CHAPTER SEVEN

 

"Sal," Josie yelled from the back room. "What time is your dress fitting?"

I was placing jelly cookies and genettis into one of our little pink boxes for Mrs. Josten, an elderly woman who lived down the street. "Two o'clock. Do you think you can manage without me for a while? I could ask my grandmother to stop by."

Josie came into the front room with a tray of fortune cookies for the display case. I was always happy for the additional business they provided but secretly wished they weren't so popular. Some days they did unnerve me a bit.

"No. Your grandmother's probably busy nursing your mother's hurt feelings today." Josie grabbed a piece of wax paper and placed the cookies inside the case. "I'll be fine. The new driver can help me out if necessary."

I raised my eyebrows. "You went ahead and hired Mickey Steiger without asking me?"

She set the empty tray on top of the case. "Look. We can give him a try this week, and if he doesn't work out, we'll let him go. He'll be here at one thirty." She squinted at the clock on the wall. "Ten minutes, I mean. I need him to deliver that order to the Belvedere Banquet House. They're having a retirement party for one of their employees tonight, remember? The restaurant is paying good money for that tray of cookies."

I was too tired to fight it. "Yeah, okay. I really don't know anything about him though, and that bothers me. We haven't exactly had good luck with hiring employees in the past."

That was an understatement. We'd hired helpers in the past, and neither occasion had worked out well. The two women who I'd employed at different times had not been ideal for us, with one actually stealing a recipe that we had planned to use in a baking competition. We'd also had a part-time driver who'd been murdered.

Josie broke into my thoughts. "Rob said he's a good kid." Josie's husband played in a softball league with Mickey and his older brother, James. They were supposed to play every Sunday since Josie didn't work, but because Josie had been at the shower with me yesterday, Rob had skipped the weekly game when they couldn't find a babysitter.

"Of course," Josie said wickedly, "I couldn't help noticing the other day when Mickey was here filling out his application that he kept gazing at you in all your loveliness."

I did a major eye roll in response. "I think you're imagining things. How old is this kid again?"

"Eighteen," she replied smoothly. "Legal age. He wouldn't be the first one to fantasize about an older woman, right?"

The entire thought was unsettling and ridiculous. "Okay, you need to stop this. It's—disturbing. We'll try him out for one week. When he gets back from the delivery, maybe you could show him how to work the register and some other simple things around here. Make sure he fills out his I-9 and W-4. At least I'll feel better knowing that you won't be alone here this afternoon."

The bells sounded on the front door, and one of the last people I wanted to see—Marla Channing—sauntered in. She was dressed skimpily as usual, with a white halter top made of a thin, silk-like material that showed the curve of her massive chest and made it blatantly obvious that she was not wearing a bra underneath. The white jean shorts she had paired with the top were tight fitting and barely covered her rear. Her canvas, high wedge platform heels showed off toes that were painted a hot pink. I couldn't help thinking the outfit would have looked great on my mother. Unfortunately, Marla was no slouch in it either.

I watched as she wiggled her body over to the counter and gave me a small prissy smile. I could understand why Mike—or any man for that matter—would have dated her. Despite the sleazy way she dressed, I had to admit she was beautiful with her long, tousled blonde hair, large amber-colored eyes, and a heart-shaped face with delicate features.

Her eyes scanned the T-shirt and jeans I had donned. The white bib apron that I wore over them was covered in chocolate stains from the cookies I'd just frosted.

"Hi, Sally," she giggled. "I think I'll take a black and white cookie today. Same colors as you're wearing. Tee-hee."

I clenched my teeth together and reached down into the display case. I placed the cookie into one of the little white bags and handed it to her. "That's a dollar fifty."

Marla handed me two singles, and I rang up her order.

"How's Mike?" she asked, in a voice that was both breathless and seductive.

I froze, my back to her, and exchanged an eyebrow-raising glance with Josie who was standing nearby cleaning off the espresso machine. "He's fine, thanks."

"Oh, you forgot my fortune cookie," Marla said.

Josie narrowed her eyes at the woman and spoke in a tone so low that Marla couldn't hear. "I'll get her a cookie she won't forget."

Marla let out another high-pitched giggle. "It's funny. I never thought about Mike being the marrying type. Do you know what I mean?"

Stay calm, Sal. She's trying to get a rise out of you. "No, I don't know what you mean," I said quietly.

Marla took the fortune cookie from Josie's outstretched hand. "He always struck me as the love 'em and leave 'em type. At least that's the way he was with me."

She fluttered eyelashes that I was positive were fake and gave me a coy smile.

Suddenly I was thankful that I'd already given Marla her order because that cookie might have wound up smashed in her face. "You're entitled to your own opinion."

She gave me a wide-eyed, deer in the headlights look. "You don't seem his type."

I bristled inwardly and reminded myself that I had what she wanted, and there was no reason to get into a hair pulling fight with this woman. "I guess you'll have to ask Mike what his type is then."

