Tricia slid into the booth and shrugged out of her jacket. “Slow. I’ll be happy when the holidays finally arrive and business picks up.”
“I’ll be glad when they’re over and things slow down,” Angelica admitted.
Molly arrived to take their orders. “What can I get you ladies?”
“The soup of the day; a bowl, please.” Angelica turned her attention to Tricia. “It’s Tommy’s own recipe: potato and sausage.”
“It sounds rather heavy,” Tricia commented.
“But appropriate, given the raw November weather,” Angelica explained. “Have a bowl. It’s got enough protein to get you through until dinnertime, and you won’t need a sandwich.”
“Potato sausage soup it is,” Tricia agreed, and Molly nodded, heading for the kitchen.
“So, have you decided on what you’re going to do to win the Chamber election?” Angelica asked.
“I thought my strategy was to hand out the swag bags.”
“Have you got any left?”
“A few.”
“Then why don’t you visit some of the members who weren’t at the meeting?”
“Like who?”
“Nikki Brimfield-Smith.”
“Do you honestly think she’d vote for me over Russ?”
“She’d vote for anybody over Russ—that is, if she wants him to pay more attention to her and their son.”
“Good point,” Tricia admitted. “Who else?”
“Toni Bennett didn’t make it to the meeting.”
Toni owned and managed the local co-op that sold antiques and vintage items. Pixie was one of their best customers when it came to vintage clothing.
“Her husband, Jim, wasn’t there, either. Hit her and maybe she’ll talk to Jim. You can at least cajole her into attending next week’s special election meeting to cast her vote.”
“I suppose.”
“And it wouldn’t hurt for you to at least call every member—especially those outside the Main Street corridor. They have to believe you have their best interests at heart if they’re going to vote for you over Chauncey.”
“That’s a good idea,” Tricia agreed, but she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic at the prospect. She’d made hundreds of cold calls to potential donors during her days at the nonprofit corporation back in Manhattan, but she hadn’t enjoyed the task. Begging wasn’t really her style.
“Any other pieces of advice?”
Angelica shook her head. “Anybody with any brains can see that gutting the Chamber would be a mistake. Your biggest competition is Russ. As a centrist, he’s straddling the line. Saving money but keeping up appearances is enticing for business owners strapped for cash. And people like him a lot better than they like old crabby-butt Chauncey.”
That was true.
“That said,” Angelica uttered, and leaned forward, “word is that Chauncey’s already got Mary calling everyone on the Chamber list.”
“Really? From her expression this morning, I didn’t think she liked the idea of him being Chamber president.”
“Think about it. If she and he are a little iffy with their relationship, having him take on more responsibility—and being less available—might give her the perfect excuse to call off their engagement.”
“Mary’s not that devious.”
“She could be getting desperate. I heard she may actually be quite eager to give back the ring.”
“Who told you that? Frannie?”
“Who else knows everyone and everything that goes on in this village?”
Pixie was a close second, but she didn’t tell tales the way Frannie did.
“Did Mary confide in her?”
“No, but they go to the same manicurist. And that’s another thing, Chauncey thinks it’s a waste of time—and more importantly money—for women to get their hair and nails done. What a grump. I know he was kind to her when she broke her leg, but so were a lot of other people—ourselves included—and she didn’t promise to marry any of us.”
“Since I’m not looking for a spouse, that’s probably a good thing,” Tricia said as Molly approached with two steaming bowls of soup on a tray.
“Here you go,” she said, and set the bowls before them, leaving soup spoons and little packets of oyster crackers. “Eat hearty.”
“Thanks,” the sisters chorused.
They plunged their spoons into the soup and tasted it. Tricia swallowed, her eyes widening in delight. “Boy, is that good.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Angelica practically gloated as she picked up her crackers and tore open the cellophane. “Now, it just so happens I have a list of all the Chamber members’ names, addresses, and phone numbers.” She picked up an envelope from beside her on the seat and handed it to Tricia. “Your assignment is to—”
“I know, I know.”
“Those not at the meeting are highlighted in yellow.”
“Thank you,” Tricia said, not at all enthusiastic, and took another spoonful of her soup—the taste at least cheered her somewhat. “Any other orders?”
Angelica frowned. “Sell yourself. You are the best choice for Chamber president, and I’m not saying that just because you’re my sister. You have greatness in you that hasn’t yet been tapped. I have nothing but confidence in you.”
Nice as that was to hear, Tricia loathed the idea of actively campaigning for the job. And though reluctant as she was to fight for it, she agreed with Angelica. In her heart of hearts, she felt she was the right person for the job.
“Now let’s talk about something fun,” Angelica said, before taking in another spoonful of soup. “Me!”
Tricia smiled. It felt good that the sisters were back on an even keel.
But how long would that last?
TWELVE
Tricia parked her car in the side parking lot, got out, and opened her umbrella, holding it and her head up high as she approached the Antiques Emporium clutching a briefcase full of swag bags—these hastily made and without the box of chocolates. Owner Toni Bennett had resurrected the old Everett’s Grocery (once owned by Mr. Everett) and turned it into an antiques arcade with some thirty vendors. There was talk that she might revamp the building’s basement to accommodate even more dealers. It was a pleasure to see so many of the businesses in the village prosper.
