My feeling about in-laws was that they were outlaws.
—Malcolm X, The Autobiography of Malcolm X
WHEN MY ALARM went off Saturday morning, I jumped out of bed and hurried to shower and dress. Gulping down a cup of tea, I read the to-do list Sadie had left on the kitchen counter. There was still so much to be done before the Palantines’ launch party this afternoon!
All day yesterday, store work had kept me busy. Still, I tried discussing my dream with Jack. I asked about his next step in the Ruby Tyler case—but there was no answer and, last night, no new dream. Now the weekend was here, and I was too busy to think about anything but our store event.
Downstairs, morning light poured through our shop windows, and it was luminous. My aunt’s sunny disposition mirrored the weather.
“We got more sign-ups on our website last night.” She was almost giddy. “We’re nearly at capacity, never mind last-minute walk-ins. This has become one of Buy the Book’s biggest events. Let’s hope the fire marshal isn’t one of the ticket holders.”
“I better start setting up chairs,” I said. “We’re going to need all we have and then some.”
“Spencer carried up the extras from the basement. He’s in the event space now, getting a head start.”
As I turned to go, Sadie stopped me. “One more thing, dear. The Saturday Quindicott Bulletin was delivered a few minutes ago. Prepare yourself for the front page.”
“Tell me it’s not about Conway’s murder.”
“We should be so lucky.” Sadie displayed the screaming headlines.
GHOST HAUNTS FINCH INN!
Guests Spot Specter in Woods,
Second Sighting This Month
Has Harriet McClure
Returned from the Grave?
My aunt clucked. “I’m afraid this news will only feed Seymour’s obsession.”
“You noticed how strange he’s been acting?”
“Who hasn’t?” Sadie sighed. “He delivers the mail. People talk.”
The rest of the morning passed in a blur.
Linda delivered boxes of cookies and pretty little tarts from her bakery. Then Spencer’s friend Amy Ridgeway arrived for her weekend visit. After settling in upstairs, she excitedly returned to the shop to help me and Spencer set up the refreshment table.
At half past one, the partygoers began to trickle in, Seymour among the first. Brainert arrived with his visiting professor friend, Violet Brooks.
The tall, mop-haired art historian was once again dressed flamboyantly, this time in a tan dress decorated with big cubistic patches of red, yellow, and green. Her glasses were gone today, and I presumed she’d switched to contact lenses under those thick dark bangs.
As Brainert waved hello to me, Violet barely noticed. With singular focus, she made her way over to the Harriet McClure portrait, where she remained.
By two fifteen, with forty-five minutes to go before Liam and Sally Palantine kicked off the party, the store was at capacity, and we had to close the doors to all but ticket holders. Those who managed to tear their eyes away from the art exhibit were already grabbing seats.
The Palantines had promised press coverage, and they delivered. Along with reporters from New York, Boston, and Rhode Island, Reuters and Publishers Weekly sent stringer photographers. A famous newscaster and her video crew added to the excitement—and the crowding.
As the party was about to begin, I felt confident that things were under control. That’s when Sadie sidled up to me and whispered two words that dashed cold water on my afternoon.
“Ashley’s here.”
Ashley McClure-Sutherland, my late husband’s older sister, called Manhattan home and the family’s Newport mansion her “summer place.” She rarely deigned to show her face within the Quindicott city limits and had never before attended one of our bookstore events. Yet there she was, resplendent in pastel separates, mingling with the journalists.
Like a silent shadow, husband Bertram Sutherland hovered in the background, his stony gray features frozen in a perpetual bland grimace.
Someone else was with Ashley. Violet Brooks appeared to be locked in an intense conversation with my sister-in-law.
“Oh God, Sadie. I pray Ashley doesn’t notice—”
“Penelope!” Ashley warbled, her right arm bobbing in a limp-wristed wave. “Do you have a minute?”
What sharp eyes your sister-in-law has, Jack cracked, finally making an appearance. Be on you guard, Penny. You already know the dame has sharp teeth, too.
As I crossed the floor, I felt as deflated as a dancing balloon man with a broken air pump. I hadn’t seen Ashley in a year or more, and I found her blonder, thinner, and more tanned than ever. Her expression seemed welcoming—but Jack’s warning was on the money. Ashley’s placid features masked a condescending attitude and calculating mind.
As I approached Ashley, I noticed Violet Brooks quickly melting into the crowd. I was sorry to see her go. I was hoping the art historian would blunt this encounter.
But to my dumbfounded surprise, my sister-in-law did not start in with her typical veiled insults. Instead, she showered me with air kisses, then proceeded to compliment the store, the event, and the turnout. I smiled with all the graciousness I could muster, while I waited for the other shoe to drop.
It was my jaw that dropped instead.
“Bertram and I were so impressed to see this store on last week’s CBS Sunday Morning, weren’t we, Bertie?”
Bertram Sutherland issued a faux-British-aristocrat murmur—sort of a baby’s yum-yum sound.
“Sally and Liam speak quite highly of you. Don’t they, Bertram?”
Mr. Sutherland yum-yummed again, but this time, his granite features cracked into a weak half-smile.
Well, well, Jack quipped. Looks like you’ve got the McClure stamp of approval. If I were you, I’d start worrying.
Sure enough, a moment later, Ashley leaned close.
“Penelope, it’s obvious you’ve brought an air of urban sophistication to this tiny town of small minds. I don’t know how you managed it, but it was your vision that began the renaissance of Quindicott. Bertram and I won’t forget, and we promise that you won’t be left behind when this town changes direction.”
“Changes? How?”
Ashley prattled on as if she hadn’t heard me.
“Since Bertram’s left the firm, we’ve been searching for new horizons, new challenges, some way to improve our community and leave our mark on the world. Fortunately we found it right here, in this quaint little town where the McClure family’s legacy began.”
Her grin revealed pearly whites. “That’s why I want you to be the first to know. Penelope, we’re going to be neighbors! Bertram and I are moving to Quindicott.”
Yikes! Jack cried.
Yikes, indeed.