“But you don’t look very happy right now. Is it the job?” Tricia prompted, since Ginny didn’t seem to be in a hurry to explain.

Again Ginny shook her head. Her gaze fell and her lower lip trembled, and then she nodded. “I guess it is my job I’m worried about.” She nodded once more. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I’m afraid I’m going to lose the Happy Domestic.”

“Why? I thought it was doing well. That you were in the black and your boss, Nigela Ricita, was very happy with your work.”

“She is. Or so Antonio tells me.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The kettle chose that moment to come to a boil, and Tricia turned her attention to the cocoa at hand, pouring the water into the cups and mixing the contents with spoons. She grabbed a couple of paper napkins from the holder, set them on the kitchen island, and placed the mugs on them.

Tricia waited, but Ginny didn’t seem able to meet her gaze.

“Ginny, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Ginny looked up, her eyes filling with tears, her face screwing into an expression of total misery. “I’m . . . I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Tricia cried and leapt forward to embrace her friend. “That’s wonderful. Oh, I’m so happy for both of you.”

But Ginny didn’t move. She stood rock still.

Tricia pulled back, studying Ginny’s face. “This is wonderful news. Why aren’t you happy?”

“Part of me is happy,” she cried, “but most of me didn’t plan for this to happen for another couple of years.”

“What does Antonio think about it?”

Ginny looked away. “I haven’t told him.”

“Oh, Ginny.”

Ginny waved her hands in the air as though to stop an oncoming scolding. “I can’t tell him. Not when I feel this way.”

“Okay, so the timing isn’t what you’d originally planned, but you’ll make the best mama in all of Stoneham.”

“But what about the Happy Domestic?” she cried.

“What about it?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it belongs to me. Maybe not on paper, but I’ve put my heart and soul into that store.”

“And you’ve done a wonderful job—”

“But what if they take it away from me?”

“Who?”

“Antonio and Nigela Ricita.”

“Why would they take it away from you?”

“Because,” she said and sat down at the island, placing her hands around the steaming mug, “I just have this feeling . . . maybe it’s the name of the store . . . the Happy Domestic. I don’t want them to force me to be just a housewife.”

“What makes you think they’d do that?”

“Let’s face it; the former owner didn’t have a happy domestic life. She and her husband fought about the business after their son arrived. And then a plane dropped out of the sky and killed her. What if the place is cursed?”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be the village jinx, not you,” Tricia reminded Ginny.

“Deborah Black wasn’t good at juggling her business and her home life. What if I can’t do it, either?”

Tricia sighed, exasperated. “I have faith in you. And if you’ll let them, I’m sure Antonio and Nigela Ricita will, too.”

Ginny picked up her cup, blew on the hot liquid, and took a tiny sip. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. The timing just isn’t right.”

“You weren’t thinking of . . .” Tricia found she couldn’t even say the words.

Ginny raised her gaze just a trifle, looking guilty. “I did . . . for about a second and a half. This is something I want. But not right now.”

“Why did you tell me first?” Tricia asked. “Are you looking for advice?”

“Not exactly,” Ginny admitted, taking another sip. “I know what you’re going to say: ‘Talk to Antonio.’”

“He is your husband,” Tricia reminded her.

“Like I could forget that,” Ginny said with a shadow of her old laugh.

“Talk to him. I’m sure your fears are all blown out of proportion. It’s probably the hormones.”

Ginny shrugged, and drank more of her cocoa. “I feel so selfish.”

“Motherhood is a big responsibility,” Tricia said. “It will change your life, but not for the worse.”

“You think?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Ginny nodded wearily and tipped her head to take in the last of her cocoa. “I really need to get back to my store.”

“Me, too.”

The women set their dirty mugs in the sink and Ginny retrieved her coat before they headed to the stairs that took them back to Haven’t Got a Clue. Still seated in a chair in the nook, Pixie looked up over the top of her book. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” Tricia said and forced a smile. Before she and Ginny made it halfway to the exit, the door burst open and Nikki Brimfield-Smith entered.

“I’ve got the most wonderful news!” she cried, zeroing in on Tricia and rushing forward. “Russ and I are having a baby!”

Stunned, Tricia stood rock still with her mouth agape. Ginny, the poor soul, burst into tears.

Nikki appeared unsure of herself. “Isn’t anyone going to say anything?”

“Congratulations,” Tricia managed, but Ginny made a break for the door Nikki had just entered. She and Tricia watched as Ginny slammed the door behind her.

Nikki frowned. “She could have at least pretended to be happy for us.”

“I’m sure she is,” Tricia said, “but Ginny is pretty upset this morning. If you’d told her the moon was made of green cheese she probably would have had the same reaction.”

Nikki stared at the closed door, miffed, then turned back to Tricia. “And what do you think about my news?”

Tricia forced a smile. “I think it’s terrific. How far along are you?”

“Two months.”

“Have you picked out any names?” she asked, trying to sound thrilled.

“We won’t even consider names until after we find out the baby’s gender.”

Tricia nodded. She wasn’t sure what to say next.

“Since I found out earlier this morning, all I can think about is selling the Patisserie and becoming a stay-at-home mom.”

“Oh,” was all Tricia could think of to say.

“You don’t think I should?” Nikki challenged, not sounding at all sure herself.

“You should do whatever makes you happy. But are you sure you want to do that? You trained so hard to become a pastry chef. You worked so hard to take possession of the bakery.”

“Nothing is more important to us than giving our child the most nurturing environment. And that means devoting my entire life to him or her.”

The door opened and an older man entered, his cheeks chapped from the wind. He paused, pulled off a pair of brown leather gloves, and retrieved a slip of paper from his coat pocket. “Can someone help me find these books?”

Pixie was about to get up from her chair, but Tricia shook her head and she sat back down. Likewise, Mr. Everett, who’d been about to bound forward, did an abrupt about-face.

“I’d be glad to.” Tricia turned back to Nikki. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a customer—and as I’m sure you already know, they seem to be a rarity these days. Congratulations to both you and Russ. You’ll make fine parents.”

Nikki frowned and turned for the door without another word. She’d obviously expected a more enthusiastic reception to her announcement. Shoulders slumped, she left the shop without another word and quietly closed the door behind her.

Tricia sighed. Two women, two announcements—two very different reactions. And Tricia found she didn’t envy either Ginny or Nikki.

*   *   *

The morning’s only customer turned out to be a good one. After browsing for just under an hour, he’d purchased nearly three hundred dollars’ worth of books. Since it was nearly their lunchtime anyway, Mr. Everett and Pixie helped carry the books to the customer’s car before they headed off for the Bookshelf Diner to eat.

Tricia settled behind the cash desk, determined to battle the pile of paperwork before her when the shop door opened once again. This time, it was not a customer but Christopher Benson, Tricia’s ex-husband, who’d taken up residence across the street in the apartment over the Nigela Ricita Associates office where he worked.