On that gloomy day, there were few customers in the store, and instead it seemed to be filled mostly with vendors updating their booths for the upcoming holiday season. Tricia bypassed the booths and headed straight for the manager’s office, where she found Toni sitting behind her massive, somewhat shabby antique oak desk, staring intently at a spreadsheet plastered across her large computer screen. Tricia rapped on the doorjamb. “Hi, Toni. Have you got a minute?”
Toni looked up from her screen and smiled. “Tricia. It’s always a pleasure to see you. What’s up?”
Tricia was heartened by the greeting. She hadn’t seen Toni since the debacle at her party the Friday before and hoped Ted Harper’s untimely death would not become an item of conversation. “I noticed you weren’t at the Chamber meeting this morning.”
The pert brunette frowned. “I just couldn’t get going. But now that I’m primed with five cups of caffeine, I feel like I could jump over the building in a single bound.”
Tricia smiled. She liked Toni, who always seemed cheerful.
“Sit down,” Toni offered, and Tricia took the seat in front of her desk.
“In case you weren’t aware, I’m running for Chamber president.”
“I’m so sorry Angelica is leaving. She’s done a wonderful job.”
“Yes, she has. But if I’m elected, I intend to carry on her agenda.”
“I would love to change my brochure to say the Emporium is located in the prettiest village in New Hampshire,” Toni hinted.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your brochure.”
Toni pulled open one of her drawers, retrieved a full-color trifold sheet of heavy-duty stock, and handed it to Tricia. It was very profe
ssional-looking, and she said so.
“Thanks. They’re distributed throughout the state, and in Vermont, New York, and Massachusetts. Of course, we don’t see as many visitors from other states in the winter, thanks to the weather, but a lot of them are on our mailing list. We send out postcards a couple of times a year that can be turned in for a discount.”
“Things really seem to be hopping out there,” Tricia said, and nodded toward the showroom beyond the office.
“I don’t usually let the vendors restock their booths during business hours, but getting ready for the holidays takes so much longer than during the rest of the year, and things are slow this week.”
“Are the rumors true that you’ll be expanding in the future?”
Toni smiled. “Yes. Jim will soon start converting a good chunk of the basement to accommodate another twenty to twenty-five dealers. Of course, it won’t be open until closer to summer. It’s hard enough for the vendors to make their rent in the winter, but hopefully we’ll have another stupendous summer that will carry them through the doldrums.”
“That’s great. I’ve got a lot of ideas on how to further market the village, and I can’t wait to tell the members more about it once I’m elected.”
“Such as?” Toni asked.
“More advertising. Sponsored ads online. An expanded website.” Tricia reached for her briefcase. “To better let members know my platform, my assistant Pixie and I put together a small package.” She retrieved one of the last of the original bundles and handed it to Toni.
“How adorable. Are those chocolates?”
“Yes, from the Chocoholic in Nashua.”
“Oh, how I wish we had a decent candy shop here in Stoneham. The Coffee Bean has a small selection, but a dedicated shop could sell dozens of different-flavored fudge. Tourists love fudge—just like me—not to mention milk and dark chocolate bonbons,” she said, and laughed. “Every holiday could be an impetus for visitors to come to Stoneham.”
“It’s a great idea. Maybe we can recruit such a business.”
“I get the credit,” Toni quipped.
“If elected, I’ll make sure you do,” Tricia said, smiling.
Toni laughed. “Okay, then, you’ve got my vote—even without the chocolates.” She sobered and wrinkled her nose. “The truth is, I’m just not a fan of Chauncey Porter. He can be rather … terse.”
“Oh?”
Toni shook her head. “At your party the other night, he spoke rather disparagingly about you—which was especially galling when he was enjoying your hospitality.”
“Oh.” Yes, how rude.
“I thought it was terribly tacky of him. Poor Mary Fairchild was quite embarrassed. Jim and I steered clear of Chauncey after that.”
Since Toni had mentioned her chief competition, Tricia wrestled over mentioning that Russ Smith had also put in his name for Chamber president, but it didn’t seem right not to let Toni know.
“Chauncey is running, but so is Russ Smith.”
Toni’s eyes widened. “Really? That surprises me.”
“Oh?” Tricia asked, playing dumb.
“Everyone knows his wife keeps him on a tight leash. I’m surprised she’d allow it.”
“I don’t think I was the only one who was surprised when he raised his hand.”
“Did he or Chauncey hand out campaign literature?” Toni asked.
Tricia didn’t like the description, but she supposed that’s exactly what she’d just presented Toni with. “No, although Russ did hand out his business cards in case anyone wanted to call and talk to him about his ideas for the Chamber.”
Again, Toni opened her desk drawer, rummaged for a bit, and came up with a rather wrinkled card. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll give him a call.”
Tricia forced a smile. Had she just risked losing what was supposed to be a promised vote?
“I’d better let you get back to work. I still have a few more stops to make this afternoon.”
Toni rose to her feet. “It was great to see you, Tricia. Let me walk you out.”
