For the first time in hours, a smile brightened Ginny’s tear-swollen face. “I’d like that.”

“And we’ll help you, won’t we, Trish?”

“We sure will.”

“My own business,” Ginny said, warming to the idea. “I like that thought. A lot.”

Angelica held out her hand. “Then it’s all for one.”

Tricia put hers on top. “And all-”

Ginny did likewise. “For one-me!”

Their combined hands bounced once-twice-three times before springing high into the air.

TWENTY-THREE

The bridal bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breath looked lovely against Grace’s soft pink linen suit, and the maid of honor’s bouquet was made of lavender chrysanthemums, which complimented her mauve, raw silk dress. Tricia also held a wadded tissue to wipe away the tears that filled her eyes. Weddings always made her cry.

Dressed in a dark suit, crisp white shirt, and navy tie, Mr. Everett wore a solemn expression as he slipped the simple gold band onto Grace’s waiting finger. “With this ring, I do thee wed.”

Judge Milton smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” To Mr. Everett, he said, “You may kiss your bride.”

A resounding round of applause broke out among the guests as Mr. Everett landed a gentle kiss on Grace’s lips-and promptly turned an attractive shade of pink.

Haven’t Got a Clue had never looked as lovely. White chrysanthemums and pale pink roses decorated the counters. Ginny had arrived early that morning with a bit of a hangover and many rolls of white crepe paper, which she’d artistically draped along the bookshelves. Angelica had set up a long, linen-draped table against the wall of nonfiction titles, and lavished it with hot and cold breakfast foods. Pale pink rosettes spiraled up Nikki Brimfield’s gorgeous three-tiered cake, which had taken up residence at the store’s coffee station. They’d chosen their initials, G and W, in brushed silver, for their cake topper.

Half an hour before the ceremony, Russ arrived with his camera to take posed and candid shots of the bride and groom and the cake. He kept looking at Ginny, who kept her distance, and Tricia warned him that he was not to talk to her about Pammy’s death, or what had occurred at the store the evening before. He frowned and instead took Tricia’s picture. And he kept making excuses to be near her-asking about the food, the decorations, and any other inane thing he could think of. Tricia was civil, but soon found other places to be.

Although appointed the honorary ring bearer, Miss Marple declined to participate in the ceremony, instead watching it from her perch on the shelf behind the register, purring all the while.

While Russ snapped pictures, Tricia stepped away from the happy couple, who were receiving best wishes from their guests. Everyone from the Tuesday Night Book Club was there, including Frannie, who kept showing anyone she could corner pictures of her new cat-just like any proud parent. Nikki Brimfield looked out of place in a skirt and blouse, instead of her white baker’s uniform, and Julia Overland had worn the same color as Tricia. Great minds did indeed think alike. As best man, Bob had for once forgone his Kelly green sports coat and donned a dark suit. He looked… weird… out of his usual uniform.

Tricia traded good wishes with her lawyer, Roger Livingston, and Lois Kerr from the library. Though the ceremony was over, Stuart Paige remained seated in one of the rented chairs, looking pale, but smiling, while his flunky, Turner, stood nearby, wearing sunglasses and still trying to look like a Secret Service agent.

Angelica flitted around the room with a silver tray filled with mini quiches, offering them to one and all.

Among the missing, of course, were Libby and Joe Hirt, and Brian Comstock. No surprises there.

Distracted by the crowd, Tricia was caught off guard when Russ insinuated himself next to her once again. “I’ve been trying to get you on your own for the past hour. Are you avoiding me?”

“You made your feelings toward me quite clear. And after what happened at the inn on Friday, I don’t think we have anything to say to one another.”

“I left several messages for you to call me before then. You ignored them.”

“Yes, I did.”

He frowned. “Okay, I admit I made a mistake in calling off-us.”

Tricia turned a level glare at him. “I take it you’ve had a change of plans?”

Russ frowned. “Okay, so the job in Philadelphia fell through. And I’ve decided not to put the paper up for sale. It looks like I won’t be leaving Stoneham after all.” He gave a weak laugh. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I was hoping we could… still be friends.”

Tricia said nothing.

“Actually, more than friends. Is there a chance things could go back to the way they were before I opened my big, stupid mouth?”

Tricia still said nothing.

“I’d like to think we could try.”

“You are asking a lot.”

The shop door opened, the little bell overhead ringing cheerfully. A stranger entered and paused. “I’m sorry. I thought the store was open today,” he said.

Tricia strode over to the door-anything to get away from Russ. “We’re opening late. As you can see, we’re hosting a wedding.”

Tricia did a double take. The man in front of her was Grant Baker. She hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. He looked… nice.

He also looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, already backing away.

“Don’t be silly. Come on in; have some coffee and a piece of wedding cake.”

He shook his head. “I only came to… to get a book.”

“I thought you didn’t read mysteries or true crime.”

“Maybe I decided to broaden my horizons.” He let the door close on his back and stepped closer to Tricia, lowering his voice. “Or… maybe I came just to see you. To see if you were free for dinner tonight.”

Tricia looked to her right and left. Was he actually speaking to her?

“Um…” At the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw Russ nearby, eavesdropping. Tricia smiled. “I think that would be very nice.”

“And I also wanted to tell you what you did for Pam Fredericks was decent and noble. Especially since you were only… sort of… friends.”

Tricia’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t mentioned this to anyone. How had he found out? “I don’t know what you mean,” she bluffed.

“Claiming her body, paying to have it buried. Apparently she wasn’t a very good friend to you, but you proved more than once you were probably the only true friend she ever had.”

Tricia grabbed his elbow, and pulled him away from the other guests. “How did you find out?” she hissed.

“You dealt with Baker Funeral Home, right? My cousin Glenn owns it.”

The breath caught in Tricia’s throat. “I assumed Mr. Baker would’ve been more discreet.”

“Don’t worry; he didn’t say a word. Our office was notified by the Medical Examiner when the body was released.”

Okay, she could believe that.

Angelica made a pass with her tray. “Hi, Captain Baker. Try one of these delicious spinach mini quiches.”

“Captain Baker?” Bob repeated, worry tingeing his voice-no doubt remembering Tricia’s threat to turn him in to the law. He stepped away-fast.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Baker said, taking an offered napkin and two of the quiches. He bit into one, chewed, and swallowed. “Hey, these are terrific.”

“Tricia helped make them,” Angelica said, beaming, then moved on to another guest.

“And you can cook, too,” he said, impressed.

Tricia shook her head and sighed. “My helping consisted of squeezing the water out of cold, wet spinach until it was dry. I’m not bragging when I tell you that I can barely boil water.”

Baker laughed, but his expression soon became serious again. He nodded toward Stuart Paige. “How did he get invited to this little shindig?”