“Could be, but again, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Alicia picked up the paper she’d set aside and waved it at me. “Now excuse me, but I need to get to work on this request. Mr. and Mrs. Rowley wanted to pick up their lunches early.”
“All right, don’t let me keep you.” I gave Alicia a brief nod good-bye before I headed for the hall. Preoccupied with thoughts ofIsabella’s mysterious past, Lincoln Delamont’s cryptic threats, and his daughter’s angry comments, I almost collided with Todd and Kelly Rowley, who’d walked into the front hallway from the porch.
Plastering on a smile, I faced the couple. “I hope you’ve had a good time this morning?”
“Oh yes,” Kelly replied. “The town really is quaint, and it’s still quiet, at least right now.”
“It’ll get a lot busier later when all the Big Rock tournament participants and visitors return for dinner and drinks at the restaurants near the docks. Fortunately you won’t have to fight the crowds this evening, since you’re having dinner here.”
Todd Rowley glanced at his wife. “We’re excited about that, aren’t we, sweetheart? Kelly had a beautiful costume made,” he added, turning his gaze back on me.
“That’s great,” I said, thinking about everything I had to do before I could don my own costume, a hand-me-down from Isabella I’d found while rummaging around in the attic.
Jennifer Delamont clattered down the stairs, stopping short when she noticed me and the Rowleys. “Oh, hello. Have any of you seen my husband? I can’t imagine where he’s gotten to.”
“He was in the library, Ms. Delamont.” I noticed the lines creasing Jennifer Delamont’s brow and softened my tone. “But that was a little while ago. I’m not sure if he’s still there.”
“He’s not,” Kelly said, with a toss of her long braid. “Todd and I were just out walking and saw him dashing off somewhere when we turned onto this block.”
“Really? He didn’t tell me he was going out …” Jennifer Delamont bit her lower lip as if to stop herself from saying anything more.
“He was in a hurry.” Todd winked at Jennifer. “Maybe he wanted to sneak out and get you a gift before you realized he was gone?”
“I doubt that,” Kelly said sharply. As Jennifer turned a myopic gaze on her, the younger woman twitched her lips into a smile. “I just mean, not everyone is as sentimental as you are, Todd.” Kelly slipped her arm around her husband’s waist before turning to me. “He spoils me. Always buying me little surprise gifts.”
“You deserve it,” Todd said, patting Kelly’s hand.
“No, that wouldn’t be it,” Jennifer Delamont said, her shoulders slumping. “Well, thanks anyway. I guess I’ll catch up with him later.” She turned and headed back upstairs.
“Poor thing,” Kelly said, when Jennifer had disappeared into the upper hallway. Catching my eye, she shrugged. “I heard them yelling at each other last night, after the cocktail party. I think you’d gone out by that time.”
“Yes, it was my friend Julie’s birthday.” I turned away slightly. “Sorry, but I really should get moving. There’s so much to do before this evening’s festivities.”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Todd said. “We’re heading back out as soon as we grab our bagged lunches. I want to spend some decent time at the Maritime Museum before we need to change for the party.”
“Well, have fun.” I noticed that Kelly was staring up the staircase, as if her thoughts remained focused on Jennifer Delamont.
She probably feels as bad for the woman as I do, I thought.Especially since, unlike Jennifer, she seems to have such a happy marriage.
As I did, once upon a time.
Chapter Four
Later that afternoon, I worked in the English garden that filled most of Chapters’ backyard. Cutting a flower stem, I jerked back my hand as a thorn pierced my skin. The crimson roses fell, scattering across one of the white gravel paths that outlined the formal flower beds. I stepped back, twitching my finger away from the blood that pooled inside my suede gardening glove.
“War of the Roses, indeed,” I muttered to myself as I yanked off the glove and waved it at my friend, Julie Rivera, who’d agreed to help me decorate Chapters for the costume party. “The things I do for my guests.”
“It will be worth it. You’ll see,” Julie said.
I wasn’t so sure, afraid I’d taken on too much with my War of the Roses dinner party. When I’d planned a week-long literary event as a celebration of Golden Age mystery author Josephine Tey, I’d thought it would be fun to include a costume party honoring Tey’s famous storyThe Daughter of Time. A War of the Roses–themed event had seemed a natural nod to the book, which featured Tey’s detective, Alan Grant, investigating thetruth about Richard the Third and the princes in the Tower. But the complexity of offering a fifteenth-century-influenced dinner, along with the necessary decorating, had proven so stressful, I wished I’d never come up with the idea.
I peeled off the other glove and shoved both into the pocket of my jeans. Hanging my garden shears off the edge of my bucket, I stared at the containers overflowing with flowers.Now we’ve really done enough, I thought, considering the swaths of scarlet and white fabric Julie and I had already hung in the dining room to frame a reproduction of a medieval tapestry panel. With the addition of fabric chair covers and two faux-metal shields, I’d thought my decorating was complete. But Julie had noticed the blooming shrubs in the garden and suggested adding vases filled with red and white roses. Which I’d thought a great idea at the time. Until I encountered the vicious thorns studding the stems of the flowers, of course.
“I feel like a pincushion,” I said, wrapping a tissue around my bleeding finger.
“But he that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose,” Julie said, her brown eyes sparkling with good humor.
“Good old Anne Bronte—she sure had that right,” I said, not surprised that Julie could quote a classic but not-so-well-known author. A voracious reader, she owned Bookwaves, an independent bookstore on Front Street.
