And Death Goes to . . .

by Laura Bradford

  I took a moment to steady my breath in the event the cookies we’d recently finished eating decided to make an encore. When I was sure they’d remain in place, I ventured into uncharted waters. “Grandpa, there’s nothing to forgive. I don’t have any problem with you dating—I think it has the potential to be kind of neat, actually. And as for Rapple? Well, let’s just say that referring to what we had as a friendship is, um, a bit of a stretch to say the least.”

  My grandfather’s surprisingly bushy eyebrows rose toward his bald head. “I saw you earlier today, dropping her and Gertie off. You had your arm around her as you walked her to the door.”

  “She needed someone to pick her up and—”

  “Martha needs that kind of affection. It’s hard being alone all the time, especially someone who’s had the life she’s had. I’m only here every few months or so. Martha is here all the time. I don’t want this thing that was building between us to affect your relationship. She needs all-the-time more than she needs some-of-the-time, Sugar Lump.”

  Especially someone who’s had the life she’s had?

  I shook off the curiosity born on the back of that sentence and willed myself to focus on the matter at hand, even if I was finding it hard to meet his eyes. “Grandpa, what you heard me say the other night? To Andy? I-I didn’t say those things because I was hoping you’d overhear me and break it off with Rapple. I said those things…to Andy…simply because that’s the way we all”—I paused to clear my throat and, as I did, stole a peek at my grandfather and the genuine cluelessness he wore.

  Somehow, someway, the hatred (okay, maybe intense dislike) my fellow neighbors and I had for Martha Rapple had escaped my grandfather. The thought was preposterous at first, but when I thought about my grandfather’s visits—really thought about them—it suddenly all made sense.

  Grandpa Stu’s very presence made everyone happier. And while none of us ever willingly included Rapple in any of our movie nights or gatherings when my grandfather was around, we never really said much about her in his presence, either. So when he invariably recognized a lonely soul, he reached out and drew her in—

  “That’s the way you all, what?” my grandfather asked, forcing me back to a track I didn’t want to be on at that moment.

  Yes, I knew we had a problem. Or, rather, I had a problem. But honestly, I was at a loss on how to fix it.

  Assuming, of course, I even wanted to fix it.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I tapped the pair of pajama pants still waiting in the crook of Grandpa Stu’s arm, and did my best to muster up a smile. “It’s getting late, and in addition to my regular work, you and I need to do some investigating tomorrow. So let’s table this for another time and get some sleep, okay?”

  ~Chapter Twenty-Two~

  I walked Gina Poletti, co-owner of Pizza Adventure and one of my very favorite clients, over to the front door and then leaned my cheek in for the pinch I’d come to expect and accept.

  “I know you’ll help us unveil the new destination room in a way that’ll have every table filled for the next month, at least.” Gina followed up her pinch with a kiss on my forehead. “It’s a given.”

  “A given? Gee, nothing like adding a little pressure.”

  Gina scoffed at my words. “I’m not trying to add pressure, Tobi. Quite the contrary, in fact. I just know how clever and creative you are. I’ve seen it countless times these past few months as you helped us introduce the St. Louis area to Dom’s pizza. Not only did you get—and keep—people in our seats, you also achieved the unthinkable.”

  “Whoa. As much as I’d love to take all the credit for the line you’ve had every weekend since you opened, I can’t. I mean, my ads may have helped get people to give you a try, but let’s be honest, it’s Dom’s pizza that has them coming back.” And it was true. Not even the most amazing advertising campaign on the face of the earth could make up for a bad product or a restaurant that failed to impress. Fortunately for Pizza Adventure, my campaign only told half the story. Dom Poletti’s pizza told the rest. In fact, it could be said he’d singlehandedly versed St. Louisans in the true definition of good pizza.

  “I’ll concede that. But don’t sell yourself short,” Gina said as she hung a purse on her forearm and readied her keys for the walk out to the car. “As I said, you achieved the unthinkable, dear.”

  Amused, I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall. “Okay… I’m waiting. What unthinkable feat did I achieve?”

  “You got Dom to stop thrashing around in bed at night, you got him to stop muttering under his breath every time he looked at anything involving the restaurant, and you got him to tell me”—she inhaled a triumphant breath—“I was right!”

  I heard JoAnna’s soft gasp from just around the corner, the sound only serving to intensify the grin I knew was in danger of splitting my face open. “Dom mutters?”

  “That’s the part you heard? That he—” She held up her non-key-holding hand and then swept at me as if I was a bothersome, albeit endearing, gnat. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed that moment in my head?”

  “Just in your head?” I teased.

  The telltale flush of embarrassment colored Gina’s cheeks a beat before her grin knocked mine off the Richter scale. “Okay, so I might have reminded him that he said I was right a time or two since he did.…”

  I laughed. So, too, did JoAnna from the other room. “A time or two?”

  “Well, maybe twenty—thirty, tops. Although Dom claims it’s been thirty-six.” Gina pushed open the front door of my agency and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “But don’t worry. Even if he’s exaggerating, I’m quite sure I’ll reach that number soon.”

