“Talk, at the moment.” I told her about Krista’s message. “I replied asking her if she was free to talk later today, and I gave her my number.” I sighed. “I feel horrible about her comment that she didn’t think her mom had any work friends. You’re her friend, aren’t you?”
“Eh.” Connie grimaced. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends like you and I are. When Trish took over as building manager, Melba Meacham told her I’d been here the longest and to come to me with any questions she might have. She didn’t have many, but she did come to me to get the lowdown on the other merchants.”
I didn’t dare ask about the lowdown on me. “I’m hesitant to ask anyone else about helping pay for Krista’s ticket home.”
“Don’t be,” Connie said. “Simply tell everyone what you’re doing and ask if they’d like to contribute. If not, it’s no big deal.”
“I’m also going to get something to wrap for Ms. Oakes as well—maybe a ‘home for the holidays’ ornament.” I smiled. “Whether the others contribute or not, I’m excited about bringing Krista home for a visit. It would be nice, though, if we could say her visit is a gift from all of us because it would show her that we all do care about her mother.”
“Well, don’t forget, I told you when you came up with the idea that I’m in.”
“Thanks, Connie. Now to figure out how to bring up the subject to the other merchants without Ms. Oakes finding out what I’m up to.”
“Let me think on that for a little bit.” She adjusted some bottles on the shelf. “I’ll be over to chat when I have an idea.”
When I returned to Designs on You, Max was sitting on my desk swinging her legs. “That old battle axe could have a lot of friends if she’d be nice to people. Would her face crack if she’d smile?”
“It didn’t this morning when she smiled at Grandpa.”
“Nah, that didn’t count. I’m guessing it wasn’t a sincere smile—that was a smile of desperation. Insincere smiles don’t fool anyone. Me, in particular.”
“Have you heard from Zoe?” I asked.
“No, but I’m not worried. Who knows when the kid got to sleep last night…or this morning? I’d imagine she’s still nestled under her covers.” She gave me a wistful grin. “I used to adore snuggling under mine. I always had a big pile of blankets over me. It’s funny the things you miss.”
Max had disappeared for some rest and I was cutting out Marsha Billings’ dress when Grandpa brought an attractive, auburn-haired, sixty-something woman into the shop.
“Hi, Pup,” he said, as he closed the door behind them. “This is Monica Miller, my appraiser friend.”
Monica was well dressed in navy slacks, a white sweater, and a navy-print scarf. She looked at some of the garments I had hanging in the workroom but was careful not to touch them.
“Monica, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “Would you like to go into the main area and see the clothes?”
“I’d love to.”
As I led Monica into the retail portion of the shop, I wondered why Grandpa had brought her here. Even though we were in hot water with Maggie, I knew the auction was still going forward on Dwight’s behalf. Was Monica here to talk with Grandpa and me about the contents of the strongbox?
Monica immediately went to a dress I had on the mannequin. It was a bias-cut, 1930s-style black satin dress with puff sleeves.
She let out a low whistle. “This is incredible. After I make my commission on the collectibles I’m selling for Mr. Hall, I’m going to have to buy this gown.”
“So…um…how is that going?” I ventured a glance at Grandpa, who was playing with Jazzy and not paying any attention to me. I couldn’t tell if his distraction was contrived or not.
“It’s going well,” Monica said. “May I try this on?”
“Of course. That dress is from the ready-to-wear line, so it’s available in several sizes. If you’ll come right this way, we can get one in your size.”
“Fantastic.” Monica encompassed Grandpa and me in her smile, but Grandpa was still absorbed with Jazzy.
Not that he didn’t love the cat, but I had the distinct feeling he was faking going overboard with the playtime. What wasn’t he telling me? While Monica was trying on the dress, I intended to find out.
“What’s going on with you?” I whispered to him.
“Just playing with little Jasmine here.”
I tightened my lips and widened my eyes. “Grandpa…”
“Fine.” He lowered his voice. “I kind of like Monica.”
“I thought that was obvious. If you didn’t like her, you wouldn’t have trusted Max’s collectibles to her.”
“I mean, since I’ve been spending a little time with her, I’m thinking I might like like her. But I don’t want to blow it by asking her out and then maybe not liking her as much as I’d hoped when I might be seeing her more often.”
“Might be seeing her more often?”
Before I could get clarification on that, Monica came out in the black dress. She looked fabulous.
“Wow.” Grandpa said the word under his breath, but she heard him. And she liked that he’d noticed.
“You think it would be a good investment then, Dave?” she asked.
“I believe it would be an excellent investment.”
She laughed. “Then why wait for a commission? I’ll take it now. Let me go get changed, and we’ll head on upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” I echoed.
“Yes. Didn’t Dave tell you? I’m here to look at the vacant space,” she said. “I have quite a few collectibles of my own, and I’d like to have a more formal setup for meeting with clients than what I have now—meeting them in a quiet corner of the public library.”
“Now I see what you’re talking about,” I said, softly, as Monica went to change out of the dress. “For what it’s worth, I like her.”
“Me, too,” he said. “But I need to tread carefully if she ends up renting space in your building.”
