Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4)

by Sheila Connolly

  “Don’t worry about it, please. Yes, I’m Meg Corey—I live here, and I have an orchard up the hill, as you can see. I haven’t even been here two years myself. I’d ask you in for coffee or tea, but I’m guessing you want to get Lulu home again?”

  Patty smiled. “Yes, I do, and I need to figure out where she broke through the fence and if any of her pals followed her—I could be chasing alpacas all night.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “Fifteen at the moment. It’s a small herd by most standards—what they call a foundation herd. We’re pretty new at this, so we’re starting small, but we’ll be breeding them. We want to expand once we get the hang of it, and get some more of the pasture fenced in.”

  “Why alpacas, if you don’t mind my asking?” Meg said. Seth had said the woman was retired, but she looked strong enough to handle an alpaca.

  “Well, they’re not too big—Lulu here is full-grown—and they’re sociable, at least with each other. They can look after themselves. They’re pretty quiet, except they hum now and then. They don’t eat too much. And there’s a market for their wool. And I should warn you—they spit, mostly at each other, but sometimes at people. It can be kind of nasty.”

  “Got it. So if I see another alpaca wander by, I should call you?”

  “I’m the only herder around, as far as I know. Right, Seth?”

  “At least within town limits. You’re breaking new ground here, Patty.”

  “Beats wrangling government regulations—I had my fill of that.” Patty turned to Meg. “Can I get a rain check on that coffee? I’d like to get to know my neighbors.”

  “Sure. My harvest is almost over, and now all I have to worry about is planning our wedding, which is less than a month away. Right, Seth?”

  “You’ve got it.” Seth smiled. Meg smiled back.

  “Then I guess congratulations are in order. Look, I’d better get Lulu back and hope she doesn’t tell all her herd buddies how much fun it is out here. Thanks for snagging her. See you later, I hope.” Patty strode off to her car, carefully maneuvered the trailer behind until she was pointed toward the road, then pulled away. Meg and Seth watched them go.

  “Well, that was fun,” Meg said when they were out of sight. “Is it just me, or is an alpaca a supremely silly-looking creature?”

  “What, you’re judging solely on appearance?” Seth exclaimed in mock horror. “As Patty informed us, they’re fairly nice animals. You’ve been lucky with Dorcas and Isabel, right?”

  “I have, although I don’t think goats and alpacas are related. But I stand corrected: I will reserve judgment about the nature of alpacas, especially since I now have to live with them as neighbors. Can we go inside now? I’m freezing.”

  “Shoot, I was hoping to get something done this afternoon. Never does seem to work out that way, does it?”

  “Not often enough. But the alpaca invasion was not my fault. If anything, it’s yours. Doesn’t Granford have a fence-walker or something?”

  “Not for the past couple of centuries. I vote for coffee—I think you’re turning blue.”

  “Not my best color,” Meg said, leading the way into the kitchen. Once inside, she shucked off her coat and set about boiling water. “Would you rather have tea?” she asked Seth.

  “Coffee’s good. Where’s Bree?”

  “Still up the hill, I think. But we’re down to the last couple of varieties. Maybe she’s hiding out just to avoid the paperwork. She owes me the year-end summary, or at least an estimate. Maybe it’s bad news and she doesn’t want to know.”

  “I can sympathize—I hate the paperwork part of my business, but if I don’t send invoices, I don’t get paid. Where are we on . . . well, everything else?”

  “East of nowhere, I’m afraid.” Meg poured water over coffee grounds. “We’ve asked Christopher to officiate, but I don’t know if he’s done anything about getting the special license, and I’m not sure how long that takes.” Christopher was a professor at the nearby University of Massachusetts campus and had managed the orchard, mainly as a teaching tool, before she had showed up and decided to take it on. And he’d recommended Bree, for which she would be forever grateful to him. “I told Nicky and Brian to hold the date at the restaurant, but we haven’t talked about food or drink or even set the time. You and I need to get our own paperwork in order, for the state. Have you decided what to do about a best man?”

