TWENTY-SEVEN
That evening, Tricia was not good company. She listened to Angelica go on and on about the renovations at the Morrison Mansion and how she was choosing wallpapers for the six guest bedrooms, but Tricia hardly listened. Of course, Angelica picked up on her lack of participation in the conversation.
“Are you okay?”
Tricia poked at the food on her plate. “I’m just in a funk.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, really,” Tricia lied. “I just feel flat.”
Angelica squinted at her sister. “Are you fixating on Lauren Barker’s murder?”
“A little.”
“And maybe your relationship with David?” Angelica probed.
Tricia nodded. “More than a little.”
Angelica shook her head. She’d warned Tricia not to fall too heavily for the guy, but thankfully, she didn’t (yet again) voice that opinion. Instead, she changed the subject.
When David arrived at Tricia’s place, he immediately picked up on her melancholy. He clasped her hand and drew her to sit on the couch.
“Something’s been bothering you for days. I wish you felt comfortable enough to tell me about it,” David said, sounding just a little hurt.
“It’s just…” Tricia wasn’t sure how to approach the conversation and instead blurted, “I don’t know how I’ll get along after you’re gone.”
David looked puzzled. “Gone where?”
“If you lose your job at the library.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, sounding confused.
“But if your job disappears?”
“I’d be staying here to be near you.”
“But?”
“Did you think I’d leave you just because of a job?” he asked, sounding offended.
“Well…yes.”
David studied Tricia’s face, frowning. “If you’d only mentioned it to me, I could have allayed your fears.”
Tricia looked into the distance. “That’s not an option I’ve had in the past.”
“What?” David asked, sounding puzzled. “Are you saying you couldn’t be honest with the other men in your life?”
Tricia thought about it. In some way or another, every man she’d ever been with had betrayed her. It was enough to make one want to forget about love. Would David one day betray her, too? Her still-wounded heart ached, but if she was honest, she remained a hopeful optimist…and the gap in their ages was a pretty formidable obstacle.
She looked away, thinking of the muttered taunts of “cougar” that had lately been bandied her way on far too many occasions. Worse, some thought David was exploiting their relationship for gain. So far, no one had said it aloud, but she was pretty sure some had come to that conclusion.
“Let’s just say they weren’t always honest with me.”
David shook his head sadly. “Oh, Tricia…why would you think I’d leave you?”
“Because…you’ve worked so hard to get your degree. Because you love working with children—something I can never give you. Because…”
“I’m young, and commitment means nothing?” he asked, his voice flat.
“I don’t know…” she waffled.
“Just so you know, commitment means a lot to me,” David asserted. “If I lost my library job, there are other things I could do right here in Stoneham, or at least in southern New Hampshire or northern Massachusetts.”
“Like what?” Tricia asked, not believing such a thing could be possible.
“Like being a corporate librarian.”
Fat chance of that happening, Tricia thought. Those kinds of positions were almost as rare as children’s librarian jobs.
“And who says I have to be a librarian?” David asked.
“I thought that was your lifelong dream,” Tricia said, suddenly confused.
“Not really,” David remarked. “I mean, I do love it, but I could be happy doing something else.”
“Like what?” Tricia asked, still doubtful.
“Like being a consultant.”
“In what field?”
“Vintage furnishings. Or I might open an antiques shop. Although, my first coup would be stealing Pixie from you and having her come work for me. The woman has an uncanny eye for salable vintage merchandise.”
“Why does it seem like everyone on the planet wants to poach her from me?” Tricia cried.
“You mean Angelica and Nigela Ricita?”
Tricia nodded. “Pixie’s knowledge of vintage clothes, books, furniture, china, and glassware is a hot commodity.”
“Angelica and Nigela?” David asked pointedly.
Tricia remembered her promise to her sister not to divulge the truth about her dual personalities. “Yes,” she said simply.
“It’s time to come clean,” David said.
“In what way?”
“That Angelica and Nigela are one and the same.”
“Who says?” Tricia bluffed.
“Half the village.”
As Tricia suspected.
David continued. “Angelica—as Nigela—has already offered me a position to work with her company as a consultant.”
“To do what?”
“Work with the landscape architect and help outfit the Morrison Mansion with appropriate furnishings and decorative items.”
“Is that something you’d like to do?”
“If I lost the library gig? Yeah, in a heartbeat, and I’d be tempted to sell my soul just to do it on a volunteer basis during the off-hours from my day job. Not many people get paid to explore their hobbies for fun and profit.”
Tricia tried to digest what he was saying. “Then…you aren’t thinking of leaving Stoneham?”