When Monica and Grandpa went upstairs to speak with Ms. Oakes, I put the dress in a garment bag.
Max appeared on the filing cabinet with a scowl on her face. “Who was Ms. Hoity-Toity?”
“I imagine you already know she’s the appraiser who’s selling your dad’s collectibles at auction, and her name is Monica Miller.” Max sometimes eavesdropped before she popped in.
“Yeah, I know. I’m not as sold on her as you seem to be.”
“I’m not sold on her—and neither is Grandpa,” I said. “But I’d rather Grandpa date her than Ms. Oakes.”
“I thought you were being all nicey-nicey with old Sour Puss now.”
“That doesn’t mean I want the woman dating my grandpa.” I hung up the garment bag. “Besides, no matter who Grandpa dates, he’ll never stop caring for you.”
“I know. It’s not that—you folks are family to me, and I want you both to be happy. It’s just sometimes I miss things, you know? Like burying myself under covers and feeling the silky material of a new dress against my skin…having a taste of sweet tea or chocolate…” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. But always remember to treasure the little things.”
It was almost lunchtime when I got a call from an unknown number. I always answer, thinking the caller might be someone who has my business card or who got my number from a friend.
“Hello, Designs on You, Amanda speaking. How may I help you?”
“It’s me, Zoe. I’m calling from a friend’s phone because Mom is monitoring mine to make sure I don’t talk with you or Dave.”
“I’m so sorry for all of this,” I said.
“It’s not fair. I know you didn’t drug Papaw. But you’re being treated like a criminal, and I am too.”
“Hang in there,” Max said over my shoulder. “I got in plenty of trouble with your grouchy old great-great-grandmother in my day, but everything always worked itself out. Maggie will be over her mad spell in a day or two.”
“I don’t know,” Zoe said. “She’s rea
lly upset. She thinks Amanda put sleeping medicine in Papaw’s cake to prove she was right about patients being sedated, but I know that’s a load of hooey—I mean, garbage.”
Max’s slang really was rubbing off on Zoe.
“But how can I convince her of that?” Zoe asked.
“It would go a long way in mending fences if we could find out who really did drug him,” Max said. “Does he remember anything about that day?”
“Specifically, after Grandpa and I left,” I added.
“I’ll ask him when the warden gives me the chance. I’d better run before she catches me.”
I was sorry Maggie was keeping such close tabs on Zoe. How could she believe I’d actually drug her dad?
“We’ll talk to you when we can,” I said. But Zoe had already ended the call.
Blowing out a breath, I looked at Max. “Now what?”
“Prayer would be a good start.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
W hile I worked on Marsha Billings’ dress, Max video chatted with Dwight. He was angry that Maggie had ordered Grandpa and me banned from the nursing home.
“They’re my friends, and they can come see me if I want them to!” he shouted.
“Shhh!” Max put a finger to her lips. “Be quiet, or somebody might come in there and give you a sedative.”
“Oh…right. It just makes my blood boil, that’s all.” He leaned forward and peered into his camera.
I could tell he wanted to address me, so I put down my scissors and stepped closer to Max. “Hi, Dwight.”
“Hi, honey. I want you and Dave to come see me this afternoon,” he said. “Can you do that?”
“We don’t want to cause trouble for you,” I said. “Our coming to the nursing home will not only get you in trouble with the staff but with Maggie too.”
“I don’t care. My daughter needs to stop treating me like I’m helpless, and pretty soon, I’ll have the money to leave here—God willing—so I don’t care what they say either.”
“But, Dwight, we have to keep you safe until you can leave the nursing home,” I said.
“I agree with Amanda, darling,” Max said. “And you know how I’m usually the first person eager to rock the boat.”
“You’ve both lost your nerve.” He raised his chin, making it obvious he was issuing a challenge.
I looked at Max, and she shrugged.
“You and Dave come see me this afternoon,” Dwight said. “Let me know when you’re on your way, and I’ll meet you at the front door. If they try to throw you out, they’ll have to toss me out as well. You’re my guests, and I want you there.”
The thought of having a showdown with the nursing home administrator because Maggie had convinced him I’d drugged Dwight made me feel queasy. But I knew I had to do whatever was necessary to get back into the nursing home and find out who put the antihistamine—or whatever was used to sedate Dwight—in his cake. Not only did that person send Dwight to the hospital, but they framed me. Was the cake simply the most convenient way of administering the drug, or was making me look guilty intentional?
I heard the door to the reception room open. “Excuse me. You guys be quiet for a minute okay?”
I hurried into the reception room, closing the door to the workroom behind me and praying Max and Dwight—well, Dwight, anyway—wouldn’t say anything while I was gone.
Connie had come into the reception area and was standing by the window.
“Hi, there.” I smiled. “Is it bad that I’m relieved you’re not a client?”
She laughed. “Not at all. I feel that way too on busy days.”
“Things have been crazy lately.”
“I understand,” she said. “But I’ve come up with an idea about hitting the merchants up for money to help pay for Krista’s ticket. Print out a note setting forth the situation—what you learned from Sienna, what Krista told you in her message, yadda, yadda—and explain that you’re buying a plane ticket to bring Krista home for Christmas.”
