Lorna Barrett - Murder Is Binding

"Some kind of light industry?" Tricia guessed, remembering her lunch conversation with Mike.

He shook his head. "New Hampshire's newest spa and resort."

"Ah, another venture like the Brookview Inn?" Angelica speculated. "Yes, Stoneham is in need of more fine dining."

"No, lovely lady, not an inn."

Spa and resort? "Don't tell me," Tricia began, "a Free Spirit Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort?"

"The very same," Bob said and tipped his glass back.

"Nudists?" Grace said, appalled.

"It's only the second nudist resort in New Hampshire," Bob explained. "They're very family oriented. Should bring in a lot of tourist dollars."

"Didn't I tell you, Tricia," Ginny piped up. "Nudists get bored and like to read, too."

"How on Earth did you convince the Board of Selectmen to go for it?" Russ asked.

"Tax dollars," he explained simply. "That land isn't worth much the way it is, but once they start developing it with their lodge, spa, snack bar, Olympic-sized pool, and other amenities, we'll see a nice surge in the tax base. It's also far enough out of town that none of our residents should be offended."

"But nudists!" Grace protested.

"I hope this means we've seen the last of the nudist tracts in our stores," Tricia added.

Bob cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. "Yes, well, Free Spirit wanted to get the word out to the last of our summer tourists. I've spoken to them to them about it and they've promised it won't happen again."

"Hallelujah!" Tricia said.

"Can I quote you on this?" Russ asked.

Bob nodded. "I'll have a press release ready for you by Wednesday. And I have more news to share," he said, hoisting his glass as though for a toast. "The Cookery's assets have been sold. You'll soon have a new neighbor, Tricia."

Tricia wasn't sure she was ready to hear what else he had to say.

"Do tell," Ginny said, rolled her eyes, and picked up another crab puff, popping it into her mouth.

"I'd be glad to." But instead of launching into his story, Bob inspected the morsels on the plates and trays before him. He chose the biggest stuffed mushroom on a tray and took a bite, closing his eyes and throwing back his head theatrically. "This has got to be the most delicious thing I've ever eaten in my entire life."

Quelling the urge to throw up grew more difficult. "Come on, Bob, you're obviously dying to tell us," Tricia said.

He chose a piece of the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus from one of the platters and downed it in one gulp. "Heaven. Just heaven."

Tricia tapped her foot impatiently.

Bob took a fortifying sip of his drink before setting down his glass. "It seems Deirdre Gleason's assets have been frozen. Doris needed money to hire a good defense attorney so she's sold the Cookery, lock, stock, and barrel. And I have already rented out the building."

"To whom?"

Bob pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to Angelica, who smiled coyly. "Me."

Tricia's stomach tightened. "But I thought you wanted to open a restaurant."

"All that time lying around got me to thinking about the long hours and the low profit margin associated with owning a restaurant. And-and I thought it would be such a kick to have my own little business right next to yours. Aren't you just thrilled, Tricia?"

Thrilled wasn't the word.

"That little demonstration area Doris devised is absolutely perfect. I can cook all day while my employees run the store. I'll have a steady income and get to do what I love. It's as simple as that."

"But you don't know the business. Where will you get your stock? Have you ever hired or trained an employee? Do you have any idea about the paperwork involved juggling inventory, vendor invoices, and taxes?"

"Trish-" Angelica cut her off. "That's the beauty of having my shop right next door to you. You already have all the knowledge I need and I can tap into your brain anytime I want. What could be better? Now you must tell me who did your loft conversion. Of course, I'm leaning toward French country for my decorating scheme, but I was thinking it would be neat to knock a hole through the bricks and put in a door linking my apartment with yours."

"No way!" Tricia declared, worried she'd never again have a private moment to herself.

"What's going to happen to the house you bought?" Ginny asked, her eyes flashing with interest.

Angelica turned to Bob.

"By canceling the deal, you've forfeited your deposit, I'm afraid. But the house is back on the market. It sat for a long time. I'm sure if you upped your offer by a few thousand, you'd get it, Ginny."

"It would be a stretch, but I think we could do that," Ginny said, her hope restored.

"One more reason to celebrate," Angelica said. "This calls for champagne."

"We don't have any," Tricia said, feeling like a party pooper.

"Yes, we do," said Mr. Everett. And he brought out a chrome champagne bucket on a stand from behind the sales counter.

"If you'll look under that tray on the shelf over there, Ginny, I think you'll find the crystal flutes. Isn't it amazing what you can rent in a wonderful little village like Stoneham?" Angelica said and beamed.

For a small-town grocer turned bibliophile, Mr. Everett would have made a pretty fair sommelier. He popped the cork with style, and Ginny captured the geyser of sparking wine in a couple of glasses, passing them to Angelica and Bob, and then to the rest of the gathering, including herself and Mr. Everett.

"Who'll make the toast?" Roger asked.

Tricia stepped forward, feeling anything but cheerful. "I suppose it had better be me." She turned her gaze to her sister, exhaled a long breath, forced a smile, and raised her glass. "To Angelica, and her new venture."

"Here, here," chorused the rest of them and sipped.

"I should like to make a toast as well," Angelica said. "To Tricia, who makes all things possible."

Tricia waved an impatient hand. "Like what?"

"Like what? You've given Ginny and Mr. Everett here jobs-that's good for the local economy. Through your efforts Grace has been freed from her imprisonment at that assisted living center, and your shop brings happiness to all those tourists with nothing to read."

Tricia shrugged. "I guess."

"And because of you I've got a new life. New friends." She eyed the gathering and gave Bob a modest smile. "A new job, and will soon have a new home." Angelica raised her glass, tipping it in her sister's direction.

Tricia raised her glass as well and managed a smile. "Not bad for the village jinx, huh?"

1-2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, chopped (I often toss in a lot more)

1 pound country spareribs

1 pound Italian sausage links (I use hot)

1 can crushed tomatoes (28-ounce size)

2 cans tomato puree (28-ounce size)

1 can tomato paste (6-ounce size)

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

In a large pot, heat oil, brown onion and garlic, sear ribs, and brown sausage.

Empty contents of all the cans (tomatoes, puree, and paste). Add bay leaves, salt, and sugar.

Simmer 3 to 4 hours, longer if you like a thicker sauce. Stir occasionally.

Serve over your favorite pasta with grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, and with crusty bread.

1 lobster (1 1/2 pounds)

2 stalks celery

1 cup butter (1/2 pound)

2 shallots, minced

1 small onion, chopped

2 cups half-and-half (or whole milk)

1 teaspoon paprika

salt, white pepper

1/2 cup sherry

1 cube chicken bouillon

1 cup flour

Place lobster and celery in a heavy saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil; boil for 10 to 15 minutes or until lobster is red and cooked.