Tricia stepped forward and picked up the cat, which nestled its head against her chin and began to purr with enthusiasm. “Thank you for being here, Miss Marple. At this moment, I need a kitty hug.” Miss Marple did not hug back, but her obvious affection helped Tricia to feel calmer.

All too soon, Miss Marple jumped down from Tricia’s embrace. Just as well. Tricia was going to be late meeting Angelica. She grabbed her keys, made sure she left the outside light switched on, and left the house. It would be late when she returned from Pete’s wake—or from replacing the silk flowers. Would Bob be waiting for her? She tried not to think about it as she made her way down Main Street toward the Cookery.

The store had been closed a good half hour before Tricia arrived. She unlocked the door and let herself in. By the time she climbed the stairs to Angelica’s loft, she heard Sarge announcing her arrival with shrill barks and remembered that she’d forgotten to grab one of his dog biscuits before leaving the Chamber office. Oh well, she’d give him two the next time she saw him.

“Hello!” she called over the sound of barking. Once Sarge realized who the intruder was, his barking immediately switched from menace to welcome.

“Come on back to the kitchen,” Angelica hollered.

Tricia cautiously made her way down the hall with Sarge bouncing along at her side. As they entered the kitchen, Angelica said, “Hush!”

The barking immediately stopped, and Sarge looked at Tricia with hopeful eyes, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “I forgot his biscuit.”

“You know where I keep them,” Angelica said, and Tricia helped herself to one from the canister on the counter. Sarge sat up pretty and accepted the biscuit, then scurried off to his bed to enjoy it.

“What’s for dinner?” Tricia asked as Angelica piped yolk mixture into half of an egg.

“Just leftovers from the café, I’m afraid. Salads mostly. And we had a lot of eggs left over, so I’m making deviled eggs.”

“Quite a few. What’s that, two dozen halves?”

Angelica nodded. “I thought I could take them to the Dog-Eared Page for Pete’s wake later on.”

“Good idea,” Tricia said. “Who told you about the wake?”

“Nobody. I kind of suggested it.”

“You did?”

“Well, Michele Fowler is the one who got the word around. I just put a bug in her ear.”

“She said Nigela Ricita authorized eats for Pete’s wake.”

Angelica shrugged. “Sad people drink too much. We don’t want anyone to get drunk, have an accident, and sue us.”

That sounded like the words of a businesswoman, but Tricia didn’t believe it for a minute. Angelica equated food with love. It was so like her to want to feed people—especially those who were grieving.

“What kind of a day did you have?”

“Busy. I had lunch with Michele at the Stoneham Rural Cemetery.”

“Not my kind of lunch venue,” Angelica said, wrinkling her nose.

“It was quite nice, actually. She already knows quite a bit of local history—and good gossip, too.”

“And what was the occasion?”

“She doesn’t want me talking to anyone about the ghost walks.”

“And so you’re telling me,” Angelica said, looking up from her handiwork.

“You won’t repeat it. She’s worried that whoever killed Pete and came after Janet might mark her next.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Angelica moved on to another egg half. “Anything happen at the Chamber today that I should know about?”

“Everything’s putting along just fine, but I did have a bit of a scare just before I came here. Bob came to visit me, and he wasn’t friendly.”

Angelica looked up. “What do you mean?”

“He shoved a sales contract for my building in my face, and when I wouldn’t sign, he slammed his fist into the side of the house.”

“Bob threatened you?” Angelica repeated incredulously.

Tricia nodded. “And he meant to frighten me. He’s determined not to go to jail. He said he might be forced to do something stupid. What do you think that means?”

Angelica shrugged. “I don’t know. Liquidate his assets?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Angelica said. “Bob’s family had nothing. Everything he has he earned through hard work.” She shook her head. “It upsets me to think he threatened you. I didn’t think he would stoop that low.”

“I’ll admit, I was actually afraid.”

“Have you told Grant Baker about this encounter?” Angelica said, and piped the remaining yolk mixture into the last egg half.

“No, it happened just before I left to come here. But maybe I should.”

“What about Christopher?”

“No. And I don’t want you telling him, either.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have someone tall and imposing to act as your bodyguard for a few days or weeks,” Angelica said, and bent down to retrieve paprika from her spice stash.

“No,” Tricia reiterated.

“All right. I’ll promise not to tell him, but only if you do speak to Grant. Now, promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good. I’m sure we can get a couple of people to walk you home after the wake. Perhaps Antonio, if he shows up,” Angelica said, and sprinkled a good measure of paprika over the eggs.

“Why wouldn’t he come?”

“Oh, Ginny had an upset stomach this afternoon. He may not want to leave her . . . just in case it’s time for the baby to arrive.”

“Oh, dear. Keep me posted, will you?”

“Of course.”

“I hear you spoke to the Koslovs about their camera.”

Angelica nodded and pulled the plastic wrap from one of the drawers. “Boris wasn’t keen to set it up, but Alexa is furious about the flowers being destroyed. She had him set it up right outside their door, so I thought we could start there with our replanting.”

“Fine with me.”

“Good.” She covered the eggs and put them into the fridge. “Now, let’s eat. We don’t want to be late for Pete’s wake. I’ll pass the leftovers and you can choose what you want.”

Tricia stood to receive the bounty and was nearly overwhelmed by the foam containers Angelica handed her—five in all. Tricia placed them on the big granite island and opened them. Angelica hadn’t been kidding when she said salads. Egg salad, tuna salad, ham salad, chicken salad, and a leafy green salad.

Angelica supplied plates, serving spoons, forks, and a couple of rolls. “Dig in.”

Tricia picked up a spoon and doled out greens, then topped them with a small helping from each of the other salads. “This is my second picnic of the day,” she said.

“Picnics to me mean fun,” Angelica said. “Nothing to do with the pressures of the day, just relaxation.” She held up a finger. “Hang on, I forgot the best part.” She reached into the cupboard behind her and bought out a bag of barbeque potato chips.

“Good Lord—the calories!” Tricia cried.

“You don’t have to eat any,” Angelica said, opening the bag and spilling some onto her plate.

“The hell I don’t,” Tricia said, and took the bag from her sister, dumping a small portion onto her waiting plate. Then she paused, staring at the bag and the bounty before her. “This reminds me of the time Grandma Miles took just the two of us to Cove Island Park.”

“I remember,” Angelica gushed. “Oh, we had so much fun that day. She brought along a couple of plastic bottles of bubbles, and we blew them at each other until we were both sticky.”

Tricia smiled. “You know, I think that’s my happiest childhood memory.”

“Really?” Angelica asked.

Tricia nodded. “At the time, Grandma was the person I loved the best, and now it’s you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Angelica said, and grabbed one of the rolls.

“I’m not. I’m being honest.”

“I’m sorry to say that it took us both too long to appreciate each other. But you know, now that you know about my secret life, I think we could have a helluva good time together.”

“You want to share it with me?”

“I thought I made that clear the other day. And now with Antonio and Ginny and their kids . . . Just think of the fun we all could have.” She eyed Tricia with a sly grin. “Are you game?”