“If we’re lucky, a couple of weeks. If not …” His eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Do you need a hug?” Pixie asked shyly, knowing that Mr. Everett was not fond of emotional scenes, but surprisingly enough, he nodded.
Then Pixie and Tricia were right at his side, their arms wrapped around him, and they all had a good cry. Tricia was glad she kept a box of tissues on the big coffee table, because they all needed more than one once the group hug dissolved.
“You’ve done a wonderful thing, Mr. Everett. You took in poor old Charlie from the shelter and gave him a loving home, making his last days on earth perhaps his happiest. I applaud you for your bravery.”
“Bravery?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Pixie agreed. “You knew you’d only have the little guy for a short time, and that it would be hard to lose him, but you and Grace did it anyway. If I had a medal, I’d pin it on your sweater—for both of you.”
“I would, too,” Tricia agreed.
Miss Marple seemed to appear from out of nowhere and jumped on Mr. Everett’s lap, nuzzling his chin and purring loudly. Mr. Everett petted her and she turned around twice before settling onto his lap.
“Why don’t we all have a cupcake? That might cheer us up, if only for a few minutes,” Pixie suggested.
“Yes,” Tricia agreed, glad for a change of subject. “I thought we could celebrate the wonderful video you made yesterday.”
“Do you want me to send it out right now?” she asked.
Tricia shook her head. “Why don’t we enjoy our cupcakes and coffee, and if no customers come in for a while, we could look through your scrapbook. I missed so much of the party, I’d love to catch up.”
Pixie gave a shy smile. “This is just the bridal shower scrapbook. I coulda brought the wedding ones, but figured this was enough for today.”
She had more than one for the wedding?
“You get it out, and I’ll get the cupcakes and napkins,” Tricia said.
Moments later, they had peeled the paper wrappers from their cupcakes and enjoyed them before wiping their hands and carefully handling Pixie’s pride and joy. It was pleasant to think about a happier time, and even Mr. Everett smiled at the costumes and the cake and the apparent fun that Tricia and he had missed.
But Tricia couldn’t help watching as Mr. Everett paged through the book, sitting rather awkwardly so as not to disturb Miss Marple. For years he hadn’t allowed himself to own a pet for fear of losing it, and now that he had brought Charlie into his life, and obviously loved him, he would soon be without him.
She couldn’t help feeling sorry for both of them and the wasted years.
*
• • •
It wasn’t a customer who opened the door accompanied by the jingling of a bell overhead and interrupted their little coffee klatch, but the mailman.
“Hi, Randy. I hope you brought more than bills,” Pixie said, rising from her chair and without her usual enthusiasm.
“Don’t kill the messenger,” he said, and handed her the small stack of envelopes. “See you tomorrow.”
“We’ll be here,” Pixie said.
She took her seat again and handed the pile to Tricia, who didn’t bother to look at it.
“I’m so impressed with that scrapbook, Pixie. I wonder if you’d be willing to put something together that shows our author signings. I’d be more than happy to pay for everything you need, and it would be a showpiece we could share with our customers who aren’t able to come in for the events.”
“Sure. That’d be fun to put together.”
“And, of course, I wouldn’t expect you to do it on your own time. Maybe you could do it in January when things are slow.”
“I’d love to.”
That was, of course, if Angelica didn’t recruit her for Nigela Ricita Associates before that.
Miss Marple chose that moment to jump down from Mr. Everett’s lap. “I’d best get my lamb’s wool duster and attack those shelves in the back. The forced air from the heat register leaves them terribly dusty. But perhaps first I should go down to the basement and change the furnace filter.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“It would be my pleasure, Ms. Miles,” he said, and it would probably also be good for him to have something else to do to keep his mind off Charlie for just a little while.
“Thank you.”
Pixie packed up her scrapbook and replaced it in the bag. “I’ll go put this in the back so it doesn’t get damaged.”
Tricia nodded and turned her attention to the pile of envelopes still in her hand. As she shuffled through them, she saw that one had been delivered in error. It was addressed to Mary Fairchild at the By Hook or By Book shop. Holding it up to the light, she saw that it seemed to contain a check.
“Oh, my. This is for Mary down the block. It looks important. I think I’ll pop on down the way and give it to her. I wouldn’t want it to get lost.”
She once again donned her cloak and left her shop in Pixie’s capable hands.
The temperature hadn’t risen a degree since her earlier foray outside, and the wind was just as stiff, messing up her hair despite the felt hat she wore.
By Hook or By Book was just as devoid of customers as Haven’t Got a Clue, but Mary was already occupied on the phone, with her back to the door. She covered the receiver, but didn’t turn. “Be with you in a moment,” she called, and went back to her conversation.
“No, I’m telling you, she jinxed me!”
Tricia felt her cheeks color. There was only one person in the village who bore that reputation: herself!
“Yes, she told me to ‘break a leg,’ and gosh darn it—the very same day I did break my leg. Yes, she’s got that kind of power, and if she used it for ill once—she’s bound to do it again.”
Tricia cleared her throat, but Mary just waved a hand in annoyance.
