“You could learn to arrange flowers. I could teach you.”

“You’re stretched too thin as it is,” Tricia said, which was true.

“You’re right.” Angelica sighed. “Okay, how do I get down from here?”

Tricia stepped back and grabbed Angelica’s left hand, helping her down. “I guess I’d better carry the ladder,” Angelica said, and proceeded to fold it for transport.

Sarge, who’d been sitting patiently, was eager to take off, and he had to be restrained when they only went as far as the next lamppost. Angelica unfolded the ladder, took a deep breath, and climbed the first step. “I can do this,” she muttered, and took the next step. Half a minute later, she was engrossed in her second floral arrangement.

By the time they’d finished the fifth basket, Angelica seemed to have forgotten her fear of heights. “You know, maybe Nigela Ricita Associates should open a floral shop here in Stoneham.”

“You wouldn’t want to hurt the Milford Nursery’s bottom line, would you, especially after you encouraged them to join our Chamber of Commerce?”

“I guess you’re right,” Angelica said. “If it ever got out that I was Nigela, it could look like a conflict of interest.”

They did another two baskets before they ran out of silk flowers.

“Oh, dear,” Angelica said. “If you’ve hit all the local stores, what are we going to do about all the other baskets?”

“Maybe you could order some online and pay for express shipping?”

“That means we wouldn’t see them until at least Friday.”

“It beats bald baskets,” Tricia said.

“I guess,” Angelica said with resignation.

Suddenly Sarge’s ears perked up and he began to growl, straining at the leash. Tricia looked up the road and saw a figure advancing toward them. “Ange,” she whispered nervously, wondering, should the need arise, if they could defend themselves with the stepladder.

“Tricia!”

Tricia immediately recognized the voice: Christopher.

“What on earth are you two doing skulking around the village at this time of night?” he demanded.

“Replacing the flowers,” Angelica said, and scooped up a still-growling Sarge before he could start barking and wake the neighborhood. “What are you doing up this time of night?” she asked, inspecting his attire: a jacket over what looked like silk pajamas.

“I was thirsty and got up for a drink. I looked out the window and saw you two.”

“If you’d looked five minutes later, we’d have been gone,” Tricia said.

Christopher looked up at the hanging basket above them. “Why did you need to replace the flowers?”

“Because someone has snipped every last bloom,” Angelica explained.

“Then how—?”

“They’re fake,” Tricia explained.

“Silk,” Angelica insisted.

Christopher again looked up to take in Angelica’s handiwork and shrugged. “Oh.”

“What are you doing here?” Tricia asked.

“I told you.”

“Yes, but what compelled you to come down to check on us?”

“There’s a murderer running around here. You girls shouldn’t be out on the street in the middle of the night.”

“We’re women, not girls,” Tricia reminded him.

“And we have Sarge to protect us,” Angelica asserted, and the little dog growled in agreement.

“That little squirt? He’s hardly protection,” Christopher said.

“No, but he can bark up a storm if he feels we’re threatened,” Tricia said.

“Well, I’d feel better if you two would let me walk you home—that is if you’re ready to call it a night.”

“Since we’re out of flowers, I certainly am,” Angelica said.

“Me, too,” Tricia agreed.

“Good.” Christopher reached for the ladder, folded it, and then carried it as he led the way back to the Cookery. Angelica took out her key and unlocked the door. “Where do you want me to put the ladder?” Christopher asked.

“Just leave it inside the door. I’ll put it away in the morning.”

Tricia handed over the empty bags and the flashlight. “I’ll see you at the Chamber office in the morning.”

“If I remember correctly, we have nothing going on, so I might not make it in until the afternoon.”

“I’ll see you then,” Tricia said, and gave her sister a brief hug before Angelica entered the Cookery and locked the door.

Tricia turned to find Christopher standing before her with a big dumb grin across his face. “I can walk back to the Chamber without an escort,” she assured him.

“I don’t get to play good guy very often these days,” he said. “And I’ll sleep much better if I know you’re safe.”

Tricia looked down the well-lit, empty street and sighed. “Suit yourself.” She turned and started off at a brisk pace. Christopher had to jog a few steps to catch up.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“You think so?” she asked, not bothering to look at him.

“Yes. Ten years ago you needed me.”

“Ten years ago I thought we needed each other.”

“Ten years ago I was arrogant. Five years ago I was even more arrogant.”

“And now?” she asked, looking askance at him as they walked.

“I hope I’ve learned humility.”

“You? Humble?” she asked, skeptical.

“Yes. I thought I could move to the mountains and live alone, but all I could think about was you.”

“Funny, it took several years before you contacted me.”

“I was living in denial.”

Tricia stopped suddenly. “You’ve got some nerve coming here, bugging me, suggesting we get back together.”

“It’s because I realized I still love you.”

“I suppose it was a case of ‘you don’t know what you’ve got until you lose it’?”

“That’s right. And now I want to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t go back in time and rectify things.”

“And I can’t keep apologizing for the biggest mistake in my life, either.”

“Why not?” Tricia asked.

“It hasn’t done much good so far.”

She stared at him for a long moment before she started off again. At the corner, she looked both ways, even though no cars had passed by in more than an hour, and crossed the street with Christopher following.

They didn’t speak until they approached the Chamber office. “I can take it from here,” Tricia said.

“I’ll see you in,” he insisted.

As they approached the side door, the motion-detector light clicked on, blazing. Tricia fumbled in her jacket pocket for her keys, finding them and then selecting the proper one to unlock the door. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“I’d feel better knowing there’s no one inside. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait and make sure there’s no one lurking in the shadows.”

She sighed.

“A man was killed only two days ago,” he reminded her.

“All right,” she reluctantly agreed. Christopher followed her inside the house. Once inside, Tricia turned on the lights, first leading him into the kitchen, then showing him the empty conference room, and finally the living room. “There. I’m safe and sound.”

“We haven’t checked upstairs.”

“I don’t think we need to,” Tricia said firmly.

“I insist,” Christopher said, and before she could stop him, he’d pivoted, opened the door to the stairway, and headed for the second floor.

“Wait!” she called, but he ignored her, bounding up the darkened stairs. Once at the top, he fumbled for a light switch. The overhead light glowed.

“Christopher,” Tricia called, pounding after him.

He was already in her bedroom when she arrived at the landing. “Get out!” she shouted.

“Nobody in there,” he said, turned on another light and inspected the tiny bathroom. “Or there.” He pushed past her, heading for her sitting room. He turned on the light and stood in the center of the room. Miss Marple had been sleeping on the room’s only chair, a wingback decked in pastel floral upholstery. The cat blinked up at him, and said, “Yow!”

“Yes, it is late,” Christopher told her. “But I just wanted to make sure you and your mom are safe.” He turned back to face Tricia. “You can’t blame me for that.”