“That would mean leaving you, and that’s not something I’m prepared to do.” He looked at her tenderly. “I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said those words, bringing tears to her eyes.
“And I love you, too,” she admitted.
David reached out a hand, and that was all it took for her to fall into his embrace. Tricia held on for a long, long time. When they pulled apart, they kissed, and then Tricia settled her head against David’s chest and sighed. “You’ve lifted a huge weight from my shoulders.”
“How long have you been carrying that?”
Tricia had to swallow before she could answer. “Since the night Lauren Barker died.”
“I’m sorry about that. We should have had this conversation when the trouble started between me and Amelia Doyle. I mean, she’s had it in for me since the day she came on board as library director. But I’m not the only one in her sights. She instantly disliked anyone and anything that Lois Kerr hired or approved of. Why are some people so damned petty and vindictive?”
“I wish I knew,” Tricia remarked.
“Well, that’s not how we operate,” David said, wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulder. “Besides. Mrs. Everett told me that Amelia can’t just fire me. It would be up to the board to get rid of me. She’s let me know she’s on my side and thinks others on the board would be, too. Now, if any of my co-workers quit because of Amelia…that’s a different story. That is, unless there’s a mass exodus, and then the board would have to ask themselves why.”
“So, you’re not thinking about quitting?”
David shook his head. “Although…the offer to work full-time on the Morrison Mansion project is awfully tempting.”
“As you said, even a part-time job on the restoration could be pretty exciting.”
“I wanted to get your opinion before I accepted it. It means that some of my free time that I could spend with you would be spent elsewhere.”
“My darling David. I work a seven-day week. I already feel like all the time we have together is stolen. But you have weekends off. I would encourage you to spend that time doing something you love and that fulfills you.”
“Thank you.”
Tricia heaved a sigh. “Angelica wants me to work with Amelia on the January library book sale.”
“Better you than me,” David said under his breath.
“One of the things I want to ask her is when the bees were going to be removed from the library’s roof. Eileen Harvick didn’t want to reveal that information, as though it should be kept top secret. She’s worried about a lawsuit should someone get stung.”
“Won’t happen,” David declared, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?”
“The library board made sure insurance would cover any mishaps. I was told they were thrilled to be a part of so-called urban beekeeping. Stoneham Village is hardly an urban area. Lois Kerr thought it might be a great learning experience for kids. She had the Harvicks talk to a couple of groups of kids. They all got little sample pots of honey, too. Apparently, they were gobsmacked.”
“Have you heard when the bees will be removed?”
“Tomorrow, late afternoon between five and six, when there’s a lull in library patrons.”
“Are you going to hang around to watch their removal?”
David shrugged. “I don’t know that there’ll be all that much to see. I imagine Mr. Harvick will be covered in his beekeeping suit and lower the hives to someone below. I heard his son helped him put them up there in the spring on a pulley system. But no matter what, the bees have to be gone before the end of library hours tomorrow, and as it gets darker earlier than later, the supper hour is when it has to happen.”
“Hmmm. I wonder if I might be able to delay happy hour with Angelica so I can watch the operation. I mean, I’m fascinated with the whole idea of beekeeping.”
“How about if the little buggers crawl all over you—or sting you?”
“I wouldn’t be keen on that,” Tricia admitted. “But I love honey, and I recently bought some beeswax candles. I should have lit them tonight. They give off an amazing scent.”
“How about lighting them the next time I come over?”
“I will. I should also look up some recipes that call for honey. I like the idea of using it instead of granulated sugar. Maybe I could make some honey-based cookies for Pixie, Mr. Everett, and my customers.”
David laughed. “If you do, save a few for me, will you?”
“I will. I’ll bake you anything you like. I love to try new recipes. I’m nowhere near being the best cook in the village, but I’m getting pretty good at baking,” she bragged.
“If you want to experiment, I’ll be your willing taste tester.”
The idea of baking for David pleased her, and she would keep him in mind the next time she baked cookies or prepared a dessert for the Sunday family dinners.
David yawned. “I’m beat. With all this studying, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I’ll get a tiny break around Thanksgiving, but I think my parents will expect me to come home. It’ll just be the three of us, as my brother and his wife are going to her parents’ house for dinner, unless you want to come,” he said hopefully.
“Would they be open to coming here? I’m sure Angelica, or Nigela, could find them a room at either the Sheer Comfort Inn or the Brookview Inn—and with the friends-and-family discount.”
“I’ll e-mail my mom and ask. It would be great if they could come. They already love the village. Seeing it all decorated for Christmas would be nice.”
“I’m sure there’d be no problem with Angelica or Ginny, as we’ll probably have the meal at Ginny’s house, and you know there’s plenty of room to add two more to the mix.”