“No, and that’s why you’ve got to vote for Chauncey tomorrow at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. It’s for the good of the entire organization, not to mention the entire village.” She paused. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes. Thank you. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-bye.” And she hung up the phone. Then she turned—and her mouth dropped open.
Mary gave a feeble laugh. “Hi, Tricia. I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“Obviously,” Tricia managed, barely able to keep the fury from her voice.
Mary laughed again, but looked like she might also be sick. “Hee-hee. I was having a little fun with … with one of the …”
“Chamber members?”
Mary’s blush was fever-bright. “I’ve got a perfectly good explanation,” she said defensively.
“Oh?”
“Yes, you see …” She let out a breath and frowned. “No, I don’t, and I should level with you. I don’t blame you for my broken leg. That maniac who plowed into me with his scooter was totally responsible—not you.”
Tricia well remembered—she’d been only one of hundreds of witnesses to the assault. “That wasn’t how it sounded just now.”
Mary’s expression seemed to crumple, and she looked like she might cry. “I have to break it off with Chauncey.”
“And bad-mouthing me will help you do that?”
“Of course not. But I need an excuse, and … if he wins the Chamber presidency, he’ll be too busy to juggle his shop, the Chamber, and a marriage.”
“Mary, just hand him the ring, say, ‘Sorry, it’s over,’ and walk away.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t know Chauncey like I do.”
Oh, yes she did. From past events she knew exactly what Chauncey was capable of—including battery.
“What do you think would happen if you broke it off?”
“What happened to you when you and Russ Smith called it quits—and I don’t want to be stalked. It’s bad enough his shop is directly across the street from mine. I’ve even thought about relocating my store when the lease runs out next year. But in the mean
time, I know he watches me like a hawk. He doesn’t like me talking to other people, or even my own family members.”
“Those are all red flags for domestic violence,” Tricia pointed out.
“And don’t I know it. That’s why I need to ease myself out of this relationship. He’s been pressuring me to get married, and it’s just not going to happen.”
“Have you thought about going to couples counseling?”
“I have. I’ve suggested it a number of times, but he won’t hear of it. The truth is—I’m scared of him, Tricia. I don’t know what he’s liable to do to me if I flat out say we’re through.”
Tricia’s emotions had run the gamut of anger to sympathy in less than five minutes.
“There are organizations that help battered women.”
“Yeah, and he hasn’t lifted a hand to me.”
“Yet,” Tricia pointed out. “Their mission is to help abused women. It couldn’t hurt to contact one of them.”
Mary merely shrugged, looking trapped.
“I’m sorry, Mary. I do feel sorry for you, but it isn’t fair for you to paint me as the villain here. I didn’t hurt you, and what you’re telling people could be considered slander. I have to live in this village—whether I get the job of Chamber president or not. I understand you have problems, and I’m sorry I can’t help fix them, but you can’t go around telling people lies about me.”
“I’m sorry,” Mary said contritely. “I promise, I won’t do it again.”
Would she instead make up something about Russ?
“Why did you come here, anyway?” Mary asked.
Tricia had almost forgotten. “Randy delivered an envelope to my shop instead of yours. I thought it might be important and came down as soon as I discovered it.” She handed the envelope to Mary.
Mary’s face lit up. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this. It’s the check from the cruise line’s insurance company. This could help me escape from Chauncey. Please don’t tell him it’s arrived—he’s been hounding me about it ever since I told him about the settlement.”
“I definitely wouldn’t say a word to anyone.” Except Angelica, who was famous for keeping secrets. “You should cash it immediately and put it in an account that Chauncey can’t touch.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a contingency plan for this money.” Was she planning on leaving the village and abandoning her shop? Tricia wasn’t sure she cared to know.
There didn’t seem to be anything more to say … except—“Will you be at the Chamber meeting tomorrow?”
“You better believe it. And I’ll be casting my vote for Chauncey—and if you’re any kind of a friend, you will, too.”
“Mary!”
“If things were different, I’d vote for you in a heartbeat, but in this instance, it’s self-preservation.”
Tricia guessed she could understand that, but she also hoped that when Mary could think clearly, she would realize how outrageous her request really was.
“I’d better get going. I have a shop to run.”
“Thanks for bringing the check. And I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the meeting.”
“Good-bye,” Tricia said, civilly, if nothing else.
She left the shop and headed back up Main Street, wondering what else could go wrong that day.
TWENTY-FIVE
Pixie was waiting behind the sales counter ready to pounce when Tricia walked through the shop door. “Are you ready to send out that e-mail?”
It took Tricia a moment to remember that Pixie was referring to the video she’d created the day before. “Oh, yes. Let’s send it out now. Mr. Everett, would you mind the shop while Pixie and I use the computer in the basement office?”
“Not a bit,” he said affably.
There was a joyful bounce to Pixie’s step as she preceded Tricia down the steps to the basement, turning on the lights as she went. “Is the computer on?”
“Yes. And I’ve written the e-mail and saved it to the draft folder. I split the list of Chamber members into four sections so it wouldn’t be considered spam. All we have to do now is attach the video, and they’re good to go.”
“Let’s watch it one more time. I wouldn’t want you to have sender’s remorse if it went without one last tweak.”
