Deadly Notions (6 page)

“The kids loved the tire swing you tied in that tree behind the library. It was one of the many highlights of the party.” She snuggled back against his chest, savoring the feel of his arms around her body. “I know Melissa really appreciated you dropping by before the party to do that. Especially since you had plans . . .”

“My pleasure.”

Closing her eyes against the wave of self-doubt that threatened to stymie her mood, she dove headfirst into the conversation she knew she should be big enough to initiate. “So? How was it?”

He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “How was what?”

“Your dinner with Beth.” There. She said it. She released a burst of air from her lungs. “Was it good to see her again?”

“It was. It’s been a lot of years. Which meant a lot of catching up.”

Nibbling her lower lip inward, she closed her eyes again, willed herself to embrace the calm his arms provided. “Did she know about Celia?”

His chin bobbed against her head. “She did.”

“Did she
know
Celia?”

His chin slid side to side. “No. I met Celia when I was student teaching. We were married inside a year and she died six months later. This is the first time I’ve actually seen Beth since before all of that.”

“Oh.” She tugged his arms more tightly around her. “Um . . . is she married now?”

“To her career, I suspect, based on how much she talked about it. But not to a person.” Whispering a kiss atop her hair, he continued, his deep voice rumbling against her back. “She seems pretty happy with being single. And she looks spectacular.”

“Owning her own business certainly seems to agree with her. Especially now, when things are looking so good.”

“Especially now? How so?” she made herself ask.

He shrugged. “I don’t know specifics. Beth has always been the type that’s really superstitious. She never liked to say how she did on a test until she got the grade back. If she forgot her keys or her purse when we were going out on a date, we had to go back into her dorm room and sit for a few minutes before we could leave.”

“Oh.”

“From what she
did
share though, she had an appointment earlier today that virtually inked some deal she’s been working on for months. She wasn’t ready to divulge details yet but said she’d show me as soon as the labels were done.”

“Labels?”

“I don’t know. I tried to ask but she prattled on about taking the pageant world by storm.”

“What’s her company called again?”

“Spotlight Fashions. At least for now. That’s apparently one of the changes she’s making in conjunction with whatever this new acquisition is.”

She pondered his words. “Sounds neat. Did you . . . did you tell her about us?” The second the words were out she regretted them, the overall question—coupled with the slight tremble to her voice—making her seem more than a little pathetic. “You know what? Scratch that. It doesn’t matter.”

“Hey. Slow down a minute.” Ever so gently he scooted her forward then turned her to face him. “Of course I told her about you. We were there to catch up on each other’s lives and you, Tori Sinclair, are a huge part of my life.”

Reaching up, she traced the side of his face with her hand. “Thank you. I needed that more than you can know.”

“We all need to hear the truth.” He jerked his head toward the coffee table as dimples carved holes in his cheeks. “And we all need chocolate, yes?”

She laughed. “Wow, I’ve really trained you well, haven’t I?”

“Never better.” Grabbing the bag, he pulled it onto his lap. “So tell me more about this party. The swing really went over well?”

“It was a huge hit.” She took the piece of brownie he held out to her and popped it in her mouth. “Though, as the party wore on, I couldn’t help but think the rope was a mistake.”

He looked a question at her as she rushed to explain. “I was afraid it might make things a little too tempting.”

“Things?” he asked around a bite of brownie.

“Strangulation, for starters.”

He choked on his dessert. “Come again?”

“It’s top on Margaret Louise’s method of choice at the moment.”

“Method of choice for what?”

She stuck her hand into the bag and broke off another piece, the promise of chocolate far stronger than her willpower. “Don’t you mean for
whom
?”

“Okay, sure . . .” Milo paused with his second helping mere inches from his mouth. “Wait. Does this have to do with Ashley Lawson?”

“You remembered.”

“How could I not? After hearing how stressed Melissa’s been getting ready for this party, it’s hard not to remember. Though, in all fairness, I have to believe she took it a bit far. I know this woman has a reputation for being a little overbearing, but to be as over-the-top as Melissa said? It’s hard to imagine.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“Not directly. But Penelope is only in kindergarten.”

She swiveled her body to afford a better look at Milo. “See, I thought the same thing in the beginning. You know, that Melissa and the rest of them had to be exaggerating a little where this woman was concerned.”

“And now?”

“And now I know they weren’t. In fact, they may have
under
stated things.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can. And I am.” Grabbing the bag from his hands, she peered inside, the remnants of the brownie nothing more than mere crumbs. Her lower lip jutted over her top lip. “I think I liked it better when you were wary of chocolate.”

He made a face. “So Margaret Louise wants to strangle this woman, eh?”

She looked into the bag again, her finger chasing crumbs across the bottom of the sack. “She does. But so does Melissa, and Beatrice, and Rose, and Dixie, and Caroline Rowen, and Samantha Smith.”

His laugh echoed around the living room of his modest two-bedroom cottage. “And you? Where do you fall in all of this?”

“It would be unkind to the rope.” She held up her hands and gave her head a little shake. “I’m kidding, really . . . but I have to tell you, Milo, this woman is mean personified.”

“That bad, huh?”

“And then some.” She set the bag on the coffee table and snuggled into the crook of Milo’s arm, the warmth of his body making her eyes heavy. “Her boss, Regina Murphy, showed up toward the end of the party. Just to help collect the dress-up costumes Ashley insisted on bringing to the party. Did Ashley appreciate it? No. Yet the woman still seemed to be her biggest champion, casting an evil eye on the other moms who so obviously had had enough of Ashley Lawson.”