“Yeah, I’ll ask,” David said. He sounded pleased.
Tricia snuggled closer to him. She liked his parents. They seemed to like her. She wanted them to continue to like her.
David yawned again. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long couple of days. I’m bushed.”
“Want to go to bed?” Tricia asked with just a hint of a tease in her voice.
“I wouldn’t say no,” David said.
Tricia stood and held out her hand. “Then let’s go.”
Tricia pulled David to his feet and then turned off all the lights before they started toward the stairs to her bedroom suite, with Miss Marple scampering ahead of her, and David trailing only a step behind her.
After that, she put all thoughts of business, murder, beekeeping, and Chamber business out of her mind. Now it was time to concentrate on connecting with another human being who seemed to understand her, and whom she understood.
And it was about time.
The next morning, Tricia started the day by making breakfast while David showered. By the time he reached the kitchen, Tricia had again assembled her version of a fast-food breakfast sandwich. Down it went with a cup of coffee and not a complaint.
Afterward, they walked to the municipal parking lot, where they once again parted company with a kiss and went their separate ways. David took off in his Jeep and Tricia started off on her walk.
The weather on that day was mild, with temperatures rising to the high sixties and the morning clouds were supposed to burn off before the noon hour—perfect leaf peeping weather. The addition of another tour bus was sure to make the day a perfect success.
As she walked, Tricia made a mental list of what she needed to accomplish. She decided she’d procrastinated enough about calling Amelia Doyle to discuss the upcoming library sale and decided she’d do that as soon as she returned to her shop. Pixie had mentioned it was past time to haul out the Halloween decorations. It wasn’t Tricia’s favorite holiday, as her mother hadn’t let her eat the Halloween candy she’d trick-or-treated, telling her it would make her fat. And despite operating a mystery bookstore, Tricia wasn’t fond of decorating with faux skulls and skeletons. As they pleased Pixie, Tricia would have to endure the macabre décor for a couple of weeks. It was much more fun to decide how to mix up their other holiday decorations.
As Tricia was about to unlock the door to Haven’t Got a Clue, she once again saw Mary Fairchild exit the Patisserie with a white baker’s bag—no doubt containing her breakfast.
“Tricia—I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mary said, grinning.
“Oh?” Tricia said warily. After their last encounter, she wasn’t sure if Mary should be considered a friend or foe.
“I did as you suggested and sent a thank-you card to Ms. Kraft.”
A flush of relief spread through her. “I’m so glad,” Tricia said.
“Not only that, but Ms. Kraft—Stella—invited me to her home for tea. I actually closed my shop for a few hours to visit her.”
“And?” Tricia asked, and by Mary’s joyful expression, anticipated a positive response.
“We had a wonderful conversation.” Suddenly, Mary’s eyes brimmed with tears. “She’d kept a copy of an essay I’d written about my grandma, who taught me how to crochet, knit, and sew.” Mary dipped a hand into her slacks pocket to withdraw a tissue that she used to dab her eyes. “I don’t even remember writing that homework assignment, but when I read it again it brought back all those sweet memories of my wonderful grandma, and I cried like a baby.”
A lump rose in Tricia’s throat. She was a sucker for such feel-good stories.
“Ms. Kraft—Stella—gave me that copy of the essay. I had no idea she’d made it, but she explained that she tried to save her students’ best work to remember them by.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“I’m going to frame that essay and hang it in my store so I can see it every day and remember Grandma and how much she taught me about the domestic arts and—more importantly—life.”
“Did you learn anything else about your former teacher?”
Mary laughed. “Yeah. She makes the best molasses cookies I’ve ever tasted and gave me the recipe. And you know what else? We’re going to stay in touch.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that. Stella was so demoralized the last time I spoke to her.”
“I spoke to a couple of acquaintances from school who came to the same realization about our former teacher. We’re going to organize a reading group, and we’ve asked Ms. Kraft to not only join us, but suggest what we should read. The girls agreed to meet on Sunday mornings so I wouldn’t have to close the shop to attend.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“And it’s all because of you,” Mary said gratefully.
“Oh, no,” Tricia protested, but Mary wouldn’t accept her denial.
“Nope. You made it happen. Maybe someday you’ll join us.”
“That would be nice.”
Mary giggled. “We’re going to rotate bringing treats to the meetings. I thought I might try a couple of the recipes from one of Angelica’s cookbooks.”
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear that.”
Mary glanced at her watch. “Oops! Gotta go. I heard another bus full of tourists could pull in today. I need to be ready.”
“I hope you have a great sales day.”
“You, too,” Mary said, and waved at Tricia before she started off in the direction of her shop.