The door at the back of the store opened, and Angelica emerged from the stairwell that led to her loft apartment. “Aha!” she called. “Didn’t I predict you’d be here to see Frannie this very day?”
Tricia sighed. “I came to ask Frannie if she knew of anyone who needed a job. Ginny’s turned in her resignation.”
“Oh dear,” Angelica said, suddenly full of concern.
A customer entered the store, and Frannie straightened, ready to spring into action. “May I help you?”
Angelica didn’t wait to hear the customer’s reply but grasped Tricia’s arm, steering her toward the door to the stairwell. “Why don’t we go talk about it upstairs. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea. Or something stronger, if you prefer.”
Tricia found herself shuffling up the stairs behind her sister, feeling totally downcast. She followed Angelica inside the apartment and down the hall to the kitchen. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows and felt warm on her back as she took a seat at the large table.
“It’s a bit warm for hot tea,” Angelica said, and instead opened the refrigerator and took out a glass jug filled with homemade ice tea. She snagged a couple of tumblers from the cupboard, filled them with ice from the freezer, and poured the tea. She set a glass on the table in front of Tricia. “Why are you moping around? I thought you were behind the idea of Ginny furthering her career.”
“I am. I just hate to lose someone I trust so much.”
“Wasn’t it just this morning Ginny was complaining that you didn’t trust her enough to let her open and close your store? That you didn’t let her go to the bank for you. That—”
“Okay, maybe I should have given her a little more authority. I’m not standing in her way. I just wish, well, that she could’ve stayed forever. She’s not only a good assistant, she’s a good friend.”
“And good friends don’t stand in the way of one of them getting ahead. Look at you. You’ve already achieved your life’s dream.”
“You make it sound like I should just give up and quit—or die.”
“I’m not saying that at all. I’m just wondering, will you always be happy selling books? Isn’t there anything else you aspire to?”
Tricia hadn’t given that much thought in the past few years. Her goal had always been to open Haven’t Got a Clue–or something very like it. She was happy here in Stoneham. She couldn’t imagine going back to her old life in Manhattan. And yet . . . could she imagine climbing all those steps to her loft apartment some twenty years in the future? Paper books might be a thing of the past the way e-books were proliferating. Was her chosen way of life doomed? She’d already had to stock items besides books to keep the customers satisfied. Edgar Allan Poe and other famous author coffee mugs, bookmarks, blank journals, key chains, and the like.
“Hello!” Angelica called.
Tricia looked up. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.”
“Are you burned out?” Angelica asked, yet it sounded more like an accusation.
Tricia shook her head sadly.
“Maybe you need to be more like me,” Angelica said with the hint of a devious smile touching her lips. “Diversify a little bit.”
“How?”
Angelica shrugged. “I don’t know. Make a few investments. I’ve already got the Cookery, the café, and a writing career. Maybe you could start a day spa. We could sure use one around here.”
“Why would I want to run a day spa?”
“For fun! That’s why I opened Booked for Lunch.”
“Are you crazy? You’ve had nothing but problems since you opened the café. From thieving employees to a dead body in your garbage.”
Angelica waved an impatient hand in the air. “Just a few speed bumps on my way to success. Look at me—less than two years after coming to Stoneham and already I’m a successful businesswoman and a bestselling cookbook author. And look at you.”
“I am not a failure. I’ve just chosen different goals than yours.”
“The bar doesn’t get much lower.”
“Hey! I’m a successful businesswoman, too. I don’t choose to live a life as manic as yours.”
“No, you get your ya-yas finding bodies every couple of months. Maybe there’s a reason they call you the village jinx.”
Not that again. And it hurt that Angelica would be the one to bring it up. Talk about bullying!
Suddenly Tricia was once again the unwanted second child. No matter what she’d accomplished, there was always something in the back of her mind that reminded her that she’d been an inconvenience to her parents—and Angelica—and how they’d probably wished they’d used more effective forms of birth control. How it still haunted her that during some stupid argument about a boy, her mother had blurted out, “We never expected to have another child.” From that day forward, Tricia had viewed all slights and reprimands with a different perspective. Was it a surprise she’d clung to her loving, all-forgiving grandmother rather than her parents?
“Penny for your thoughts,” Angelica said.
“I don’t think you find them worth it,” Tricia muttered, and got up from the stool. “I need to get back to my store. I have a ton of work to do before my date tonight.”
“Oooh! Who’s the lucky man?”
“Captain Baker is taking me to dinner.”
“It’s about time,” Angelica said.
“He said he has something to tell me.”
Angelica frowned. “Good or bad?”
Tricia shrugged. “He asked me to wear my peach dress.”
“That sounds promising. Of course, this is you we’re talking about. Call me if the whole thing’s a fiasco and we’ll commiserate.”
Not on your life, Tricia refrained from saying aloud.
“But don’t stay out too late, either,” Angelica warned as Tricia headed for the door to the stairs. “We’ve got Deborah’s funeral in the morning. Do you want to drive, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it. Elizabeth said to be at the funeral home by nine. Why don’t you meet me at my shop at eight forty-five and we’ll go on from there.”
“Got it,” Angelica said.
As Tricia reached for the door handle, Angelica touched her shoulder. Tricia hesitated.
“I know you’re unhappy to lose Ginny, but you did a wonderful job training her, and now she’ll go on to have a successful career. You would’ve made a great teacher, Trish. You’re so patient and kind and giving. I really think you missed your calling. And I wouldn’t be where I am today, as a businesswoman, if I hadn’t learned from your example. I know it didn’t sound like it earlier, but I’m so proud of you, little sister.” She threw her arms around Tricia, who didn’t know what to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Angelica and allowed herself a smile.
Seven
It had been several weeks since Tricia had even driven by the Brookview Inn, and the changes since Nigela Racita Associates had taken over were readily apparent—and decidedly for the better. Captain Baker parked his car in the nearly full lot out back, then got out to open the door for Tricia. It had been a long time since a man had done that for her. Christopher, her ex-husband, as a matter of fact. She couldn’t remember Russ ever opening the door of his pickup for her.
They walked around the inn to the front entrance. Back in June, there’d been no flowers bordering the walkway. The building had also needed a fresh coat of paint, which it had received in the not-too-distant past. Now several shades of pink begonias flanked the concrete. Colorful geraniums in shades of pink filled the window boxes on the front porch, and the dozen or so quant rockers also sported fresh paint. Baker held the door for her, and they entered the inn’s lobby. New carpeting had replaced the shabby rug that had been there back in June, and the walls sparkled with more fresh paint and bright sconces.
“Wow,” Baker said, taking in all the changes.
“Wow is right,” Tricia agreed.