Софи Келли - A Midwinter's Tail

“Thank you,” I said. “If you take that over to Abigail”—I pointed over to the table where she was standing, talking to Vincent Starr—“she’ll give you a receipt.”

He looked across the room. His father already had a cup of coffee and some kind of cream-filled tart balanced on his saucer. He was talking to Mary and even from this distance I knew he was flirting with her.

“Good thing the old man’s as tough as a barbecued shoe,” he said. He rolled his eyes and started for Abigail.

I turned around to take in the entire space for a moment and found Maggie standing behind me. The sparkle in her green eyes matched the sparkling clip in her short blond hair.

She grinned at me. “I knew that dress was perfect for you,” she said. “What did Marcus say when he saw you in it?”

I felt my cheeks get warm. “Um . . . wow.”

She laughed. “He’s right. And he’s looking very wow himself.”

“He is, isn’t he?” I agreed. I looked around and finally caught sight of Marcus standing by the front row of seats on the theater’s main floor, talking to Ella King and paramedic Ric Holm. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he turned and smiled at me.

I raised one hand for a moment and then turned back to Maggie. “You were right about him, about us.”

“I know,” she said.

“You know, you look very ‘wow’ yourself.”

She was wearing a slim, pale yellow calf-length dress that went beautifully with her fair skin and cropped blond hair.

“It’s fun to see everyone dressed up,” she said. “Have you seen Lita and Burtis?”

I shook my head.

“I almost didn’t recognize Burtis when I saw him in the parking lot. He was wearing this wonderful dark gray fedora. Very forties film noir.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing that.”

“Kathleen, is that one of your book experts talking to Mary?” Maggie asked, looking past me. “She looks familiar.”

I turned sideways to see who she was talking about.

“No,” I said, slowly. “That’s Dayna Chapman.”

Her eyes widened. “Brady’s mother? Burtis’s ex-wife?”

“Yes.”

She frowned at me. “What’s she doing here? Here at the party and here in Mayville Heights?”

“I don’t know,” I said, turning back to face her. “I had lunch with Roma and Rebecca and she walked into Eric’s. Rebecca said Dayna hasn’t been back in more than twenty years.”

Maggie nodded, her expression still serious. “I was just a kid, but I remember when she left. You can imagine all the speculation.” She gave me a wry smile. “I don’t know what Burtis said, or did, but all of a sudden.” She snapped her fingers. “The talk just stopped.”

I looked back over my shoulder again. Dayna Chapman was wearing a very simple, but elegant, dark red dress that hugged her tall, thin model’s figure. Her hair was pulled back in a severe twist that showed off her long neck.

“She seems very different from Burtis,” I said.

“That’s probably what did in their marriage.”

I thought about Lita: kind, warm and impossible to rattle, in my experience. The cool, unsmiling Dayna was very different.

I realized Maggie was watching my face, green eyes narrowed. “You don’t like her.”

“I don’t even know her,” I said, smoothing a hand back over my hair. “But . . . have you ever met someone who you just didn’t get a good feeling from?”

Maggie nodded. “We can feel another person’s energy, even if we’re not aware of it.” She gave me a small smile. “You’re a very positive person, Kath. I don’t think Dayna Chapman is.” She touched my arm. “There’s someone I need to find. And you probably need to circulate. I’ll look for you later.” She leaned over and gave me a hug and then she was gone.

I looked longingly in the direction of the cupcakes, but Vincent Starr had just walked in and I wanted to talk to him before the party got any busier.

“Thank you so much for coming, Vincent,” I said, walking over to him.

He took my hand in both of his. “Kathleen, this is extraordinary,” he said, looking around. He reminded me of an English prof I’d had in college. He had the same dark hair waved back from his face, although Vincent’s was touched with silver at the temples, and the same style of horned-rim glasses.

I smiled back at him. “Thank you. I can’t take any of the credit for the décor. It’s the work of my friends Maggie and Ruby.”

“They’re very talented artists,” he said.

“Yes, they are,” I agreed. I pointed to Maggie across the room talking to Harry Junior. “That’s Maggie,” I said. “I know she’d love to hear that you like her work.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” he said. He let go of my hand. “I’ll let you circulate and we’ll talk later.”

I turned around to discover that the reporter from the Chronicle had arrived for the interview. I spent about fifteen minutes with her and then I left her with Rebecca and Everett.

Abigail made her way through the crowd to me. “Susan is at the donation table,” she said. “Olivia would like to know if you want her to pass out the chocolates now or after Everett thanks everyone for coming and makes his pitch for money.”

I looked around. People were laughing and talking and the jazz quartet was playing. “Now, I think,” I said. “If we do it after, we may shift everyone’s focus away from the point of the party.” I rubbed my left wrist with the other hand. It was aching a little, a sure sign we were going to get snow tomorrow. “Does that sound too mercenary?” I asked.

Abigail made a face. “No. It sounds practical. Reading Buddies is a great program, but we can’t keep it going or help any more kids without money. Olivia’s chocolates are incredible, believe me. And I don’t have a problem with Decadence Chocolatier getting some free advertising from tonight.” She patted one hip. “But I want people to think, ‘Gee, I want to help those kids,’ not, ‘Gee, I want to buy a box of these chocolates.’” She held up both hands. “So sue me if that seems mercenary.”

I put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” I said.

She leaned against me for a moment as she scanned the crowd, looking for Olivia, I was guessing. “It’s a gift,” she said with a grin.

She spotted Olivia then, lifted one hand and nodded. Olivia returned the nod and headed for the wings on the right side of the stage.

“Do you want to hear how much we’ve made so far?” Abigail asked, straightening up and smoothing the skirt of her dress.

I hesitated and then I shook my head. “No. Tomorrow will be fine.”

Abigail frowned at me. “Kathleen, have you had anything to eat or drink yet?”

“I haven’t had time,” I said with a shrug.

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Don’t. Move,” she said, stressing both words.

She was back in less than a minute with a cup of coffee and a tiny mint chocolate chip cupcake.

“As of this moment you’re my favorite person,” I said, taking the coffee cup from her hands.

Abigail gave a snort of disbelief. “I’m your favorite person only until a certain detective makes his way over here.”

“Only if he brings me more chocolate,” I said as I took a bite of the cupcake. I gave a little groan of pleasure and Abigail laughed.

Olivia, along with Taylor King and Harry Junior’s teenage daughter, Mariah, were circulating through the crowd, handing out the chocolate sampler boxes. Olivia had made all the chocolates at cost. Each box held three of her gourmet truffles.

Nic Sutton—who was a full-time artist and a part-time waiter—had crafted all the boxes by hand, again, donating his time. The tiny containers looked like little books with Reading Buddies written in gold script on the cover. I wasn’t sure if the samplers would turn out to be a good promo item or not. They seemed like a better idea than a brochure about the program that would probably have ended up in everyone’s recycling bin in the morning.