Tricia gathered her umbrella, purse, and briefcase and stood, following Toni out and into the main showroom.
As they headed for the door, Tricia paused to take in a booth that was filled with some rather eclectic pieces of small furniture, most of it vintage or antique. “Oh, this is nice,” she said.
Toni stopped and turned, then moved to join Tricia.
Tricia stepped inside the booth, attracted to a marble-topped dresser. On it were an antique pitcher and ewer in brown transferware. “This is pretty.” She looked at the price tag. A little steep, but probably well worth the money.
“Yes. It’s an antique English washstand. I got to see pictures of the wreck it was before Frannie refinished it.”
Tricia straightened. “Frannie? Frannie Armstrong?”
“Yes, she’s one of my newest vendors.”
“I didn’t know she refinished furniture.”
“I guess it’s something she recently took up. She sure has a gift for it. She even restored the marble. It had a few really bad stains.”
“I’m so surprised. I had no idea she was into DIY.”
Toni laughed. “She said she needed a second income if she was ever going to get to retire to Hawaii.”
Yes, living in the fiftieth state was said to be quite expensive, since just about everything had to be shipped in. But that had been Frannie’s dream ever since Tricia had first met her. She eyed the washstand. It would fill the small empty space below the west window of her living room.
She wasn’t one to make impulse buys, but … “Do you deliver?”
“We can, but there is a surcharge,” Toni stated.
“That’s all right. Is it okay if I buy it now?”
“Of course. I’d be glad to personally ring up the sale for you.”
Toni removed the price tag and walked Tricia over to the cash register. She made arrangements for the stand to be delivered to Haven’t Got a Clue on Friday afternoon and handed Tricia her receipt.
“I’m so glad I stopped in today,” Tricia said.
Toni laughed. “I’ll bet Frannie will be ecstatic. It’s her biggest sale so far.”
Tricia smiled. “Okay. I’ll see your deliveryman on Friday.”
“And don’t be a stranger. There are lots of other wonderful items here that would look perfect in your new home.”
“I’ll bet,” Tricia said, and bade Toni good-bye.
As she walked to the parking lot, Tricia wondered why neither Frannie nor Angelica had told her about Frannie’s new hobby. She’d have to ask about it the next time she was in the Cookery.
Tricia returned to her car, consulted the list Angelica had given her, and sighed. Many of the newer members had joined the Chamber but were actually located in Milford and other surrounding towns. Perhaps she’d visit those far-flung members another day. There were three other members closer at hand, and she intended to cross them off the list before the end of the workday.
She started the car and again wished she could just take on the job instead of begging for votes. But she decided that when she arrived at her next destination, she’d freshen her lipstick and put on a smile. At least running for this job, she wouldn’t have to kiss any babies … except maybe Antonio and Ginny’s daughter, Sofia. She smiled. She never minded kissing and being kissed by that sweet girl. And with that thought, Tricia drove out of the parking lot with a much happier heart.
*
• • •
Tricia had once vowed to never again step inside Vamps, the little pornographic literature shop just outside the Stoneham village limits. But its owner, Marshall Cambridge, who usually attended the Chamber events, was one of the names Angelica had highlighted as members who hadn’t come to that day’s meeting. Tricia didn’t even bother bringing along her briefcase with the swag bags as she entered the shop. Thankfully, it was empty, but a buzzer sounding had alerted the owner that a live one had come through the door.
�
��Well, if it isn’t the Village Jinx,” Marshall called, and laughed, as he stepped through the beaded curtain that separated his shop from … she wasn’t quite sure.
Tricia cringed and wished she hadn’t bothered to stop in. She didn’t like Marshall. She thought of him as a smarmy character, although he was actually quite good-looking—albeit rather short, compared to her ex-husband. And no doubt Marshall would be perfectly happy if the village never sported another hanging basket of flowers, or if the Chamber held its meetings in a cold and drafty warehouse.
She forced a smile. It was beginning to feel like that was the only way she could muster some semblance of pleasure at greeting and talking to some of her less favorite fellow Chamber members. “Hello, Marshall.”
“I heard that instead of just finding a stiff, now you’ve killed someone off—and right in your own living room.”
Sometimes it was just plain painful living in a small village where everybody seemed to know everything about you—and rubbed it in, too.
“I didn’t kill him. The poor man died from an allergic reaction to something he ate.”
That was true enough, yet she had no intention of telling Marshall that poor Ted Harper had ingested a poisonous substance that had been added to her mushrooms.
Tricia barreled ahead. “I noticed you weren’t at the Chamber meeting this morning.”
“No, I had a dentist appointment. I figured it would just be campaign propaganda and thought I could skip it, although now that I know I need a new crown, it sure would have been cheaper to go there than visit the tooth quack.”
Tricia hoped he didn’t use that description when sitting in the dental chair. She decided to be honest. “I considered it a lost cause asking you to vote for me, but now that I’m here I should probably just report that Chauncey Porter is in the running with an austerity platform, and Russ Smith is running with a middle-of-the-road campaign.”
“And what’s your shtick?”
“To carry on my sister’s legacy—and pretty much do what she’s doing now.”
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