EPILOGUE 

“Whew.” I blew out a breath, raised my forearm, and wiped my brow, which was damp with perspiration, while I surveyed myself in the mirror of the Bonaparte House’s brand-new ladies’ room. Face flushed, I pressed a damp paper towel to my cheeks and combed my hair, then repositioned a bright orange gerbera daisy in the creamy vase on the counter. I gave the dish of potpourri a little stir to release its spicy fragrance. The walls seemed to glow with a pale yellow light when the afternoon sun hit them, just as I’d imagined they’d look when I chose the color what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Steve and his new crew, minus Russ and Zach, had finished the renovations on schedule. All traces of the murder of James MacNamara were gone, replaced with brand-new tile and new fixtures. I closed my eyes. No, I couldn’t feel him here, so I had to assume he was at that great country club in the sky, sitting at the celestial nineteenth hole with a scotch and soda in front of him and deciding whose wife he was going after next. I washed up and stuck my hands into the new high-speed dryer, which had the approximate power of a jet engine, then headed back out to the dining rooms.

The Bonaparte House was full on Thanksgiving Day for the first time ever and it appeared the experiment was a success. Cal, Inky, Spiro, and I had set up the tables for larger than normal parties, and Dolly and I had prepared a buffet turkey dinner with all the trimmings—including a few nontraditional ones like Greek salad and dolmades (brined grape leaves stuffed with rice and lamb), which turned out to be a nice foil for the heavy American fare. We’d gone through a dozen assorted pies, and it looked like we’d calculated just about right, as my guests seemed to be winding down with coffee, tea, and conversation and there were only a few desserts on the serving table.

Ten dollars from every dinner was being split between the food pantry and the school PTOs. My mother-in-law, Sophie, would have a fit if she knew, since she wasn’t terribly civic-minded—okay, not at all civic-minded—but I’d sworn my family to secrecy. And speaking of my family, they were all here except for Sophie and her cousin Marina, who were enjoying the Aegean sunshine on the other side of the world. Melanie and Liza sat together at a table up front with Inky and Spiro. Melanie was sticking her fork into her pumpkin pie and twisting it around, deliberately not taking a bite, while the others seemed to be enjoying their desserts with gusto. Melanie and Caitlyn were staying at the Camelot now that Liza’s spa had closed up for the winter, and she’d be heading back to California right after Christmas to begin taping her show again. We’d settled into a tentative relationship, even though she’d refused my offer again to stay with me while she recovered. We’d never have a conventional mother-daughter relationship—largely because Melanie had a hard time admitting she had a daughter who was approaching middle age—but it was good enough for now.

Steve Murdoch sat on the other side of Liza. The two of them appeared to be deep in conversation. I smiled. Steve had some things to work out, now that Jennifer had left town, but I couldn’t help wondering if something—someone—better might be on the horizon for him. He’d decided to go ahead and purchase the Silver Lake property. Old Lady Turnbull’s granddaughter was going to get to go to medical school after all. But Steve had changed his mind about developing the lakefront. Instead, he was selling the land to a forever wild trust at a very small profit. Not that anyone asked my opinion, but I approved. It made me happy to think that that beautiful shoreline would be preserved.

Russ Riley sat with Dolly—whom I’d insisted needed to sit down and take a break—his stepfather, Harold, and his sister, Brandy. Russ had been released from prison quickly once the real murderer had been caught. And he’d gotten what he wanted. His hunting land had been protected by Steve’s purchase. But Russ’s probation officer and the court had come down hard on him when they learned he’d violated his probation and left the state for Florida just before returning to the North Country, and just before he’d been arrested on suspicion of murder. He could now walk the woods to his heart’s content, but carrying a firearm was out of the question. There’d be no legal hunting for him for years. He claimed he had no intention of going back to jail by violating his probation again, so if he was telling the truth, the Silver Lake deer were safe for now.

Brandy had agreed to trap and take the big orange cat home to live in her barn, which was a bit of a relief for me. She said she’d let me know whether the cat would be called Hortense or Horace.

Franco and Marielle had stopped in to say hello on their way to a family Thanksgiving of their own.

An arm snaked around my shoulders. I turned to see Cal’s smiling face. “Great job here, Mom.”

I smiled back. “I couldn’t have done it without you and Dad and Inky and Dolly.” My heart swelled with love for my baby girl turned young woman and I reached up and tucked a lock of her shiny dark hair behind her ear, making the dangly silver earrings she wore dance in the dim light from the candles on the tables. Now I’d have to go wash my hands again before I touched anything food-related, but I didn’t care. She’d be leaving me again after Christmas to go back to Greece and back to school, and I’d have to let her go.

