“Apparently it was quite a shock. Patty said he’s been walking around like a zombie. Before the wedding, he and Nikki never talked about starting a family. He told Patty he thought they were both past it. Now he’s worried about money. If Nikki sells the Patisserie, she won’t make much on the deal. She owes too much and has almost nothing in equity. And ad revenue is down at the Stoneham Weekly News, too.”

“Oh, dear,” Tricia said. “It seems like the two of them never get a break.”

“I wonder if I should talk to Nikki,” Angelica mused.

“And say what? That you think she should keep her business?”

“She doesn’t have to be on the premises twelve hours a day to keep it and make a profit. My success with the Cookery is proof of that.”

“She wants to be a stay-at-home mom.”

“Right now she does, but how will she feel when the little tyke is ready for school?” Angelica asked.

“Maybe she’ll have a couple more kids by then,” Tricia said.

“Or maybe in the future Russ will take a more active role with birth control.”

“Now that’s a subject I don’t want to get into,” Tricia said, remembering her earlier conversation with Pixie. She looked at her watch. “I’d better get back to my store. Do you want me to take anything over to Haven’t Got a Clue for your afternoon tea?” she asked as she got up from her seat at the counter, shrugged into her jacket, and donned her hat.

“Thanks, but Tommy and I can handle it,” Angelica said and rose from her seat. “I’m going to change and I’ll be at your place in about half an hour.”

Tricia nodded, waved, and exited the café. She had to wait for a lone car to pass, and then crossed the street. Before she opened the door to Haven’t Got a Clue, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle and turned to look up at Christopher’s third-floor office window. Sure enough, he stood there, as if waiting for her. He waved and, although disconcerted, she found herself waving back before she hurried into her store. She didn’t like living in a fishbowl.

*   *   *

Angelica was as good as her word. Within half an hour, she and her short-order cook had assembled several plastic-wrapped trays on the beverage counter at Haven’t Got a Clue. “Want me to help set things up?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, please,” Angelica said and then dispatched Tricia to make a pot of tea. By the time Tricia arrived back at the shop, the readers’ nook had undergone a complete transformation. The dog-eared issues of Mystery Scene magazine had disappeared, and the big square table sported a linen tablecloth with three settings of a beautiful pink rose-patterned china upon it and a matching three-tiered plate filled with delectable goodies: finger sandwiches, scones, and what looked like handmade dainty chocolate cups filled with mousse and crowned with fresh raspberries—at this time of year?

Tricia set the teapot down on the table and looked at her watch. “If your Realtor doesn’t arrive soon, the tea will be stewed.”

As if on cue, the shop door opened, the little bell above it tinkling merrily, and all eyes turned to see who’d entered. The tall, handsome black woman with a blue wool coat and matching fur-trimmed hat spoke. “Ms. Miles?”

Tricia and Angelica both piped up, “Yes?”

Angelica turned her head to glare at Tricia, and then back to the visitor. “I’m Angelica Miles. You must be Karen Johnson. Please come in.”

Pixie and Mr. Everett, who’d been hanging around and watching the food setup with hungry eyes, turned away, heading in different directions, trying to look busy.

“May I take your coat?” Tricia asked.

“Thank you,” Karen said and began to unbutton it. Under it she wore a pink wool suit and black knee-high leather boots. She took off her hat, revealing close-cropped natural hair, and handed it, too, to Tricia.

“Won’t you sit down?” Angelica asked, offering Karen the seat of her choice. She took the one that faced west, overlooking Main Street.

Tricia headed for the back of the store to hang up the coat, noting the hat’s fur trim was real—mink, by the feel of it. By the time she returned, Angelica was also seated, and pouring the tea. “Karen, this is my sister, Tricia. She owns Haven’t Got a Clue.”

“It’s a charming store,” Karen said with admiration. “I love what you’ve done with its restoration.”

Tricia felt a blush warm her cheeks. She never tired of hearing praise for her store. “Thank you.”

“I must admit, the first time I set eyes on Stoneham, several years ago, I wasn’t the least bit impressed, but it sure has changed—and for the better,” Karen continued.

“Thank you,” Angelica said, accepting the credit and causing Tricia to frown. “In summer, there are pots of flowers in front of all the stores. It’s really very lovely. Last year we were a runner-up as one of the prettiest villages in New Hampshire.”

“I’ve seen the pictures on the village website,” Karen said, picking up the sugar tongs and adding two cubes to her cup. Angelica (or had it been Tommy?) had piped dainty pastel flowers on each of them. Karen picked up her spoon and gently stirred the tea. “Everything looks lovely. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Angelica said. “I’m so pleased to welcome NRA Realty to the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce. Have you decided where to set up your offices?”

“For the moment, I’ll be operating out of one of the bungalows at the Brookview Inn, but I hope it’s only temporary. Ideally, Ms. Ricita would like the business to own its own building, but that’s problematical at this point.”

“Bob Kelly doesn’t want to rent space to the Chamber. I’m almost positive he won’t want to rent to his direct competition,” Angelica said.

“I’ve called and left messages, but it’s been difficult pinning the man down,” Karen admitted.

“What are your plans for the agency?” Tricia asked.

Karen turned her attention to Tricia. “My team and I will visit everyone in the village who has a Kelly Realty sign on their lawn or window and ask them if their business needs are being met.”

“You have a team?” Tricia asked.

“Right now, just a receptionist. But Ms. Ricita intends to branch out into neighboring towns. She feels there’s a real need in the area that isn’t being properly addressed.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Angelica piped up, and passed the plate of finger sandwiches to Karen, who took one of the salmon sandwiches. Angelica selected an egg salad sandwich, a scone, and one of the chocolate goodies. When the plate made its way to Tricia she selected tuna, happy to finally get her lunch.

Angelica picked up her cup and took a sip. “I want the Chamber of Commerce to sign on as your very first client. We’ve had a devil of a time finding office space.”

Karen sobered. “Yes, I heard what happened yesterday. Very unsettling.”

“It happens all the time around here,” Pixie said from her post at the cash desk.

As one, Tricia and Angelica turned to glare at her. Pixie found somewhere else to look. Tricia turned back to Karen. “That’s my assistant, Pixie Poe.”

“Oh? Related to the mystery master Edgar Allan Poe?”

“So she says,” Angelica said sweetly, and promptly changed the subject. “How long do you think it will take for you to wrestle up some clients willing to sell or lease?”

Karen looked thoughtful. “That depends on how long they’ve signed with Kelly Realty and if they’re happy. Although from the grumblings I’ve already heard around the village, people aren’t at all happy with Mr. Kelly—especially his tenants here on Main Street.”

“You’ve already spoken with them?” Tricia asked and selected a raisin scone. Angelica had thoughtfully provided sweet butter, clotted cream, and raspberry jam to go with them.

Karen smiled. “Last evening I visited that cute little tavern across the street. The manager treated me to a drink on the house and we had a very nice chat. Some of her customers eavesdropped and offered their own opinions.”