  “I figure it’s got to be Art.”

  Meg filled two mugs with coffee and brought them to the kitchen table. She sat down with a sigh of relief. “That’s fine with me, although of course it’s your choice. And if anything goes wrong, we’ll have the law on hand to handle it.”

  “Heaven forbid. What about you?” Seth asked.

  “Maid of honor? Or matron? Normally I’d ask Rachel, but either she’ll be about to pop with the baby or she’ll be exhausted from dealing with a newborn. Of course, she and her family are invited, but I’ll leave it up to her to decide whether she can face coming and how long to stay. So that kind of leaves Gail, who’s the best friend I’ve got around here. Do you know, I’ve probably spent more time with her than almost anyone else in Granford. Except you, of course. But I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “I like Gail. See? We’ve made a pair of decisions already: Art and Gail. You know, it’s a wonder we ever managed to get invitations sent out.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Meg said fervently. “I cringe every time I go into town, worrying that I forgot to invite someone. But the restaurant holds only so many people safely. Anyway, it’s your fault—you grew up here, and you know everybody in town. I think my own list had about ten names on it.”

  “They’ll understand, I’m sure. If it turns out that the other half of the population of Granford is miffed at us, then we’ll just have to throw another party. Maybe a solstice party.”

  “You can plan that one,” Meg said. “But I guess we’re making progress. I’ve alerted my parents, but we haven’t pinned down when they’re going to arrive. I’d really rather they didn’t stay here. Oh, and we need rings, don’t we? And I have no idea what I’m wearing.”

  “About them staying here,” Seth began slowly.

  “You don’t want them to? Or you do?” Meg protested before he could finish. She wasn’t sure which answer she wanted to hear.

  “No, I’m happy to have them. But I’m guessing that one reason you don’t want to put them up is because of the bathroom situation.”

  “You’d be right. The one bath is barely adequate for the three of us, and I can’t imagine adding two more people to the mix. Why do you bring that up?”

  “I’ve been thinking . . . I want to give you something special as a wedding present, and I thought maybe an overhaul of the plumbing of this place would be good. Are you horrified?” Seth looked uncharacteristically uncertain.

  Meg was momentarily speechless, and then she burst out laughing. “I love it! Nothing says true love like plumbing.” Seth looked bewildered, as if unsure of what she was saying, so she took pity on him. “Seriously, Seth, I think it’s a terrific idea. What did you have in mind?” And when will you find the time? Meg added to herself.

  “I was thinking that I could carve out a smaller bath from that niche in the master bedroom—shower only—without taking anything away from the main bathroom. Although all the pipes there definitely need to be replaced. And if I’m going to have things opened up anyway, I thought I could add a powder room directly beneath it at the same time.”

  “That would be amazing, Seth,” Meg said, and meant it. “But we will have one functional bathroom throughout the whole construction process, right?”

  “Of course. And everything that shows will be historically accurate, at least on the surface. I figured you’d want some say in picking out the fixtures. Whenever you have the time.”

  “I love the way you think, Seth Chapin. I think it’s a brilliant idea. And I have no idea how I’m going to match it.”

  He
smiled, clearly pleased by the success of his suggestion. “Don’t worry about it. This is kind of a shared gift anyway—I’ll be happy not to have to fight either you or Bree for time at the mirror while I’m trying to shave.”

  “I haven’t dared ask Bree what she wants to do about living arrangements. I’m sure she’d rather not intrude on our newlywed bliss, but I can’t afford to pay her enough to rent someplace nearby. Or at least, I don’t think I can. I won’t know until after she’s run the numbers for our sales and expenses. Are we really supposed to figure all this out in a couple of weeks? Oh, and by the way, are we planning a honeymoon?”

  Seth looked stricken. “Do you want one?” he said anxiously.