“Say, Mom?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and wrinkled her nose, the way she’d done since she was a child when she had something to tell me and wasn’t sure how I’d react.

“Yes, sweetie?” Please don’t let her say she’s leaving early. Though of course I’d let her go if she asked.

“Um, I know it’s Thanksgiving night and all, but do you think once the dishes are done and the food’s packed up . . . would you mind . . .”

“Spit it out, Cal.”

“Well, Ewan Murdoch asked me to go the movies in Watertown tonight.” Her eyes searched my face. “I won’t go if you’re going to be alone, though.”

My heart gave a little squeeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ewan sitting next to his father, his mother conspicuously absent. He cut his eyes in our direction, obviously trying not to be obvious. He was a good-looking guy like his father, with curly chestnut brown hair and brown eyes, and dressed in a tweed sports jacket he’d probably borrowed from Steve since it seemed a little big in the shoulders. The poor kid was going through a tough time, with his parents having just announced their breakup. He could probably use a night out with a pretty girl. I knew as well as anyone that Callista Nikolopatos was good company.

“Oh, go on,” I said, giving her a gentle shove. “I’ll get Dad and Inky to help me wrap things up here, then I’ll invite them to stay over and we can watch old Cary Grant movies and eat the raspberry pie and vanilla ice cream I have hidden in the walk-in.”

Her face split into a broad grin that was worth every penny we’d paid for expert orthodontic work when she was younger. She gave me a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go ask Ewan and Steve if they need a refill on their coffee.” She headed off to do my bidding.

I had no idea if Inky and Spiro would want to stay. Probably not, though Dolly’s pie was a pretty good incentive. They had their own lives to lead now, and I didn’t need anybody feeling sorry for lonely old me. A lump formed in my throat. I could feel plenty sorry for myself all on my own. And I had pie to keep me company.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. The dining room seemed under control, so I headed out into the hallway and toward my office to take the call. I frowned as I reached for the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. The phone continued to buzz. A look at the screen told me I’d missed a call from Jack and my heart sank. I tried the doorknob again and felt resistance. This wasn’t funny. I knew I hadn’t locked the door, and the key was right where it belonged—in the top drawer of my desk inside the office.

Well, heck. Now I’d have to see if Inky with his illegal but useful skills could either pick the lock or go in through the window that faced the employee parking lot and open the door from the inside. Blowing out a sigh, I spun on my heel to go find him.

A gentle breath of air kissed the back of my neck and the hinges of the big oak door creaked behind me. The muscles of my back stiffened. I turned around, slowly.

Jack Conway stood in the door frame, grinning his movie star smile and looking better than any raspberry pie ever could. He reached out his long arms and drew me close, pulled me into my office, and shut the door. I pressed my cheek against the soft wool of his dark sweater as tears welled up into my eyes. I hoped I didn’t ruin the sweater with my waterworks. His chin rested on my hair, which I knew probably smelled like the restaurant kitchen, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Jack pulled back and looked into my eyes, his hands coming to rest on my waist. “Miss me?”

“You know I did,” I sniffed. Darn it, I forbade myself to cry. Jack couldn’t help that his job with the Coast Guard sometimes took him away for weeks at a time, or that he couldn’t tell me exactly what he did or where he was going.

“I’ve just been out at Gladys’s house, turning on the furnace to warm the place up. I don’t suppose you’d like to come out there later to help me decorate for the holidays?” He ran his hands around to the small of my back, leaving a trail of warmth that spread pleasantly to . . . other places. I stepped forward into his embrace.

“Funny, you don’t look like Martha Stewart,” I said.

“You wound me. My scones are things of beauty.”

I laughed. “I’ll bet they are. Will there be a fire in the fireplace?”

“What kind of host-in-someone-else’s-home would I be if I didn’t make a fire?”

I wrapped my arms around him a little tighter, brazen hussy that I was. Maybe this would be a good night for Cal to stay with her father after the movie. “Do you even know where Gladys keeps the decorations?”

He pulled one hand away from my back, and I was disappointed at the loss of contact. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out his closed fist, which he raised above his head. His fingers uncurled to reveal a sprig of dark green leaves attached to white, waxy berries. Mistletoe.

“I figure this might be all the decoration we need,” he said. Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss.

Give me understated decorations anytime.