The truth was, Tricia had watched the video three times that morning, but couldn’t think of any changes she’d like to make.
Pixie read through the e-mail to make sure there were no typos, and then crossed her fingers as Tricia hit the send button.
“Well, it’s off into the big, wide world!” Pixie said excitedly.
Yes it was, and just like Pixie had predicted, Tricia immediately wished she could hit unsend. What was she thinking, sending out such a promotional message? Didn’t it just prove how needy she was? Would she look too ambitious? A lot of men were threatened by ambitious, capable women. Would she be accused of tooting her own horn—and way too loudly?
Then she thought again. If a man had sent it, everyone would think he was great at marketing, and smart to take advantage of whatever technology had to offer to get his message across to win the election.
It wasn’t a bit fair that women weren’t held to the same standard—and in just about every aspect of life.
“Do you want to hang around to see if you get any comments?” Pixie asked.
“I think I’ll wait awhile for that in case some of the members aren’t happy with the reminder to vote.” And for me, she thought to herself.
Pixie nodded. “Then I guess we’d better head upstairs. Isn’t today the day when the bus of pre-Christmas shoppers comes in from Portland?”
“Yes,” Tricia said, and it had been much anticipated by the Main Street business owners.
“We should have put up our decorations,” Pixie hinted, not for the first time. “Why don’t we do that later?”
“We can plan it today and perhaps put them up tomorrow after the Chamber meeting.”
“But you’ll have too much to do tomorrow, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t start the job until the first of the year, and I pretty much know everything there is to know about it. And if I don’t, I can always bend Angelica’s ears.”
“Great. I can’t wait to start decorating. The holidays are my absolute favorite time of year.”
“Do you have a scrapbook for that?”
Pixie’s smile faded. “I haven’t actually had a lot of happy Christmases,” she admitted, “but I’m sure that’s going to change this year now that Fred and I are married. I can’t wait to put up our tree. I might even do it this weekend to get a jump on the season.”
Tricia wasn’t nearly that eager. But maybe she’d put a tabletop tree on the new washstand—if she could figure out a way to keep Miss Marple off it.
In the meantime, she needed to get ready for that busload of shoppers and hope they liked vintage mysteries.
*
• • •
By the time Tricia and Pixie made it back up the stairs to the shop, the phone was already ringing. Mr. Everett answered it. “Why, yes, she’s right here; just a moment.” He handed the phone to Tricia.
“This is Tricia; how can I—?”
“Tricia? It’s Joyce over at Have a Heart romance. I just got your e-mail and I think it’s absolutely darling.”
“Thank you, Joyce.”
“I just wanted to let you know that you’ve got my vote, and I can’t wait to see where you take the Chamber.”
As she hung up the phone, Tricia’s smile couldn’t have been wider.
The next call was from Jason Evanston, who owned the tire store down near the highway. He wasn’t quite as complimentary, and Tricia had to hold the phone away from her ear during his tirade.
“I don’t think I need to take any more calls for a while,” she announced after she’d hung up.
“Talk about a poor sport,” Pixie muttered, but she took the lead when it came to answering the rest of the calls—and there were only six more—telling
each person she’d pass along the message. And she did—for four of the calls. Tricia didn’t ask about the others.
The bus dutifully arrived at about eleven o’clock, and it almost felt like the summer tourist season once again. The riders had three hours to kill in the village, and they spread out among the shops and eateries. Tricia and Pixie held the fort while Mr. Everett went to lunch, and then Tricia and Mr. Everett took care of the customers when it was Pixie’s turn. The hours went quickly with so many eager shoppers browsing through the merchandise, and Tricia was happy to note that they would have to restock some of the shelves later.
The bus was just about to take off on its return trip when Tricia exited Haven’t Got a Clue and headed over to Booked for Lunch to meet Angelica.
Once again, Angelica was seated at the back booth, and Molly was hard at work busing the tables, which had obviously been quickly vacated.
“What a day,” Tricia said as she removed her cloak and settled in across the table from her sister.
“Almost as good as summer.”
“I’ll say,” Molly chimed in. “If this keeps up through the holiday season, I’ll be able to buy presents for all my kids and grandkids.”
“It will,” Angelica assured her. “Can I have a warm-up when you’ve got a minute?” she asked, proffering her nearly empty cup.
“Sure thing,” Molly said. “Can I get you a cup, too, Tricia?”
“Yes, please.”
She continued to clear off the tables, and Angelica leaned forward. “So, what’s the skinny on your e-mail? Did you get any feedback?”
“Yes. Some people like it, and some don’t.”
“That was to be expected,” Angelica said realistically.
“Yes, but the positives do seem to outweigh the negatives.”
Angelica’s expression sobered even more. “I meant what I said the other night. I’d really like to offer Pixie a better job than just salesperson. She’s sharp, and she’s dedicated, and I know you wouldn’t want to stand in her way when it comes to a career opportunity.”
Tricia felt like she’d been punched in the gut.
“She wouldn’t have to interview until January—you need her for the holidays—but the winter months are so slow it would benefit your bottom line if you shed one paycheck. Besides, you and Mr. Everett could handle everything alone. You did it before Pixie came to work for you.”
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