  Meg burst out laughing at the look on his face. “If you could see yourself! Sure, you know me—I’m pining for a week in the Bahamas, with well-oiled pool boys bringing me endless fruity drinks with umbrellas in them.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be marrying a plumber,” Seth responded.

  “Excuse me, a specialist in period home renovations with a growing client list,” Meg corrected him. “And don’t worry about it. The idea of sitting here and catching up on the last six months’ worth of . . . well, just about everything, sounds like perfection to me.”

  “Amen,” Seth said. “Although maybe we could try a restaurant or two.”

  “Or a weekend in Boston?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, woman!” he said in mock anger. Then his tone softened. “Happy?”

  Meg smiled. “I am. Very. It will all work out.”

  2

  Meg’s cell phone rang as they were finishing their coffee. She fished it out of her pocket to see the restaurant’s number. “Hey, Nicky or Brian. What’s up?”

  “It’s Nicky. Things are quiet at the moment, and we wondered if you wanted to come over and discuss wedding plans now?”

  Meg checked her watch: just past three. “Sounds great—Seth and I were just talking about all the planning we still have to do. You want him there?” She looked up to see Seth shaking his head vigorously. “Or maybe we should rough out something and I can show it to him.”

  “Either way is fine. So we’ll see you in a few?”

  “I’ll be there.” Meg hung up and turned to Seth. “What, you don’t want to talk about menus?”

  “I trust you. And I eat just about anything, as you know. Just include something for the vegetarians and vegans and we’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t have to have carrot cake, do I? Because there’s a lot about traditional weddings that I won’t miss, but I want an indulgent, over-the-top cake.”

  “I’m not going to argue.” Seth stood up. “Well, those invoices are calling my name. See you at dinner. Don’t go too crazy—but I haven’t had a bad dish at Gran’s since it opened.”

  “I’ll try to control myself, and I’ll listen to Nicky’s ideas. I agree—she’s a great chef, and we’re lucky to have her in town. Happy invoicing!”

  “Yeah, right,” Seth muttered as he went out the back door.

  Meg was beginning to understand why people eloped: it was so simple. She had never been all that interested in weddings, and the few friends she’d kept in touch with from her pre-Granford days seemed to be avoiding marriage altogether, although most of them had a partner of some description. Meg had considered the idea of living with Seth—briefly—but rejected it. The reality was, Seth was spending about ninety percent of his time at her house, but that was not the same as standing up and declaring your intentions to spend your life together in front of your friends and your community. She and Seth hadn’t explored the concept in much detail—after all, he’d been married once before, and that hadn’t worked out. He was surprisingly unbitter about the end of that relationship, and would only go so far as to say that he and Nancy had discovered that they wanted different things from their lives, and had parted on reasonably good terms. But he wanted the public declaration of their joining now, maybe more than she did.

  In an odd way, Meg felt like she was marrying the town by marrying Seth. His Chapin ancestors had helped to settle the town of Granford over two centuries earlier. Of course, her Warrens hadn’t been far behind, but Meg hadn’t grown up in the town, the way Seth had. But Seth didn’t just live in Granford—he helped run the place, as an elected selectman, which was an unpaid and occasionally thankless task.

  But she’d never pored over Brides magazines, never oohed and aahed about dresses and table decorations. She hadn’t talked any of this over with her mother, Elizabeth, but she had a sneaking feeling that Elizabeth was simply happy to see her getting married at all. Seth’s mother, Lydia, who lived just over the hill, was equally laid-back about the whole thing. So it was up to Meg to make the myriad of decisions about what and where and how this was going to happen. She realized that in her mind she visualized one large happy party that happened to include a small element that would make Seth and her a legal entity in the eyes of the state and country. Whatever that meant. With a sigh, she stood up, pulled on her jacket, and went out to her car to drive the couple of miles to the restaurant.