“Actually, I’ve already booked the ticket. Krista is scheduled to arrive on Sunday before the Secret Santa party.”
“Excellent.” She clasped her hands, making her bangle bracelets jingle. “Include that in the note and tell them you’re doing this as your Secret Santa gift to Trish. Reveal the cost of the ticket and say you plan to tell Trish the gift of her daughter’s homecoming is from all of us. If anyone would like to contribute toward the cost of the ticket, that would be wonderful but isn’t necessary. I believe that making the gift from everyone will make them feel compelled to give a little something, don’t you?”
“I guess.” First the nursing home, and now the merchants. Ugh.
“Also, including some sort of small treat with the request couldn’t hurt,” she said.
“Right. That’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “I’ll get the notes printed out before I leave today.”
“Glad I could help!” Connie left to go back to her shop.
I looked over to see Max’s head poking through the wall between the two rooms. “I’d have never guessed Connie to be such a manipulative little minx. I like it.”
Later that afternoon, I called Grandpa.
“Hey, Pup. How’s your day?”
“Well, it’s shaping up to be filled with strife and schemes,” I said. “How’s yours?”
“I’m not in it with you. What’s going on over there? Do I need to come kick somebody’s butt?”
Chuckling, I replied, “No, but hold that thought.” I laid out for him Dwight’s plan to have us show up at the nursing home later today. “What do you think?”
“It feels a little soon for us to be pressing our luck,” he said.
“I agree. On the other hand, I’ll never be able to clear my name and find out who drugged Dwight unless we get back in the nursing home. And while Dwight is there and we’re not, he’s vulnerable to another attack.”
“I agree.” He blew out a breath. “We might as well go. What have we got to lose?”
“There’s the possibility one of us might gain a houseguest. What if the nursing home kicks Dwight out?”
“They won’t,” Grandpa said. “They’re making too much money off him to do that.”
I closed up shop at the end of the day and took Jazzy to Grandpa’s house. We fed her and left her there while we visited the nursing home.
Grandpa parked the truck near the front entrance. “Are you ready?”
“No, but we might as well go and get this over with.”
We got out of the truck, and I made a conscious effort to hold up my head and straighten my back. I was as ready as I’d ever be.
Entering the nursing home, the first person we saw was Dwight. His face broke into a wide grin. Other residents were sitting near the large Christmas tree located in the center of the lobby.
Before we could get to Dwight, Mr. Godfrey barreled out of his office. “Ms. Tucker, I told you on the phone earlier today that you are banned from this establishment.”
“I beg your pardon!” Dwight’s voice boomed, closing the distance between us before he could physically get to us. “Amanda and Dave are my guests. If you ban them, then I’m leaving too.”
“Mr. Hall, I’m afraid you don’t understand—” Mr. Godfrey began.
“I understand everything. There’s not a doggone thing wrong with my mind. That’s why I’m the person who decides who comes here to visit me and who doesn’t.”
Penelope came around from behind the desk to place a hand on Dwight’s shoulder. “But, Dwight, we believe Ms. Tucker put a sedative into the cake she brought you.”
“You might believe that malarky, but I don’t. Have these accusations against Amanda been proven?” he asked.
I wished Max was seeing this—she’d be so proud of her nephew!
“No, but—” Penelope broke off, shooting a helpless glance at Mr. Godfrey.
“Then she, Dave, and I are going to my room to enjoy a visit,” Dwight said. “Do either of you have a pr
oblem with that?”
Mr. Godfrey shook his head. “No.” He glared at me. “But we will keep a close eye on you.”
“Good,” I said. “Thank you.”
The three of us headed for Dwight’s room.
I took his arm and gave it a squeeze. When we were out of earshot of Penelope and Mr. Godfrey, I said softly, “You were fantastic.”
“I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”
“Magnificent,” Grandpa said.
“Psst, Amanda!”
I turned to see Sally Jane standing in the hallway adjacent to the one leading to Dwight’s room. “Hi, Sally Jane. I didn’t think you were here on Thursdays.”
“I’m usually not,” she said.
“Pup, we’re going on to Dwight’s room and will see you there,” Grandpa said.
“Okay.” I walked closer to Sally Jane. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I dropped in today to see how Dwight is doing. I’m glad to see you and your grandpa here. The last I heard, Dwight’s daughter was having a fit and wanting Godfrey to keep you out of this place.”
I inclined my head. “There was some tension.”
“Well, anyway, I’m glad it worked out.” She took an inhaler from her purse and used it.
“I didn’t know you had asthma.”
Shrugging, she said, “It’s not bad, but I sometimes have a hard time breathing when I’m stressed. Holidays and all, you know.” She dropped the inhaler back into her purse. “When I’m here visiting with the residents, I have to put my purse in the medicine closet—all the nurses do that too—to make sure none of the residents get into anything they shouldn’t.”
I caught a movement from the corner of my eye and turned. Penelope was watching us from the lobby. “I should go. Thank you for looking out for Dwight, Sally Jane.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to be of help.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
D wight and Grandpa were playing checkers when I stepped into Dwight’s room. The board was set up in an odd configuration, and I frowned.
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