accused her of causing unnecessary problems for the company. She needed to leave them alone, to leave town, something like that. And then she mentioned something about Ocean View.”
“Ocean View?” Nell said.
“Don’t know what that was about. She said Amber should be grateful for all Lydia Cummings did for her and her mother instead of minding other people’s business.”
“That’s odd.”
“Well, Nellie, the whole exchange was odd, if you ask me.”
“What did Amber do?”
“She ignored her at first, and that made Helen mad. So she poked at Amber with her finger to get her attention. Surprised my wife, who came around the corner and walked over to Helen, trying to calm her down. Margaret and Helen are friends. But neither of us had seen her like this. Poor lady was shaking. She just wants things to be good for Stu, I think, but Margaret thought maybe it was the lambrusco.
Trimmed With Murder Page 9