  My laugh and my eyes followed her across the street and down to her car before I turned and made my way back to the reception area and a still chuckling JoAnna. “She’s a pistol that one.”

  “That’s one word for it.” I made my way over to the candy jar, inspected its contents, and then claimed the chair across from JoAnna without taking anything. “The first few months have been so wildly successful for them, they’ve decided to open another destination room.”

  JoAnna finished typing something and then rolled her chair out from behind the computer so we could have a better view of one another. “Why? They already have a tropical island room, a drive-in movie room, a Bat Cave room, and all those other wonderful spaces.”

  “They always planned on opening a few more if business was good. And I think Gina likes to decorate.”

  “So where are St. Louisans going to get pizza this time?”

  “I’ll tell you that in a second. But first, guess how they came up with the idea?”

  “Shouldn’t you tell me what the idea is before asking me to guess where it came from?” JoAnna asked.

  I ran my finger along the lip of her desk and tried to stay focused. It had been a battle the whole time I was in my meeting with Gina, but somehow, even during those moments when my thoughts had successfully strayed to Deidre…and Todd…and Cassie…and Grandpa Stu, Gina hadn’t seemed to notice. I was glad for that, of course, but, in hindsight, I was also a little surprised. Gina missed nothing. Ever.

  “Earth to Tobi, come in, Tobi…”

  I shook my focus back into the present and leaned back in my chair. “They had a contest. Every time a person would come into the restaurant, the hostess would ask if it was their first time. If they said no, she gave them a slip of paper and asked them to suggest a destination room they’d like to see added to the lineup.”

  “That’s clever.”

  “I know, right?” I fidgeted with a loose cushion thread next to my thigh and when I managed to free it, wrapped it around the tip of my finger. “Gina knew that if they’d already been there once, they liked it enough to come back. And she figured if they liked it enough to come back, they’d probably enjoy being a part of the decision proce
ss for the next few rooms.”

  JoAnna stink-eyed me until I unwrapped the thread and placed it in her outstretched palm. Then, and only then, did she re-engage in our conversation. “She’s a smart cookie, that one.”

  “She is, indeed. So…the room. It’s going to be a zoo.”

  “A zoo?” JoAnna cocked her head in thought. “How are they going to do that?”

  “Would you have imagined a drive-in movie theater and a tropical island for restaurant rooms?” I countered.

  “I see your point. But still, she can’t bring in animals.”

  “They’ll be stuffed…with the appropriate noises piped into each cage or enclosure. And the tables will be in with the animals. If you like lions, you’ll eat in a lion’s cage. If you like polar bears, you’ll eat in their space—which, in case you’re wondering, will require coats to eat in.” I stood, made another visual inspection of the contents of JoAnna’s candy jar and, once again, kept my hand to myself. “Gina did a much better job describing everything, and I took notes that I’ll consult when I work on the ads, but really, I’m not doing it justice right now. Just know that it’s going to be incredible.”

  “I have no doubt.” JoAnna’s chair creaked as she, too, stood. “So is this about that phone call you got just before your meeting with Gina or is it something else?”

  “This?”

  “You’ve looked at that candy jar twice and you’ve yet to dive in.”

  “I don’t just dive in. I always ask permission.”

  “While your hand is removing the lid.”

  I started to raise an objection but stopped when I knew it would be overruled before I even finished my sentence. “Okay, so there’s some truth in that, but if you actually said no, I’d stop. You know this, right?”

  JoAnna came around the desk and perched on its lip directly in front of the chair I’d abandoned. Then, grabbing hold of my hand, she guided me back to a seating position. “Of course I know that, Tobi. You don’t have to sell me on you. You know this, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Now that we’re on the same page with all of that, let’s get back to the main point in what I was saying—you never step away from candy. If you did, I’d only have to fill”—she hooked her thumb over her shoulder—“it once a month instead of once a week.”

  “Don’t you mean, once a day?”

  We both turned toward the doorway and the blond, green-eyed man that still made my heart flutter even after the nearly six months we’d been dating. “Andy!”

  JoAnna didn’t try to stop me as I stood and met Andy in the middle of the room, his arms encircling me with a strength and warmth I sorely needed at that moment. Why, I wasn’t entirely sure, but I knew I’d felt unsettled for much of the morning and now, well, I didn’t.

  “Hi, JoAnna,” he said over my shoulder.

  “Hi, yourself. Tobi bypassed my candy jar. Twice.”

  Andy released his hold on me, stepped back, and made a show of checking me for any signs of illness. I played along for the fever, ear, and throat check, but teed my hands when he started pushing on my stomach. “Okay, you two, enough. I’m just not in the mood for candy right now. Is that really so out of the ordinary?” I let the rhetorical question go in favor of a shrug. “Yeah, okay, don’t answer that. But really, I just have a lot on my mind right now. That’s all.”

  JoAnna pushed off the desk, raised her right hand in a salute, and then nodded at Andy. “She’s all yours, sir. As for me, I’m meeting an old friend for lunch at the Chinese place on the corner. I’ll be back in thirty, and I have my cell if you need me.”

