“I’d be happy to contact them, find out, and pass along the word. I’d certainly be among those who’d like to show their respects.”
“Thank you,” Tricia said, and took another sip of her coffee.
“I saw Ginny yesterday,” Mr. Everett offered.
“So did I. Angelica and I are going to have dinner with her and Antonio tonight at the Brookview Inn.”
“That should be nice. I don’t suppose Ginny will have much time to socialize after the baby arrives, which should be any day now. Grace and I can’t wait to be his or her honorary grandparents.”
Oh, dear. Would he and Grace be offended if Angelica stepped into what everyone would think was an honorary position as well?
“Will you be babysitting?” she asked.
Mr. Everett looked surprised. “I shouldn’t think so. I would be frightened I might drop the baby.” He shook his head. “I believe we’ll just be around to spoil the child.” He nodded and smiled. “I think I’ll quite enjoy that.”
“I’m looking forward to being an honorary aunt, as well,” Tricia admitted. And now that honor hit a little closer to home. Honorary step-aunt? She frowned. Perhaps she’d just leave the step part out.
“Will you be babysitting?” Mr. Everett asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve changed a diaper only once before, but I suppose with practice I could get good at it. I think I’d prefer to take pictures and bring gifts.”
“You mean spoil the child—like Grace and me?”
Tricia laughed. “Definitely.”
Mr. Everett drained his cup, then looked at his watch. “It’s time for me to get to work at the Cookery. A lot of Internet orders came in late yesterday afternoon. As your sister uses the same software as you had at Haven’t Got a Clue, I’ll be up to speed to start fulfilling the orders on day one after we reopen.”
“I’ve tried to keep up with the inventory as I’ve purchased books for stock, but I’m afraid it’s gotten away from me.”
“Not to worry. Between the three of us, we’ll catch up before the grand reopening. I hope you don’t mind, but Pixie and I have been drawing up a list of ideas for the celebration.”
“Mind? I’m thrilled. Perhaps the three of us—and Grace, if she’d like to listen to shop talk—can get together for lunch to talk about it.”
“That would be lovely,” Mr. Everett said, and stood. He took Tricia’s empty cup and disposed of it and his in one of the park’s trash barrels.
They crossed the lush grass, heading for Main Street. “I’ll see you soon,” Mr. Everett promised, giving Tricia a nod.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said, and they parted company, Tricia headed north and Mr. Everett went south.
As Tricia briskly walked back to the Chamber office, she pondered what Selectman Winkler could have done to upset Mr. Everett all those years ago, and wondered if she would ever know.
TWELVE
E-mail seemed to have piled up while she’d been on the phone, but she decided to tackle it after lunch.
Even though Angelica wasn’t going to be available, Tricia knew her sister would have made sure her usual tuna plate was ready as a to-go order at Booked for Lunch. So much for remembering to order something different. As she walked along Main Street, Tricia noticed several of the shopkeepers looking through their windows at her and waving, their faces covered in silly smirks. No doubt they’d heard about Christopher leaving the Chamber office in his pajamas—perhaps they’d even witnessed him walking down the street. He probably hadn’t had the sense to take the back alley.
Still, Tricia walked on, her head held high. She had nothing to feel ashamed of. Christopher had been the jerk who’d pushed his way into her temporary home, and nothing naughty had happened. And even if it had, it was nobody else’s business.
Booked for Lunch was packed with tourists, and Pixie was waiting on a table in back when Tricia arrived. Bev, the full-time waitress, refilled a customer’s coffee, her smile broadening when she saw Tricia.
“Hey there, stranger. We missed seeing you yesterday, but then I guess you’ve been busy,” she said, and giggled.
“I had lunch with Ginny yesterday. I picked up our take-out orders,” she reminded Bev.
“Oh, yes—that’s right. It’s just that—”
“I have to get back to work,” Tricia interrupted. “I’ll just take my lunch to go.”
Bev retrieved the salad from the small under-the-counter fridge and transferred it to a foam container. “Enjoy. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she said with a smirk.
Tricia said nothing and left the café.
This time, Tricia didn’t look right or left as she trudged back up the street toward the Chamber office. Instead of eating at her desk, she choked down her lunch at the little bistro table in the small kitchen, just in case Mariana wanted a little more fun at her expense. Afterward, she went back to her desk to attack the ever-multiplying e-mails.
It was after two, and Mariana was on her way back from the storage closet with another ream of paper for the printer, when she said, “Pixie’s late today.”
Tricia glanced at the clock. Sure enough, it was nearly ten after two. “Booked for Lunch was packed a while ago. Pixie might have had to stay late to help clean up.”
Her speculation was proved wrong when Pixie arrived at the Chamber office five minutes later, carrying a cardboard tray with the Coffee Bean’s distinctive cups and one of their bags, no doubt filled with biscotti or muffins.
“Sorry I’m late, but I figured you ladies wouldn’t complain if I brought a treat for all of us.”
“Pixie, you spoil us,” Mariana said, but she sounded pleased nonetheless.
“And it’s fun to do,” Pixie said, her smile wide, her gold canine tooth flashing. She passed out cups and napkins. The muffins were apple raisin, which pleased Tricia. She was becoming adept at convincing herself that anything that contained fruit could be considered healthy.
“Did you hear what happened last night?” Pixie asked, her eyes wide, practically gushing.
“You mean this morning?” Mariana asked, giving Tricia the eye.
“No, it was definitely last night,” Pixie said with confidence. “Janet Koch over at the Historical Society was mugged. Mugged! Right here in Stoneham!” she cried.
“Mugged? Where did it happen?” Tricia asked, alarmed.
“I guess she was working late at the Historical Society and someone jumped her when she was leaving.”
“Is she all right?” Tricia asked, aghast.
Pixie shook her head.
“She’s not—” Tricia couldn’t even bring herself to say the D word.
“No,” Pixie said, “but whoever hit her left her for dead. She was found by the Society’s groundskeeper this morning. She’s at the hospital in Nashua in a coma with a fractured skull.”
“Will she live?” Tricia asked, nearly on the verge of tears. She liked Janet.
Pixie shrugged. “I guess it’s too soon to tell. Poor lady. Alexa”—one of the Coffee Bean’s owners—“says she’s a nice person.”
“That she is,” Tricia sadly agreed, looking down at her muffin. She’d lost her appetite. Poor Janet. And her attack, coming on the heels of Pete’s murder . . . There had to be a connection.
“What have you got for me to do today, Tricia?” Pixie asked.
Before Tricia could answer, Mariana piped up. “I could use some help with the Member Appreciation Day invitations, if you don’t mind, Tricia.”