Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

“Goodness, another one?”

He nodded, she signed, and off he went again.

Everyone leaned in to watch as Tricia opened the box. She pulled back the tissue, and inside was—no surprise!—six more magnificent calla lilies. She opened the small white envelope and read the card. “Thank you for welcoming me to your village and your country. Happy birthday. Antonio Barbero, Nigela Racita Associates.”

“Didn’t you just meet that guy?” Angelica asked.

“Yes. Ginny must’ve told him it was my birthday today. We were going to have dinner Monday night, but—oh, well, it’s a long story. I’m more interested in hearing what else Bob has to say about Darcy.”

“What about her?” he asked warily.

“I’m assuming Darcy was an old flame. How did you two get reacquainted?” Tricia asked.

“At a meeting of Chamber of Commerce presidents. It was held in Nashua back in February. Darcy was the hostess at the restaurant. We had a few drinks after the meeting, and I . . . kind of drove her home.”

“How does one kind of drive someone home?” Angelica asked pointedly.

“And then what happened?” Tricia asked.

“We had a few more drinks and talked and . . . then I woke up in her bed the next morning,” Bob admitted sheepishly.

“Fancy that,” Angelica said.

“I was so hungover, I don’t even know if we . . . you know.”

“Had sex?” Angelica supplied.

Bob wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“How did Darcy come to work for Angelica?” Tricia asked.

“I must have told her Booked for Lunch was looking for a waitress.”

“Did you tell her about us at the same time?” Angelica asked.

“I . . . don’t know.”

“Surely there were plenty of waitressing jobs in Nashua at the time,” Grace suggested.

“Darcy told me she had another job working evenings,” Tricia said, “but she needed the money. To pay off gambling debts, perhaps?”

Bob shrugged. “I guess.”

“Did she hit you up for money?” Angelica asked.

Bob squirmed. “Not exactly—at least not at first. She said she was more interested in reestablishing a relationship. I told her I wasn’t interested. I told her that you and I were a couple, but she hounded me anyway.”

“And, of course, you succumbed to her charms; after all, you’re just a weak man,” Angelica said with scorn.

“I did not sleep with that woman!” Bob declared.

“Haven’t we heard that before? And just what did you do instead of sleeping with her?” Angelica wanted to know.

“I kept a low profile,” Bob explained. “She was forty-one and she wanted to get married to somebody— anybody! When I made it clear I wasn’t interested in her, she set her sights on Jim Roth.”

“Jake said she knew Jim after taking smoke breaks at the same time he did,” Tricia said.

“She started showing up at his Gamblers Anonymous meetings, too,” Bob said. “That was after she saw his house and his business. She figured he was a successful businessman.”

“And when she found out the truth?” Tricia asked.

“Let’s just say she didn’t take the news well. She was angry with me for rebuffing her advances, and she was angry with Jim when she found out he was seeing someone else.”

“But Jim broke up with Frannie,” Grace said.

“Yes, but he wouldn’t leave his mother,” Bob explained. “Darcy was furious—and for some reason, she blamed me! When she saw the two of us together at History Repeats Itself, she decided to get rid of both of us—just out of spite.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Tricia said, changing the subject. “When Russ and I got to your house the night you said someone tried to break in, you said you were pretty sure it was a man. Why didn’t you level with us that it was Darcy?”

“And admit I was afraid of a woman? Get real, Tricia.”

“You could have saved yourself—and the Sheriff’s Department—a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t lecture me,” Bob snapped.

“Don’t you speak to my sister like that,” Angelica admonished. “Especially on her birthday!”

Bob hung his head. “I’m sorry, Tricia.”

“I don’t know if I ever can forgive you, Bob,” Angelica said. “You know how I feel about cheaters. I’ve been married to four of them.”

“I’m sorry, Angelica. I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Bob said, embarrassed.

“I’ve heard that four times too many,” Angelica said and sniffed loudly.

Bob eyed Tricia and the others. “Angelica, don’t you think we should be discussing this in private?”

Angelica crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? Do you have anything else to hide?”

Tricia wished she could just fade into the woodwork, glad it was Bob and not she who was pinned by Angelica’s baleful stare. Still, why did they have to have this conversation in Haven’t Got a Clue? The saving grace was that the store hadn’t yet opened for the day.

Tricia took a step back and signaled to Mr. Everett and Grace. “We’ll just leave you two alone—”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Angelica said, turning her laserlike glare on Tricia. Angelica meant business. She turned back to Bob. “You’re going to have to work very hard to get back into my good graces.”

“Anything you want, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?” Tricia repeated.

Angelica swung her angry gaze back to Tricia. Oops! Apparently there were some things that transcended even Angelica’s birthday goodwill.

Ginny returned with two clear glass vases filled with water. “Would you like me to arrange the flowers?” she asked Tricia.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Ginny.”

Before Ginny could get started, the florist’s deliveryman was back again, with yet another long white box. The ribbon on this one was pale yellow. He handed it to Tricia.

“Not another one?”

“Apparently you’re very popular, ma’am.”

Once again, Tricia slid the ribbon from the box and opened it. Inside were another dozen perfect calla lilies.

“Who are they from?” Angelica asked.

Tricia read the card. “Sorry we couldn’t be there on your special day. Love, Mother and Daddy.” Oh, well, at least they’d made an effort.

“Goodness, I’m going to have to go home and rustle up another couple of vases,” Angelica said, but before she could do so, the door opened again, and Russ stepped inside, his camera dangling around his neck.

“Happy birthday, Tricia!”

“Hello, Russ,” Tricia said, unable to muster any enthusiasm.

“I saw the florist’s truck and—” He frowned at the sight of the four florist’s boxes on the coffee station’s counter. “Oh. Gee . . . I guess my gift wasn’t as original as I thought.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, Russ,” Tricia said coolly. No way was he getting a hug and a kiss for remembering her birthday—not after the way he’d been acting of late.

The door rattled, and it was the deliveryman with still another long white florist’s box. “Please sign here,” he said and handed Tricia his clipboard for a fifth time.

“Aren’t you getting writer’s cramp by now?” Angelica asked. “I didn’t sign my name that much at some of my book events.”

Tricia ignored her sarcasm. This time the ribbon was mauve, which went perfectly with her sweater set. She opened the box and found another six magnificent calla lilies.

“And this time they’re from—?” Ginny prompted eagerly, while trying to force one more lily into the first vase.

Tricia read the card. “Happy birthday. Grant.”

“Baker!” Russ cried, clearly annoyed.

Tricia wasted less than two seconds of her day to glare at him before she removed one of the lovely flowers from the box. How had Captain Baker known calla lilies were her favorite, let alone her birth date? Tricia glanced at Angelica, who seemed to find the tin ceiling of infinite interest.