hallway and upstairs to my room. I did not want to have to witness Francine making a fuss over Caldwell at the end of our nondate.
“Thanks for coming along,” I said as I slipped around them and headed for the stairs.
“Wouldn’t you like a glass of wine?” he asked.
Francine turned and seconded, “Please join us.”
Her use of the word us was what stopped me from even considering joining them. If they were an “us,” I did not want to know it tonight. I wanted to keep my memory of this evening.
“Maybe some other time. I’m exhausted.” I reached the stairs and went up into the darkness. I stumbled down the hall and found the door to my room and unlocked it. Inside I turned on the light and leaned against the door, closing my eyes and imagining the kiss that Caldwell might have given me.
* * *
After scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed, but instead of feeling tired, my body felt tightly wired. I wasn’t used to this level ofactivity, plus I was wishing I had stayed for a glass of wine.
I could hear Caldwell and Francine murmuring below me, and, while I wondered what they were talking about, I resisted eavesdropping. But something in me drooped. I had had such a nice night. With Caldwell. He was truly a gentle man. Then I’d learned that Howard had stolen his partner away. Even so, I couldn’t believe he would have had anything to do with Howard’s death. But what if he had?
I had to believe Howard’s death was most likely still the result of an accidental overdose, no matter what Annette thought. Maybe she handed him two pills by mistake. Maybe he had taken one on his own earlier and then swallowed the one she gave him.
But if Caldwell was interested in this French hussy, this Madame Frou-Frou, I stood no chance with him. Plus, it was all too much for me right now.
The last thing I needed to do was fall for a man who lived halfway across the planet from me, who thought I was a mystery writer, and didn’t know I had thought of killing my last beau. That final fact might put anyone off the thought of dating me.
Since it was 11:00 P.M in London, it would be 5:00 P.M in Sunshine Valley. Perfect timing. Rosie always took a break at five. She was religiouslystructured about her day. Five o’clock was time for her cup of Postum (caffeine made her go all blotchy and hyperventilate) and a piece of the darkest chocolate she could find. Not a large piece. She could make a square or two last for her whole break, nibbling at the chocolate like a mouse.
Rosie picked up before the second ring. She sounded as if she was in midbite of chocolate.
“Rosie?”
“Karen? Are you still in England?”
“Of course I’m still here.”
“I can’t imagine it. What are you doing at this very moment?”
“Nothing exciting. Sitting in bed. But it’s a very nice bed with very fluffy pillows and very crisp sheets.”
“Oohh, sounds so British.”
“I went to see Macbeth tonight.”
“Was it gory?”
“A bit. Not bad. They played the ghost offstage.”
“Hmm. Which means Macbeth was mad. Just as I suspected.”
“I nearly fainted during the bloodstain scene,” I confessed. “I think finding that dead man has taken a toll on me.”
“Any more news on how he died?”
“Overdose of digitalis—but his wife claims that’simpossible, that she controlled the meds and he couldn’t have taken too much.”
“Did you fall down when you almost fainted?” Rosie asked.
“No, thank goodness, the man who owns the B and B I’m staying at was with me and he caught me.”
“He went with you?”
“I had an extra ticket because of Dave.”
“Poophead Dave. Forget about him. What is this man like?”
“Well, you know I told you about him. He runs a B and B and he cooks and he’s extremely nice and everything here is perfectly neat and tidy.”
“Sounds like a nice host.” She cleared her throat. “How are his books?”
“That’s the best part. He has an amazing
“Thanks for coming along,” I said as I slipped around them and headed for the stairs.
“Wouldn’t you like a glass of wine?” he asked.
Francine turned and seconded, “Please join us.”
Her use of the word us was what stopped me from even considering joining them. If they were an “us,” I did not want to know it tonight. I wanted to keep my memory of this evening.
“Maybe some other time. I’m exhausted.” I reached the stairs and went up into the darkness. I stumbled down the hall and found the door to my room and unlocked it. Inside I turned on the light and leaned against the door, closing my eyes and imagining the kiss that Caldwell might have given me.
* * *
After scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed, but instead of feeling tired, my body felt tightly wired. I wasn’t used to this level ofactivity, plus I was wishing I had stayed for a glass of wine.
I could hear Caldwell and Francine murmuring below me, and, while I wondered what they were talking about, I resisted eavesdropping. But something in me drooped. I had had such a nice night. With Caldwell. He was truly a gentle man. Then I’d learned that Howard had stolen his partner away. Even so, I couldn’t believe he would have had anything to do with Howard’s death. But what if he had?
I had to believe Howard’s death was most likely still the result of an accidental overdose, no matter what Annette thought. Maybe she handed him two pills by mistake. Maybe he had taken one on his own earlier and then swallowed the one she gave him.
But if Caldwell was interested in this French hussy, this Madame Frou-Frou, I stood no chance with him. Plus, it was all too much for me right now.
The last thing I needed to do was fall for a man who lived halfway across the planet from me, who thought I was a mystery writer, and didn’t know I had thought of killing my last beau. That final fact might put anyone off the thought of dating me.
Since it was 11:00 P.M in London, it would be 5:00 P.M in Sunshine Valley. Perfect timing. Rosie always took a break at five. She was religiouslystructured about her day. Five o’clock was time for her cup of Postum (caffeine made her go all blotchy and hyperventilate) and a piece of the darkest chocolate she could find. Not a large piece. She could make a square or two last for her whole break, nibbling at the chocolate like a mouse.
Rosie picked up before the second ring. She sounded as if she was in midbite of chocolate.
“Rosie?”
“Karen? Are you still in England?”
“Of course I’m still here.”
“I can’t imagine it. What are you doing at this very moment?”
“Nothing exciting. Sitting in bed. But it’s a very nice bed with very fluffy pillows and very crisp sheets.”
“Oohh, sounds so British.”
“I went to see Macbeth tonight.”
“Was it gory?”
“A bit. Not bad. They played the ghost offstage.”
“Hmm. Which means Macbeth was mad. Just as I suspected.”
“I nearly fainted during the bloodstain scene,” I confessed. “I think finding that dead man has taken a toll on me.”
“Any more news on how he died?”
“Overdose of digitalis—but his wife claims that’simpossible, that she controlled the meds and he couldn’t have taken too much.”
“Did you fall down when you almost fainted?” Rosie asked.
“No, thank goodness, the man who owns the B and B I’m staying at was with me and he caught me.”
“He went with you?”
“I had an extra ticket because of Dave.”
“Poophead Dave. Forget about him. What is this man like?”
“Well, you know I told you about him. He runs a B and B and he cooks and he’s extremely nice and everything here is perfectly neat and tidy.”
“Sounds like a nice host.” She cleared her throat. “How are his books?”
“That’s the best part. He has an amazing
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