“Just tidying up a few things.”

“Please tell me that this time you have good news for me.”

“I do, and I didn’t want you to have to wait until Monday to hear that you’ve been approved for the entire amount of your claim. The check will be in the mail Monday morning.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“When can I start repairs on my home—my shop?”

“Anytime you want.”

“I want, I want—believe me—I want!” she cried, suddenly finding herself choking up.

“I assume you’ve been talking to a contractor.”

“I spoke to him just this morning.”

“Good. We can recommend specialized professionals to refurbish your apartment and clean the smoke damage.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to research the subject and have a load of tradespeople all lined up. They’ve just been waiting for the okay to start work.”

“Good. Of course you know you can call me for anything.”

“You’ve been an angel, John. Thank you so much.”

“Do I get an invitation to the grand reopening?”

“You’ll be at the top of the list.”

“Take care,” he said, and they said good-bye.

“Sounds like good news,” Mariana said.

“The best. I’ll soon be going home.” She laughed. “Well, as soon as all the damage is repaired and I replace nearly everything I own.” Suddenly the task seemed daunting.

Tricia spent the next half hour making lists of things to do. She had a lot of plans to make before she could even begin to get her life back.

Looking over her list brought her great satisfaction, and she suddenly wanted to share her good news. Angelica was working at Booked for Lunch. Although it was half an hour earlier than Tricia usually went out for her midday meal, she decided to buck her rut and go early.

“I’m going to lunch,” she said, and stood.

Mariana smiled. “You ought to celebrate at the Brookview Inn’s dining room. At least you could get an adult beverage there.”

“It’ll have to wait until later, I’m afraid. But somewhere out there is a martini with my name on it.”

“In the meantime, why not splurge with a cupcake?”

“I just might,” Tricia said, and headed for the door. The way she felt, nothing could spoil her good mood. Nothing in the world.

TWENTY-THREE

By the time Tricia arrived at Booked for Lunch, the midday crowd had thinned. Instead of being jammed with tourists, she saw a number of her friends. She waved to Russ and Nikki, who were seated in the far booth. Ginny sat alone in the one closest to the front window, kept company by her e-reader. She looked up briefly, saw Tricia, and waved, then went back to her book. Meanwhile Pixie, dressed in a vintage white waitress uniform with Woolworth embroidered in green above the pocket, bobbed around bussing tables.

“I’m going to be late getting to the Chamber,” she apologized while loaded down with ketchup-and-mustard-stained plates. “Tommy had to leave early, so I’ll be finishing up in the kitchen for him.”

“Pixie, it’s Saturday—your day off from the Chamber.”

Pixie laughed. “Good grief. I completely forgot.”

“Besides, if you were late, you’ve got a very understanding boss. Isn’t that right, Angelica?”

Angelica stood behind the counter with a calculator in hand; a pencil stuck out from behind her right ear. “Uh-huh,” she muttered, although Tricia doubted her sister had even heard what she’d said.

“Thanks for driving Michele into the village this morning, Pixie.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. It’s always nice to talk to somebody different.”

“Did you get your tattoo?” Tricia asked.

“Oh, yeah. Right now, it itches like hell. I shouldn’t have worn this polyester dress. I feel like there’s ants crawling all over my chest.”

Oh, so that’s where she’d gotten it.

“If you want to hang around after everybody leaves, I’ll show it to you.”

“Great,” Tricia said, though she wasn’t all that excited to witness the presentation.

“Excuse me; the kitchen calls,” Pixie said, and hefted a full tray.

Tricia took her usual seat at the counter and waited for her customary tuna plate to materialize. After about a minute and no attention from Angelica, she got up and poured herself a cup of coffee, nudged past Angelica, and got her own lunch. She’d already sat down and removed the plastic wrap before Angelica seemed to realize she was even there.

“Oh. When did you get here?”

“About five minutes ago. What’s got you so preoccupied?”

“I’m trying to decide if I should change my standing bread order. But it doesn’t matter right this minute. Can I get you—oh, you already have coffee. Well, I think I’ll join you.” She grabbed a cup from the shelf and poured herself one.

“I came by early to share my good news.” Tricia laughed. “Actually several pieces of good news.”

The bell over the door jangled, and Tricia turned to see Christopher enter.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he called as she crossed the floor to join Tricia at the counter.

Tricia sighed. Was he ever going to stop bothering her? “Hello.”

“Have you got anything good left to eat?” he asked Angelica.

“The grill is closed, but we’ve still got the soup-and-sandwich special: potato and leek, and egg salad.”

“Sounds great. On rye?” he asked.

“Coming right up,” Angelica said, put down her cup, and headed for the kitchen.

So much for Tricia’s good news. She took a bite of tuna.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Christopher said, and smiled.

“I come here almost every day.”

“Yes, but today you’re early.”

Did he keep an eye out for her twenty-four/seven?

Angelica returned with a cup of soup, a spoon, and a couple of packets of crackers, setting them in front of Christopher. “Your sandwich will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Angelica turned to Tricia. “Now, what were you saying about good news?”

“I heard from the insurance company. The check is being cut, and I can start repairing my store.”

Angelica beamed. “That is good news. Congratulations.”

“Congratulations, Trish. It’ll be good to have you living closer—in case you ever need me,” Christopher said.

Tricia said nothing and turned back to her sister. “The other good piece of news is that I found your petal pincher.”

Angelica’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but she quickly recovered, and again beamed. “Who? Who is it?”

Tricia looked right and left before beckoning Angelica closer. “Earl Winkler,” she whispered.

Again Angelica’s mouth dropped, but this time she didn’t smile. “Why, that dirty rat!”

“Funny it should be the rat catcher,” Tricia agreed, and used her fork to rearrange the lettuce on her plate. “I’ll tell you the whole story when there isn’t a crowd listening in,” she said with a quick glance at her ex-husband, “but suffice to say, rather than face the humiliation of public knowledge of his indiscretion, he’s willing to apologize and help restore the silk flowers.”

“Big of him,” Angelica said tartly.

“Since the plants themselves weren’t destroyed, that’s about the best you’re going to get.”

Angelica scowled. “I’ll accept his apology, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy on him.”

Tricia didn’t envy the time Earl would have to spend with Angelica to get the job done.

A bell sounded from the kitchen. “That’s your sandwich, Christopher. I’ll be right back with it.” Angelica headed for the kitchen.

Tricia turned her attention back to her lunch.

The door to the street opened, the little bell jangling as Bob Kelly burst in. His face was flushed, and his eyes were red-rimmed. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He took in the rest of the customers before he reached for the OPEN sign and turned it to CLOSED, then stamped across the tile floor to stand behind Tricia.