Josie folded her arms across her chest. "You dated him—what? Once? Twice at most?"

"True," Marla admitted. "But it's what we actually did on those dates that counted."

My hand rose slowly into the air, aching to slap that smug smile off her face. Since I was behind the display case, I didn't think Marla had seen the movement. I had never hit anyone in my entire life, with the exception of my sister when we were children and having typical sibling arguments.

Josie moved closer to my side and covered my hand with hers. "Yes, I see that spot on the case, Sal. Don't worry. I'll clean it off now."

Marla gave a slow toss of her head and reached into the bag for her cookie. She took a tiny ladylike bite and continued to stare at us. "Well, if you hadn't thrown a leash around his neck, I bet we could have made an awesome couple." She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully as she mocked me with her smile. "That man is hot."

"Get the hell out of here," Josie growled.

I walked around the counter until there were only inches between myself and Marla. She looked surprised at my action and backed up a step as if afraid I might strike her.

"I'm delighted that you think my fiancé is hot, Marla." Although hopping mad on the inside, I made an extra effort to keep my voice on an even keel. "I think he's pretty hot myself but will be sure to pass the message along."

Josie let out a bark of laughter while Marla's mouth dropped open. She started to say something then turned on her heel and stormed out of the bakery, almost knocking down a teenaged boy who'd been just outside the entrance talking on his cell phone.

Josie slung an arm around my shoulders. "Sal, I have to hand it to you. If that chick had talked that way to me about Rob, I would have rearranged her face."

I blew out a long breath and stared down at my hands, which were shaking. I hated confrontation of any sort, and it had taken all my restraint to keep from smacking her. The woman was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and I wouldn't risk my business on her petty ways. I was furious that Marla also had the nerve to throw in my face that she had slept with Mike at a time when we weren't even together. What he had done back then was his business. I didn't plan to ask him about it because I had no desire to know what had happened, just as I was positive he didn't want intimate details about my marriage to Colin either.

When I came back home a year ago, Mike had confessed that even though he had dated several women during the ten years we'd been apart, he'd never gotten over me. Of course that was satisfying for my ego to hear, and the same had been true on my part. I'd gone on to date and marry another man on the rebound after our breakup. It had ended in disaster because of his infidelity to me, but perhaps deep down Colin had known that I still cared for Mike. The only thing that mattered now was that we loved and trusted each other. As long as we had both these elements in our marriage, nothing would come between us.

"Don't you think," I said, "that acting like that after only going out with someone for one or two dates might constitute unnatural behavior?"

"Oh, she's definitely stalker material," Josie said. "She was in here one day when the two of you were talking in the back room. I swear that there were daggers in that chick's eyes. Plus, he hasn't had anything to do with her in over a year. She isn't playing with a full deck."

We looked at each other and seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Sal," Josie said softly. "We should see if Brian's spoken to her yet."

I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. It was nerve wracking to think that someone might actually want to kill me. Sure, I'd had people try to hurt me before, but not in this manner. Usually I became involved when someone close to me was in trouble, like when Gianna was suspected of starting my bakery on fire when her client's body was found inside, or when Mike had been arrested for Colin's murder. I didn't go around asking for trouble, but it still seemed to find me anyway.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll call him when I get back from my fitting."

The bells on the door jingled merrily, and the boy who'd been standing outside, Mickey Steiger, hesitated in the doorway. He nodded to Josie and when our gazes met, his face turned red, and he hung his head downward.

Actually, there wasn't much about Mickey that wasn't red. He was a true carrottop in the sense of the word, with freckles all over his arms and cheeks. Large brown eyes were set in a serious square face. He was about five foot nine inches tall and so skinny I thought I could quite easily pick him up.

"Hey, Mickey," Josie greeted him. "Let me go grab your forms." She walked into the back room and left me standing there alone with the chatterbox. Mickey kept his eyes glued on the floor.

I smiled, although I wasn't sure he could see it. "I hope you'll like working here."

Mickey glanced up, as if startled by the sound of my voice. When he saw me looking at him, he flushed and stared down at the floor again. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Gee, this was going well. Thankfully Josie appeared at that moment and guided him toward one of the little tables set up in front of the bay window. "After you fill these out, I'm going to send you out on your first delivery," she said. "When you get back, you can help me behind the counter for a little while until Sal gets back."

Mickey sat down in the chair Josie indicated, his long legs stretched out casually in a pair of faded jeans. He accepted the pen she gave him and then stole another furtive glance in my direction. Eek. Josie may have been right after all. From the way he was looking at me, I was either the object of his affection or had snakes in my hair like Medusa.

The bells on the door sounded again. Mrs. Gavelli walked in and pointed a stubby finger at me.

"Aha!" she said. "I know I find you here."

Josie leaned against the counter. "She works here. You're a regular brain surgeon, aren't you?"