“Maybe there’s something good there after all.”

“Maybe . . .” she allowed, albeit grudgingly.

“Word on the street is she’s a fabulous designer.”

“Well, designing dresses for pageants is all well and good—even better if she’s truly that good at it—but being a decent human being should mean a little more, don’t you think?”

“Agreed. But people place different importance on different things. Makes it easier to sort the apples from the lemons that way.” He nudged her chin upward until their eyes met. “It’s finding the little diamonds underneath all of those apples and lemons that isn’t always easy.”

She smiled up at him, his honesty and his openness catching her by surprise for what had to be the millionth time. “Oh trust me, I’m well aware of that.”

Tori, of all people, knew life could change in an instant. She’d lived it when she’d found Jeff in the closet with a mutual friend. She’d lived it when she’d become the top suspect in a murder she didn’t commit. And she’d lived it when she made the conscious decision to give love another try.

She just hadn’t counted on living it when Milo’s first love walked into the room, proving once again that pictures don’t always capture a person’s true beauty. The hair that had looked blonde in the college photographs he’d shown her was golden in real life, the exact shade reminiscent of the fair-haired beauty in Rumpelstilskin. The eyes that had looked as if they were just regular blue were actually blue as blue could be, their ocean-colored hue popping against her flawless porcelain skin. And the figure that had been that of a young college coed was suddenly all woman.

“Oh my,” Tori mumbled under her breath as she noticed every male head in the room look up at the same instant, their jaws dropping in time with hers.

“Do you know her?” Debbie asked as she wiped her flour-dusted hands across the front of her apron.

“No. Not personally. But that’s . . . um . . . Milo’s old girlfriend.”

The bakery owner looked from Tori to the woman and back again. “Oh. Okay. That’s who that is. She’s kinda pretty I guess.”

“Kinda?” she echoed. “Kinda?”

“Her name is Beth, right?”

“Yes. Beth Samuelson.”

“Victoria is a much prettier name,” Debbie said as she nodded to Emma, her college-aged employee, to take the register. “Much prettier.”

“Because let’s be honest, men notice names.” Tori heard the hint of sarcasm in her voice and was instantly ashamed. “Hey, don’t mind me, I didn’t get home until late last night and I was so wound up from sugar it was hard to sleep.”

Debbie studied her closely, her eyes nearly burning a hole into her soul. “
You’re
prettier, too.”

She laughed. “Perhaps
you’ve
had too much sugar.”

Her friend shook her head. “No, seriously, I think you’re prettier. I really do. You’re the whole package, as my Colby likes to say.”

Pulling her gaze from Milo’s former love, Tori fixed it on Debbie instead. “My package isn’t wrapped like that . . .”

“There’s something to be said for beauty that just
is
, rather than beauty that is because it’s been fussed into place.” Debbie filled the to-go cup with hot chocolate and topped it with whipped cream before handing it across the counter to Tori. “You, my friend, just
are
. She”—Debbie cast a sidelong glance at the woman now talking to Emma—“on the other hand
is
because she
tries
.”

Tori glanced back in Beth’s direction. “I don’t know . . .”

“Have you met her yet?”

She shook her head. “No. Milo invited me to go to dinner with them last night but I’d already promised Melissa I’d help with Sally’s party.”

“Then I think you should introduce yourself now. It’s like my grandmother used to say, Victoria, ‘sometimes what we imagine is far worse than reality.’ And besides, when I saw her in here yesterday morning she seemed fine to me.”

Was Debbie right? Was she making this woman out to be something she wasn’t? Besides, she knew Milo. Trusted Milo. And knowing she’d gone out of her way to be kind to someone he knew would make him happy.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” She stepped forward, her hot chocolate cup in her left hand. “Beth? Beth Samuelson?”

The woman turned, her eyes wide. “Yes?”

Tori held out her right hand. “I’m Tori. Tori Sinclair. Milo Wentworth’s girlfriend?”

“Tori Sinclair? Hmmm, I don’t remember hearing your name but I certainly know who Milo is.” Beth reached out, shook Tori’s hand firmly as a megawatt smile stretched across her face revealing snow-white teeth. “He’s quite a man, isn’t he?”

Tori swallowed along with her nod, her brain suddenly incapable of forming a coherent thought around the memory of Milo’s voice in her head . . .

“I’ve prided myself on good decisions in life—decisions that are really starting to pay off in ways I never imagined. But breaking things off with Milo all those years ago? That’s the one decision I’ve regretted.” Beth released her grip on Tori’s hand and brought it to the strap of her Coach bag. “But that’s what’s so wonderful about life, isn’t it? We have the power to change mistakes if we want to badly enough.”

She felt her jaw drop.

“Not that you should feel threatened, of course.” Beth pulled her gaze from Tori’s face and fixed it on the menu that hung on the wall behind Emma’s head. “I wouldn’t think of actively stealing another person’s man. Things like that need to be two-sided, you know?”

“I—uh—” She stopped, all intelligent responses absent from her brain.

“Hello . . . I’m Debbie Calhoun. Welcome to my bakery.”

Grateful for her friend’s interruption, Tori took a moment to catch her breath, her mind still too jumbled to truly analyze everything that had been said.

Beth looked around, her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light that streamed through the large plateglass windows along the eastern wall of the bakery. “I was in here just yesterday and fell in love with the place. I love the motif on the menu and the bags, too. It’s very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Tori closed her eyes, willed herself to remain the calm and sensible person she knew she was. Yet somehow, despite her best efforts, she found herself wanting Debbie to dislike this woman.