She crossed her arms and glared back at him. “Go back to your date, already. Betty’s waiting for you to help her with her lines.”
“Oh, very mature, Emma. You’re the one who called me up all frantic when your sister got sick.”
“Well, next time come up with better replacements,” Emma hissed. She moved to stomp away and froze.
Someone must have overheard them. George glanced back and wished he could rewind time. It was like the icing on this dump cake of an evening.
Betty stood at the end of the hallway with downcast eyes, hugging her middle. “They sent me to fetch you two.”
Emma fled around her, leaving George to fix this. He put his arm around Betty to lead her back into the dining room. Her bunny slippers swooshed against the carpet, reminding him how out of her element she must feel.
“I told you I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.
“We had a fight. This has nothing to do with you, Betty.” George let out a frustrated breath, grasping for the right words. “I wanted this to be a fun night for you. That’s the only reason I invited you. Jane and Finn were the last minute replacements. And although I’m really disappointed in Emma, she’s a good person at heart. It’s just buried down deep right now.”
Chapter 11♥You Can All Go Home
George couldn’t be right about this. He just couldn’t be. Except now, every time Finn made eye contact and gave Emma one of his secret smiles or little compliments, she longed to punch him in the nose. The flattery she’d felt previously was now a big embarrassment, proof she was as shallow and self-serving as George had branded her.
Throwing herself into her role as host, she served dessert while plowing through the script, cringing each time it was Betty’s turn, and she botched it. Betty threw her apologetic glances every time. It was more evidence of Emma’s pettiness, caught making fun of an old woman trying her best.
At least Elton and Harriet were hitting it off. Elton’s arm was around the back of Harriet’s chair, and he’d tasted a bite of her chocolate cheesecake to see if it was as good as his raspberry slice. That had to mean something, right? If this night worked out for them, it would all be worth it.
A few more clues and accusations and everyone would go home. Elton would walk Harriet out to her car. Emma could rest her aching head and clean up in the morning.
It was her turn in the script. “Dr. Archibald, isn’t it true you and Tommy Two Fingers used to play poker together?”
Finn leaned in, too close for comfort, and in a low voice said, “What’s it to you?”
Emma recoiled from him. He really was a worm, or a good actor. At this point, she didn’t care which. “You owed him a lot of money.”
Finn pointed across the table. “So did Mr. Peabody. And now neither of us have to pay up. I’d say it’s our lucky night.”
Betty’s turn. Emma kept a neutral face and poked at her dessert. Betty seemed to do worse when she knew people were looking at her.
“Well, I had no cause to kill him. I shouldn’t even be here.”
Yes! Emma almost clapped at the perfectly executed line, but as it was time to accuse Betty of murder, Emma put on a stern face instead. “Oh, you had cause as well, Agatha. Your son, Mugsy, used to come in here with Tommy Two Fingers, but one night they had a row, and Mugsy ain’t been seen since.”
“Yeah, where’s Mugsy?” George demanded.
“Well, I don’t know. Let me see what my script says about him.” Betty wrinkled her forehead as she frantically flipped through pages. At least she missed the eye rolls from Nicole and Cara.
“Would anyone like more dessert?” Emma asked, trying to fill the lull. They all shook their heads or ignored the question. Nobody wanted anything. Cara was not-so-stealthily trying to scratch under her wig, and Jane, aloof as ever, continued to absently slide her finger down her phone, clearly bored with whatever she was looking at, but not willing to give it up if the alternative meant paying attention to the murder mystery game. Time to end this thing.
“Oh, it says here Mugsy’s in the slammer and Tommy put him there,” Betty said, looking pleased with herself.
“Sounds like a motive to me. Agatha, did you kill Tommy Two Fingers out of revenge?”
“I hope not.”
That was as good of improv as they’d get out of her. Emma passed out slips of papers and pencils to everyone. “Now that you’ve heard all the evidence, write your guesses. Then we’ll see if anyone would like to confess.”So you can all go home. There had to be easier ways to get two people together. Emma enjoyed helping people, one fashion disaster at a time. Party planning was a whole different animal—a balancing act of blending personalities and needs. She wouldn’t try it again any time soon.
There were three guesses for Agatha, three for Dr. Archibald, two for Mayor Graft, and one for Ginger. Nobody guessed the real killer, Margaret O’Hara, their host. Emma read her confession which included her attempt to frame Agatha, thanked everyone for coming, and then took aside Elton to ask him if he could make sure Harriet made it safely to her car. George’s glare was like a laser beam pointed at her forehead, but what did it matter now? He didn’t like the matchmaking. Message received loud and clear. She was feeling a little detached from it all at the moment.
Finn offered to stay and help clean up, and since he and Jane rode together, that meant he was offering on Jane’s behalf as well. Emma kindly but firmly turned him down and actually got a half-smile out of Jane.
She thought she had everyone out when she strode into the kitchen and slammed a cupboard shut.