  The sight of Gran’s, housed in a sturdy Victorian building perched on a low hill at the end of the town green, never failed to cheer her up. Meg was proud that she had played a role in creating it—not the cooking, that Nicky handled brilliantly, but by figuring out a way to make it financially possible in a highly competitive area by involving local providers as partners. It had worked well, and the restaurant had been open a year now. It was even drawing visitors from the surrounding college-based communities like Amherst and Northampton, and that was high praise indeed from the local foodie community. She parked beside the building and walked up the front steps. Nicky opened the front door before Meg reached it.

  “Welcome, blushing bride!” Nicky said, throwing her arms around Meg. “I’m so glad you chose us for this wonderful event.”

  Apparently Nicky was more excited about the wedding than she was. “The blushing part I’ve got down pat—it’s the ‘bride’ part that still boggles me.”

  “Ha! You and Seth are made for each other. Any dummy could see that.”

  “Considering that I started my career in Granford with a murder in my backyard and by creating chaos at a town meeting, that’s a small miracle. How’ve you been, Nicky? How’s business?”

  “Great, to both. Come in, sit down. I made some nibbles for us—this planning stuff is hungry work.”

  Meg complied. “Will Brian be joining us?”

  “Nah. I’ll tell him what the plan is, and he’ll make it happen. Besides, he thinks this is girly stuff.”

  Meg smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Seth feels the same way. He’s more or less said, ‘whatever you want.’”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “I want a party where people have a good time.”

  Nicky eyed her. “Oh, sure, no problem. We’ll just order up a bunch of good-time supplies. Okay, let’s start with the basics. The date is December fourth—that’s a Friday. Why not Saturday or Sunday?”

  “It was my grandmother’s birthday, and she was one of my favorite people. I see it as kind of an easygoing event, after work for some people. I haven’t invited a lot of people from out of town, so it will be mostly the people Seth and I know around here.”

  “Well, since we’re talking about Seth, that’s the entire town. How did you narrow down the list?”

  “It wasn’t easy, believe me. I’m sure somebody’s feelings will be hurt. Or I’ll just blame it on you and Brian and those pesky fire regulations.”

  Nicky grinned. “Okay, I’ll take the heat. And I wouldn’t expect Seth to bend the rules about capacity, even for his own wedding.”

  “Don’t forget that the entire select board of Granford and the chief of police will be here too,” Meg added.

  “Exactly. We can’t just stuff people in willy-nilly. The place might collapse. How’re the RSVPs going?”

  “About fifty percent so far,” Meg
told her. “Not too many ‘nos’ either.”

  “Of course there aren’t,” Nicky replied quickly. “People have been betting on when you two would figure things out for the past year—they wouldn’t miss it.” Nicky got a faraway look in her eye. “Of course, we might be able to enclose the porch with removable panels and some portable heaters—that would give you some more capacity. But we’d have to be sure the porch can take the weight. I’ll have to ask Brian about that.” Nicky made a note on the pad of paper she had brought to the table. “Okay, next. Sit-down or buffet?”

  “Shoot, I don’t want a formal thing with fancy tablecloths and six forks and three-foot centerpieces on the tables. Buffet is fine. And no assigned seating—let people sit where they want and with whoever they want.”

  “Open bar? Champagne only?”

  Meg sighed. “Rough me out some numbers on that, will you?” She knew that an open bar could get expensive, but it seemed stingy to offer guests only one option for liquid refreshment, and cash bars were kind of tacky for a personal event.

  “What kind of food?” Nicky was as relentless as a drill sergeant.

  “Buffet food?” Meg ventured.

  “Hot or cold?” Nicky snapped.

  Meg held up a hand. “Nicky, I love your food. Why don’t you suggest a menu? And since this will be in December, I guess there had better be some hot food in there somewhere. But not too drippy.”

  “Got it.” Nicky made another note. “I’ll email you some choices. Decorations?”

  “Well, it’s after Thanksgiving, but I don’t want a Christmas theme. Greenery?”