“Which you did brilliantly!” Marjorie noted.
“—my wife tells me you’re a talented seamstress. That’s why, if you’re interested, we’d like to set you up with your own dress shop. Not just mending or alterations, but designing, sewing, and selling dresses. How would you feel about that?”
Griselda’s eyes filled with tears. “How would I feel? My very own business. My own money … mine! I—I’m overwhelmed.”
“And I’m overwhelmed that you helped me the way you did,” Marjorie said. “So I guess that makes us even.”
“Edward,” Creighton addressed his brother. “You didn’t think you’d leave this table empty-handed did you? You’ve helped father run the business for years now and, during those years, you’ve done a far better job than I ever could. Therefore, I’m signing father’s shares of the business over to you.”
“Thank you,” Edward said.
“However, I’m also kicking you out of the family home.”
Edward’s face was a question. “What?”
“Griselda will be staying in the house, but you and Prudence need a fresh start. That’s why I’m giving you the money to purchase your own home … with one stipulation.”
“Certainly,” Edward agreed. “What is it?”
“That you learn from our parents and don’t throw a good thing away,” Creighton glanced at Prudence. “I don’t want to play a regular role in the business, but if you need to take time with your wife and future family,” he winked at Pru, “give me a call and I’ll fill in for you.”
Edward nodded. “I will. And thank you, Creighton. I mean that.”
“Thank you for bailing me out of jail.”
“Any time.”
“Yes, well, let’s hope we never again need to take you up on that offer,” Creighton joked and, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders, announced: “And, last but not least, Marjorie.”
Marjorie spun around to look at her husband. “Me? I already have everything I need. Except, perhaps, a way home.”
“Already done.” Creighton extracted two cruise ship tickets from his inside jacket pocket. “We leave day after tomorrow. But first, we have some unfinished business. Namely, this.” He held Marjorie’s left hand in the air.
“What? The wedding ring?” Marjorie questioned. “We said we’d buy one as soon as we got back home.”
“Nope.” Creighton shook his head. “Not anymore, we aren’t. We’re not going anywhere else until I put a ring on your finger. Not with your track record.”
“Oh, but—”
“No arguing. This time, we’re doing it right. Now, Griselda and Prudence are going to take you upstairs and George will meet you behind the house in an hour.”
Griselda and Pru, having sequestered Marjorie in her bedroom with her garments for the day, ran off, giggling, to tend to their own attire. An hour later, Marjorie emerged from the house, wearing a white chiffon tea dress and a wide-brimmed white hat.
George, dressed in a crisp blue dress shirt and white trousers, met her with a bouquet of lilies and quietly led her through the forest. At her first sight of the white dress, Marjorie had her suspicions as to what was going to transpire, but the sight awaiting her at the end of the trail far exceeded anything she might have imagined. A grassy bluff overlooking the sea had, with the addition on a white arch, been transformed into a temporary altar.
“This is the spot my mother and I told you about,” George whispered. “When Creighton told me what he wanted to do, I thought you two might want to get married on the top of the world.”
Marjorie hugged George tightly and the two marched to the edge of the bluff where Creighton—looking more handsome than ever in a white linen suit and a black neck tie—and the minister stood waiting.
There, surrounded by their family, Sergeant and Mrs. Jackson, and Inspector Nettles, with the deep blue of the Atlantic behind them, Creighton and Marjorie Ashcroft exchanged their marriage vows for the second, and final, time.
Ridgebury was abuzz with excitement as they awaited Marjorie and Creighton’s homecoming. A tent, complete with a dance floor and strands of white lights, had been erected on the church fairgrounds and lined with two buffet tables bearing a variety of sweet and savory dishes. Opposite the buffet tables, an old Victrola stood at the ready to provide the evening’s entertainment.
The Schutts, having demonstrated a change of heart, not only brought the Perfection Salad, but donated twenty folding chairs for the event. Reverend Price had written a special blessing. And Detective Jameson, partly to hear about the rest of the case and partly as a means to escape Sharon, had volunteered to collect the newlyweds from the passenger ship terminal. He would use his car radio to give the townsfolk ample notice of their arrival.
Mrs. Patterson was refilling the lemonade jug when Officer Noon came barreling through the tent entrance. “I got him,” he exclaimed jubilantly. “I finally got him! And not a moment too soon!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Patrick!” Emily Patterson clapped her hands to gain the attention of the other revelers. “Everyone! Did you hear? Officer Noonan has captured the dangerous felon. Now we can celebrate Marjorie and Creighton’s marriage in complete safety!”
Noonan tried in vain to quiet the elderly woman, but it was no use. The entire town let out a collective cheer.
“What would we ever do without you?” Mrs. Wilson cried.
“For once, someone on the police force was doing their job,” Mr. Schutt said proudly.
The only voice of dissention came from Freddie, the fifteen-year-old boy who ran the soda fountain at the Ridgebury drug store. “Wait one minute!” he called. “Officer Noonan was on the green most of the day, and I didn’t see him catch nothin’ except for a cat in a box trap. And I don’t even think that cat was a stray.”
“You keep a civil tongue in your head, young man,” Mrs. Patterson scolded.
“It’s the truth. I swear.” He reached outside the tent entrance and brought in a cage, with Sam inside. “See?”
Noonan reached inside and held the cat protectively. “I can—I can explain.”
“Explain?” Mr. Schutt shrieked.
“You mean he didn’t catch the fiend who’s been terrorizing us?” Mrs. Wilson asked in confusion.
“Officer Noonan, how could you lie to us?” Reverend Price accused. “Don’t you realize how frightened we’ve all been?”
In the midst of the townsfolk’s cries and murmurs, Marjorie, Creighton, and Jameson had returned and now stood, unnoticed, in the entrance of the tent. If their presence had gone undetected, however, the small black cat in Marjorie’s arms had not. At the sight of the foreign cat, Sam hissed, leapt from Noonan’s arms, and ran, hell for leather, out the opposite end of the tent.
“Not again!” Noonan cried and ran after the feline.
“Stop!” Mr. Schutt commanded. “We’re not done with you!”
As the townspeople gave chase, Creighton said to Marjorie, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That as crazy and chaotic as it may be, it’s good to be home?” Marjorie guessed.
“That,” Creighton agreed, “and that if there is a next war, all we need do is unleash this circus and the enemy will cry uncle in no time.”
About the Author
Amy Patricia Meade graduated cum laude from New York Institute of Technology and currently works as a freelance technical writer. Amy lives with her husband, Steve, his daughter, Carrie, and their two cats, Scout and Boo. She enjoys travel, cooking, needlepoint, and entertaining friends and family, and is a member of Sisters in Crime.
Table of Contents
Cover
Splash_Page
Title_Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twel
ve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
About_the_Author
Black Moonlight Page 19