  I waited as she collected her purse from behind her desk and then caught her cheek with a kiss as she passed me en route to the door. “Take an hour and enjoy your friend. I’m pretty sure I can handle things until you get back.”

  When she was gone, I pointed toward my office and, at Andy’s nod, led the way to my inner sanctum. “So to what do I owe this unexpected, yet very welcomed visit?”

  “It’s actually to whom, although, truth be told, I’d have made an excuse to stop by even without her.” He caught me, mid-step, and turned me around for another hug, this one culminating in the kind of kiss that made me wish it wasn’t twelve o’clock on a workday. Eventually, and with the kind of obvious reluctance that made a gal feel pretty special, he let me go and pulled a small envelope from his pocket. “Here. This is for you.”

  I looked down at the smattering of lilacs around the edges of the envelope and then back up at Andy. “Is this an invitation to a party or something?”

  “I don’t think so. You’ve never mentioned her having parties before.”

  “Her? Her who?” I asked, as I took the envelope and turned it over in my hands.

  “Ms. Rapple.”

  I laughed and, yep, despite all the progress I’d made in breaking myself of the habit, I snorted, too. “In order to have a party, one would have to have friends to invite. So yeah, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a party invitation.”

  “So then open it and see what it is.”

  “Translation: you’re curious.” I waved the envelope at him and then when he graced me with the sheepish nod I was after, I carried it around my desk, plucked out the letter opener JoAnna kept in my top drawer despite my propensity to rip things open, and sat down. “So how did you end up with this?”

  “Sam asked if I’d take him out to St. Charles today.”

  “Doesn’t he have school?”

  Andy took the chair across from mine and hiked his ankle across his opposite knee. “He said something about teacher workshops.”

  A memory flashed in my head and I snapped my fingers. “Yes, okay, I remember now. He’s got his photo job down for Callahan out in St. Charles today. I am just so proud of that kid, you know? He’s going places and he’s only sixteen.”

  “Anyway, I was only a block or two away when he called to tell me Callahan had sent a car for him.” Andy chuckled at the memory. “You should have heard him when he told me that, Tobi. I swear, he’s probably still pinching himself even now.”

  “Probably.”

  “Since I was almost here, anyway, I swung out to your house to say hey to Stu. But he wasn’t there.”

  I sat up tall. “He wasn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  Andy made a face at me. “I don’t know. He wasn’t there, remember?” Then, before I could come up with the next thing to say, he pointed at my hand. “And that’s when I saw Ms. Rapple and she asked me to give you that. Oh, and before you ask, she didn’t know where Stu was, either. Side note here, I’m pretty sure I saw her eyes well up when I asked.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

  “So, not wanting to leave her like that, I asked after Gertie. And that perked her up a little. Seems your favorite furry friend is showing signs of feeling better.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Stay with her.”

  Andy shrugged. “I know. But, honestly, I felt bad for her. I think she really cares about your grandfather. Like really cares.”

  A snarky thought regarding people with ice in their veins and their inability to care about anyone other than themselves rolled around on the tip of my tongue, but for whatever reason, I left it unspoken.

  Weird.

  “So? Are you going to open it?”

  “I guess. I mean, I can’t imagine why she’d want you to give this to me.” I slid the tip of the slicer beneath the seal, liberated the note from inside, and began to read aloud.

  Dear Tobi,

  They say that true friends reveal themselves in times of crisis and I believe that is true. From the moment you moved in below Carter, you’ve struck me as kind. You stop and talk to me when I’
m walking Gertie.

  I laughed (and snorted). “Ha! So leading Gertie over to my lawn to pee is considered walking in her book? This woman is too much.”

  Andy rolled his fingers in a keep going gesture and I obliged.

  You tolerate my penchant for nosiness, and even put up with me when I’m in a cranky mood, which probably seems like always to you, and sadly, you’re right. I love Gertie. But I’ve always longed for people to gravitate toward me the way Carter, Mary Fran, Sam, and everyone else does to you. Carter drives me nuts, as you well know, but I get why he calls you Sunshine. You’re like the sunshine every plant needs, even the temperamental ones like me.

  I drew back, silently reread the last few sentences, and then looked up at Andy. “You sure this came from Rapple?”

  Andy’s laugh accompanied my eyes back down to the note in my hand.

  When my mom died, I wanted to die, too. She was my mom, my confidante, my best friend, and my support system. But she wanted more for me and that’s why she made sure I had Gertie before she passed away.

  Gertie has helped, don’t get me wrong. She gives me someone to fuss over, to talk to, and to sleep beside, even when sleeping is made difficult by the late night comings and goings of you and your friends.

  I rolled my eyes, but kept reading.

  But as much as I love my precious Gertie, I miss that connection I had with my mom. I miss knowing that I wasn’t alone during difficult times, and that I matter to another person.

  You and Mary Fran have made me feel as if I matter these past few days. I know you covered the pet shop so Mary Fran could get Gertie and me to the vet. And when I called yesterday, you picked me up without a moment’s hesitation, even though it took you longer to reach me than it should have.