“That was a nice speech Angelica gave,” Christopher very nearly hollered over the din.

“Yes.” Tricia didn’t want to make eye contact and looked around the person standing in front of her, hoping there would still be cake by the time she made it to the table.

“I thought I might run into you here, Trish.”

She said nothing, still staring ahead.

“I wanted to apologize again for the other night.”

“I forgive you,” Tricia said, still not looking at him.

“Can we talk?”

Finally she turned to him. “We are.”

“I mean really talk.”

“It seems like all we do is spar.”

“We need to clear the air.”

A man juggling a plate of food moved past them, allowing Tricia to step forward. Maybe she should just let Christopher talk and get it out of his system. Then maybe she could finally convince him that she wasn’t interested in resuming any kind of relationship with him.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’m sitting with Grace and Mr. Everett. Once they leave, I’ll talk to you.”

Christopher immediately brightened. “Thanks, Trish. I’ll leave you alone until then.”

“Thank you.”

Christopher stepped away, heading for the bar.

“What a crowd,” the woman next to Tricia grumbled. “I had no idea Pete had so many friends.” The woman was attractive, albeit a little overweight, but she knew how to dress to overcome that obstacle. Her hair was a pleasant shade of blonde, and the makeup she wore accentuated her pretty blue eyes, downplaying the wrinkles from years of smiles.

“Me, either,” Tricia said.

“Were you a long-time friend of Pete’s?” the woman asked.

Tricia shook her head. “I only met him in March. My shop burned down. While I wait for the insurance company to pay my claim, I’m volunteering at the Chamber of Commerce. My sister is its president.”

“How nice. I mean about your sister. You must own the mystery store.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I met Pete during the restoration of the garden behind the Historical Society.”

“It’s lovely. I was just there the other day.”

Several people peeled away from the eats table, and Tricia and the woman were able to advance two steps closer.

“It was a lot of work to get it back to the way it was when Hiram Stone lived in the house, and it will take a lot of work to keep it that way, but well worth it.”

“It’s very peaceful. Before her”—Tricia hesitated—“accident, Janet Koch said Pete’s ashes would likely be scattered there.”

The woman’s smile was bittersweet. “He’d like that. He loved that house and the garden. I hope Pete rests in peace.”

“Me, too,” Tricia agreed with regret.

“I’m sorry. I should introduce myself. I’m Julia Harrison.” The woman offered Tricia her hand, and they shook.

“Tricia Miles.”

Julia Harrison—the woman Mariana had told Tricia about—just the person she had been hoping to meet. But how could she ask Julia about the relationship she’d never quite forged with Pete? She thought about it for a moment before an idea came to her.

“Pete was a sweetheart, but such a flirt,” Tricia said, and shook her head, plastering what she hoped was a wry smile across her lips.

Julie laughed and shook her head, too.

Another few people—plates heaped with food—turned away from the table and sidled through the crowd. Tricia and Julia stepped forward once again.

“What’s so funny?” Tricia asked.

“Pete. He was a great guy. Had a wonderful personality, but had an Achilles heel when it came to dating.”

“Oh?” Tricia asked.

“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but—” Julia leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He suffered from ED.”

For a moment Tricia was befuddled. Ed?

Julia seemed to note her confusion and whispered, “Erectile dysfunction.”

Tricia’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Julia nodded sadly. “Pete and I dated for a while. He was such a joy to be with. We could talk forever about the Historical Society, art, food, music—just about everything. But when it came to intimacy, we ran up against a brick wall.”

“But there are medications for that,” Tricia said.

“That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t even consider it. He was too embarrassed to discuss it with even his doctor.” She shook her head sadly. “I may have hit the big five-oh, but I’m not dead yet. It broke us apart.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was, too, but I got back into the dating game and met a great guy. I don’t know if we’ll end up together for the rest of our lives, but we enjoy each other’s company and have fun—in and out of the sack.” Julia giggled.

So, Pete’s flirting was just an over-the-top attempt to make people believe he was some kind of lothario when in fact he was ashamed of a treatable medical condition. Tricia felt even sorrier for the poor man.

Finally, the last few people ahead of Tricia moved away from the decimated food table. Tricia was able to snag the last piece of carrot cake for Grace. She grabbed a plastic fork and some napkins while Julia scored a deviled egg, a roll, and a slice each of ham and cheese.

“It was nice to meet you, Julia.”

“Same here. I’ll make a point to visit your store when you reopen.”

“Thank you,” Tricia said, and turned, heading back for the table.

“Here you go,” she said, handing Grace the plate.

“Thank you, dear,” Grace said, and cut a small piece of cake. She sampled it and closed her eyes in bliss. When she swallowed, she said, “This has got to be the best carrot cake I’ve ever eaten. You are amazing, Angelica.”

“I can’t take credit for this one. Tommy, my short-order cook, took my recipe and bakes them on the side to make a few extra dollars. But don’t tell Nikki Brimfield over at the Patisserie.”

Grace smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I didn’t know Tommy baked, too,” Tricia said.

“Yes. In fact, I’m worried that he’ll soon leave me for another job. I’m paying him a lot, but if he’d be happier baking, then I don’t want to stand in his way, either.”

It was then Tricia remembered that Booked for Lunch’s former short-order cook had been snatched up by the Brookview Inn to be its head chef. Angelica must have masterminded that, too, since she now owned most of the inn. Tricia frowned. It surprised her how many little good deeds Angelica had performed, and not only hadn’t she flaunted her generosity, she’d managed to stay anonymous. Tricia smiled at her sister.

“What?” Angelica asked.

“Nothing.”

“Shall I go get the car, dear?” Mr. Everett asked. “You’ll be finished with your cake by the time I bring it around.”

“Yes, why not?” Grace said.

Tricia got up from her seat so that Mr. Everett could leave.

“I’ll say good night, ladies.”

“Good night,” the sisters chorused. They watched him leave. Other people seemed to have the same idea, and he was followed by several other couples.

Angelica turned to Grace. “You two are such a cute couple.”

The elderly woman smiled. “We are rather cute.”

“Mr. Everett is a dear. I know Frannie will be heartbroken when he goes back to work for Tricia.”

“In the meantime, he looks forward to your coffee dates,” Grace told Tricia.

“As do I.” Tricia remembered Mr. Everett’s assessment of Earl Winkler during their last conversation. If she asked, would Grace say what her husband wouldn’t? “Mr. Everett and I talked about Pete the other day, and I mentioned Pete’s little altercation with Selectman Winkler.”

“William is no fan of Earl, and who can blame him?” Grace said.

“Oh?” Tricia said innocently.

“That man played a despicable trick on William back when he owned his grocery store.”

“What did he do?” Angelica asked.

“As you know, Earl is an exterminator. His company handles all kinds of infestations, but he’s been known around here as the rat killer.”

“Rats?” Angelica asked, appalled.

“Are there really rats here in Stoneham?” Tricia asked.