Mrs. Gavelli glared at Josie. "You always troublemaker, ever since a little girl. You make this one a troublemaker too. She try to work her wiles on my grandson years ago, and now she make Gianna a hussy too."

Oh, brother. "How about a fortune cookie?" I asked in a cheery tone. "On the house."

Mrs. Gavelli snorted. "You try to bribe me. It no good, but I take anyway. Now I go get your wedding gift today. Is big surprise. Good gift."

Josie's eyes twinkled as she handed her a fortune cookie. "She doesn't want a chastity belt, Mrs. G."

I bit into my lower lip to keep from laughing.

Mrs. Gavelli's jaw dropped. She glared at me and then shook her finger menacingly at Josie. "You go to hell for that remark." She cracked the cookie open. "Aha! See. Finally you give me good fortune."

"What's it say?" Josie teased. "You will live long enough to torture many more souls?"

She let out a loud harrumph. "Just for that, I no tell you." She whirled around and pushed open the front door with a vengeance, setting the bells off in a frenzy.

"She shouldn't talk to you that way."

We both turned to look at Mickey. I was shocked that he had opened his mouth, let alone dared to voice his opinion of my personal tormenter. When Mickey saw us staring, he looked back down at his forms and continued writing without another word. His ears had turned as red as his hair.

 

*   *   *

 

Becky's Bridals was a small dress shop run out of a duplex in Colwestern. Becky Winchester, sole proprietor, owned the entire building. One side was devoted to the shop and the other her personal residence. The building was white with pink shutters, and a large sign in hot pink letters hung on the front door. Be a Becky Bride and Put Some Romance in Your Life.

Becky was my mother's age. In fact, they had gone to school together. She was loud, brash, and very good at her job. She'd been divorced three times and knew everyone's business in town. Her daughter Lydia was one of the seamstresses and stood at attention nearby, ready to assist if the dress didn't fit to perfection.

The salon was cute, with pale pink walls and a rose-colored carpet. Becky had tried to talk me into a pink wedding gown, but I had politely declined. The shop itself was split into two rooms. One side contained racks of wedding gowns in almost every color, from white to her favorite, a prominent pink, and I had even spotted one in an arctic blue shade. There must be someone who longed to be a Disney princess on their wedding day.

The other side of the room held bridesmaid gowns and mother-of-the-bride dresses. My mother had picked out a jeweled, strapless silver gown with a slit up the right side so high it threatened to reveal her underwear. Don't get me wrong—she looked sensational in it. My only hope is that she would actually be wearing underwear.

"Oh, honey," Becky crooned as I came out of the single dressing room. "This dress was made for you. Your young man is going to go wild when he sees you in it."

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I did love this dress. It was light and comfortable, an ivory satin with a lace overtone. Tiny sleeves were also covered in lace, and the V-neck design complimented my chest, where I was a little more endowed than I preferred to be. Josie, who was almost as flat as a board, had told me on several occasions over our lifelong friendship that she'd be more than happy to trade with me. I guess you always want what you can't have.

Becky bustled over and started plucking the material at my waste, pinching it between her fingers until she found me.

"Ouch." Her nails were long and painful, and I was grateful that the pin she held was in her other hand. "What are you doing?"

She frowned. "You've lost weight since last week. I can tell by the extra material at your waist."

"It feels fine," I protested. "The dress is very comfortable."

She wagged a finger at me. "Don't tell me you're on that freakish diet where you eat nothing but carrots for two weeks before the wedding. You don't want to pass out on your way down the aisle, do you?"

Another cheerful thought. Right now my primary goal was to reach the aisle—alive. Okay, stop it, Sal. That gunshot wasn't meant for you. You don't have any enemies. At least I hoped not. I needed to ask Brian about the results of his search as soon as possible.

The back door buzzed, and Lydia went to see who it was. Becky pointed at two large garment bags that were hanging from a rack by the register. "Gianna and Josie's gowns. Gianna said she didn't have time to come by and try it on." She rolled her eyes. "That girl will never learn. Did you want to take it with you?"

Gianna and Josie were both wearing pastel gowns made of a chiffon material with rounded necks and slightly puffy sleeves. The dresses were tea length, and they looked gorgeous in them. "Sure. That's fine."

Lydia closed the back door and approached us, waving a small box in her hand. "I just found this outside the door. It has a note on top that says For the bride-to-be."

"Well, that helps," her mother said dryly. "We have three other brides coming for fittings today. Maybe there's a name on the inside."

A tiny prickle of fear shot through me as I watched Lydia remove the top from the box. She held up a gold chain and offered it to me. "Sal, it must be for you. It's a fortune cookie necklace."

I stared at the necklace but refused to touch it. The tiny gold fortune cookie on the chain didn't have a place to hold messages, but it appeared that my fan club had struck again. Lydia looked at a slip of paper in the box, and her face immediately paled.

I bit into my lower lip. "What does it say?"

She hesitated then read aloud in a puzzled voice. "One person's wedding might become their funeral."