Tricia chewed a bit of her scone and looked up, noticing Pixie still had one ear cocked in their direction. She swallowed, and picked up her teacup. “It seems to be a village habit.”

“All good-natured,” Karen assured her.

“Try one of these chocolate mousse treats. I made them myself,” Angelica said, offering the plate back to Karen.

She selected one and took a small bite, savored it for a moment, and swallowed. “Mmm. Delicious.”

“Have you officially put out your realty shingle?” Tricia asked.

“Yes.” Karen reached down for the purse at her feet, opened it, and withdrew several business cards. She handed one each to Tricia and Angelica.

“If you’d like to officially sign up for Chamber membership, I have the paperwork right here,” Angelica said, reaching for her own briefcase.

“I would, thank you.”

Angelica handed her a clipboard with the registration forms, as well as a ballpoint pen. She smiled. “It’s so nice to see a new business opening here in Stoneham. And nice that someone is giving Bob Kelly some real competition.”

“We wouldn’t be opening the agency if we didn’t feel there was a need in the community,” Karen said with conviction.

Angelica’s smile broadened. Tricia knew that smile—and didn’t for a minute trust it. Was it possible Angelica had suggested to Antonio—or even Nigela Ricita herself—that the development company should invest more of its time and assets in Stoneham . . . just to bug Bob?

Knowing Angelica, anything was possible.

EIGHT

Angelica was just as efficient at collecting her tea party paraphernalia as she’d been at disseminating it across Haven’t Got a Clue. Tricia and Pixie helped her take the boxes back to the Cookery, where she assured them that, thanks to her dumbwaiter, she could handle things from there on her own. She’d left all the leftovers for Pixie and Mr. Everett, who spent a pleasant half hour sharing their hopes that Angelica might stage more tea parties in the shop and on a regular basis. Tricia’s fridge was full with the rest of the leftovers that her employees planned to take home, as well.

The clouds seemed to press down harder on Stoneham as the day wound down. Tricia stood behind the cash desk, reading Ngaio Marsh’s Death in a White Tie, while Mr. Everett dozed in the readers’ nook and Pixie fussed with Sarah Jane in her carriage, strategically placing yet another Nancy Drew mystery in her tiny plastic hands.

All was peaceful. So when the phone rang, shattering the silence, all three of them started. Tricia grabbed the phone before it would shriek again. “Haven’t Got a Clue. This is Tricia. How may I help you?”

“By not mentioning me by name,” said Grace Harris-Everett, Mr. Everett’s bride of two years. “I don’t want William to know I’m calling.”

“Very well. What can I do for you?” Tricia said, playing along.

“Did you know that William has never had a birthday party?” Grace said, sounding appalled.

“No, I didn’t.”

“His birthday is on Valentine’s Day and I would dearly love to give him one, but I need help.”

“I’d be glad to offer my assistance,” Tricia said, hoping her words made it sound like this was an actual business call.

“Oh, good. Could you come over to my office to talk about it?”

Tricia turned her back on her employees and lowered her voice. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, he might see me enter your building.”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Perhaps we could meet on neutral ground,” Tricia suggested. “How about at the pub?”

“Oh, that sounds positively decadent. Yes, let’s meet there. How about in five minutes? Would that be convenient?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“I’d best get there first, in case William looks out the window and sees me. Can you keep him occupied for the next few minutes?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’ll see you there. Good-bye.”

“Thank you for calling,” Tricia said and hung up the phone as Pixie wandered up to the sales counter.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

Tricia decided not to admonish her for eavesdropping—not this time, at least. “Nothing much.”

Pixie gave her a suspicious look. Since Mr. Everett had his back turned to them, Tricia held a finger to her lips to indicate Pixie shouldn’t speak. Then she grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper and wrote: Don’t let on. Working on a surprise for Mr. Everett. Will tell you all about it later.

Pixie nodded and twisted an imaginary key to lock her lips.

Tricia smiled and nodded. “I need to run an errand. Do you think you can hold down the fort while I’m gone?”

“Sure thing,” Pixie said. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve been inundated with customers all day.”

Tricia looked out the window and saw Grace exit the building that not only housed the offices of the Everett Foundation, which Grace had established to distribute the money Mr. Everett had won from a Powerball lottery drawing, but was also where Angelica’s café, Booked for Lunch, resided.

“I’ll just get my coat and be on my way,” Tricia said.

“How long will you be gone?” Pixie asked.

“Not long. I’ll be back before we close for the day.”

“Okay.”

As Tricia left the store, she paused at the edge of the sidewalk and looked up. Sure enough, once again Christopher was standing in front of his office window. He waved, but this time Tricia didn’t wave back. He was spying on her.

She looked both ways before crossing the empty street. The wind was bitter cold, blowing tiny icy snowflakes into Tricia’s eyes. She squinted as she made her way to the Dog-Eared Page. When she opened its door, she was instantly enveloped in its cozy atmosphere. She hung up her coat and rubbed some warmth into her hands as she searched for Grace, who sat at a booth in the back.

Happy hour wasn’t set to begin for at least another hour, but already there were four people sitting at the old oak bar conversing with the pub’s manager, Michele Fowler. Michele waved a quick hello before she turned her attention back to her patrons.

Tricia hurried down the length of the pub and sidled into the booth, across from Grace.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she said. “I took the liberty of ordering cream sherry for the both of us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. But I was surprised to see you’re working on a Sunday.”

“Just catching up on paperwork while William is at work for you.”

Tricia nodded. “Now tell me, what are you planning for Mr. Everett’s party?”

“That’s just it—I haven’t had a chance to do anything as of yet. I only found out this morning that William has never had a birthday party, and that’s a crime for anyone nearing his seventy-eighth year on this earth.”

“How have you celebrated in the past?”

“For the past two years we’ve gone out for a quiet dinner. Ideally, I’d love to throw him the biggest, most lavish party Stoneham has ever seen, but I know he’d be embarrassed by the fuss and attention.”

“Last year Ginny bought cupcakes and we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ during a lag in business, which isn’t hard to do at this time of the year,” Tricia said, picked up her drink, and took a sip. The sherry was sweet and its warmth seemed to immediately spread through her. “How about dinner at the Brookview with just a few close friends?”

“That’s what I thought, too. Who do you think I should invite?”

“Ginny and Antonio, Pixie and me. It’s not a lot of people, but we’re all his friends. It would be a low-key celebration, but nice.”

“That’s an excellent idea. I wish my secretary hadn’t had her appendix out yesterday, otherwise she could have helped with the arrangements.”