loafers. And he was all mine! It still hadn’t totally sunk in.
The rest of the evening seemed to fly by. The food was fabulous—Milly’s popovers were crispy on the outside, custardy on the inside, the arugula salad rocked, and my rosemary potatoes turned out perfect. I sampled every single flavor of cheesecake, and had a small piece of Patti’s three-berry pie. I could tell that Hunter had his ears and eyes open, that part of him couldn’t help being on the job, surrounded as he was by potential murder suspects.
The other part of him thought the steak was the best he’d ever had.
Fourteen
Next morning, I woke up feeling all warm and cozy after a night of . . . well . . . never mind. Moving serenely through my coffee ritual, I let Ben out in the yard to do his thing, harvested the honey from my happy bees, who had already started their busy day, showered, poured another big cup of coffee, left still-sleeping Hunter a love note, and went to The Wild Clover to open up.
What a beautiful day. The big dinner was over, no one had ingested any toxic substances, and Gil and Camilla would soon depart, taking with them any other residual stress and tension that seemed to have accompanied them on their trip. The truth about Nova’s death would emerge, and turn out to be something we could all live with. No murder, no suspects, no worries. A night of love can change this girl’s entire perspective on life.
Even my personal life was back on track. Yes, Hunter and I had made up. Plus my mother was persona non grata and even Johnny Jay wasn’t around to harass me. Inside The Wild Clover, I raised my eyes to the overhead windows where stained glass from the building’s previous life as a church still cast rays of streaked sunlight into the interior. I smiled again, feeling excited and happy about the new day.
Life was good.
Then Lori Spandle walked into the store.
“Find any more dead bodies in your backyard?” she said with a smirk.
I could think of one particular body I wouldn’t mind adding to the compost heap. Or dropping off in the deepest part of the river with lead weights around her ankles.
Lori kept going. “Your mother is just about ready to sign on the dotted line. We’re setting up the meeting. Want to witness the transaction?”
“Lori, don’t you have a broom to catch?”
“Who else but another Fischer would live next door to that swarm of dangerous bees? Your mother is used to creepy-crawly things. She has you.”
I punched a finger into Lori’s rib cage, directly between her big boobs. “I’m in the process of eliminating riffraff from my life.” I poked again. “If you aren’t here to buy my products, your name will move to the very top of the list of poor contributors to my general well-being. I’m cleaning house, so shop or get lost.”
“Ewwww. Aren’t we testy today?”
Just then, Stanley Peck showed up and ended the standoff. “Carrie Ann said I should come by to learn how to open up the store,” he said to me, ignoring Lori. “Care to show me how?”
That cousin of mine was turning out to be a top-notch organizer. Who knew that once she came out of her drunken stupor she’d have real people skills? The store looked shiny clean, the displays twinkled, and she was positioning new hires for the future. If she kept it up, I wouldn’t have to worry about Holly’s no-shows or my mother’s too-many-shows. Because they wouldn’t be on the schedule at all.
“What are you standing around for?” Stanley said to Lori, knowing our history. He shoved a shopping basket at her. “Get cracking.”
Stanley has always been a close friend and our shared interest in beekeeping has now sealed our bond forever. He has his drawbacks as a customer service representative, though, which is only one of the hats my staff has to wear. First of all, he doesn’t tolerate BS, which we get a lot of at the store. Second of all, his method of communicating his disapproval typically involves
The rest of the evening seemed to fly by. The food was fabulous—Milly’s popovers were crispy on the outside, custardy on the inside, the arugula salad rocked, and my rosemary potatoes turned out perfect. I sampled every single flavor of cheesecake, and had a small piece of Patti’s three-berry pie. I could tell that Hunter had his ears and eyes open, that part of him couldn’t help being on the job, surrounded as he was by potential murder suspects.
The other part of him thought the steak was the best he’d ever had.
Fourteen
Next morning, I woke up feeling all warm and cozy after a night of . . . well . . . never mind. Moving serenely through my coffee ritual, I let Ben out in the yard to do his thing, harvested the honey from my happy bees, who had already started their busy day, showered, poured another big cup of coffee, left still-sleeping Hunter a love note, and went to The Wild Clover to open up.
What a beautiful day. The big dinner was over, no one had ingested any toxic substances, and Gil and Camilla would soon depart, taking with them any other residual stress and tension that seemed to have accompanied them on their trip. The truth about Nova’s death would emerge, and turn out to be something we could all live with. No murder, no suspects, no worries. A night of love can change this girl’s entire perspective on life.
Even my personal life was back on track. Yes, Hunter and I had made up. Plus my mother was persona non grata and even Johnny Jay wasn’t around to harass me. Inside The Wild Clover, I raised my eyes to the overhead windows where stained glass from the building’s previous life as a church still cast rays of streaked sunlight into the interior. I smiled again, feeling excited and happy about the new day.
Life was good.
Then Lori Spandle walked into the store.
“Find any more dead bodies in your backyard?” she said with a smirk.
I could think of one particular body I wouldn’t mind adding to the compost heap. Or dropping off in the deepest part of the river with lead weights around her ankles.
Lori kept going. “Your mother is just about ready to sign on the dotted line. We’re setting up the meeting. Want to witness the transaction?”
“Lori, don’t you have a broom to catch?”
“Who else but another Fischer would live next door to that swarm of dangerous bees? Your mother is used to creepy-crawly things. She has you.”
I punched a finger into Lori’s rib cage, directly between her big boobs. “I’m in the process of eliminating riffraff from my life.” I poked again. “If you aren’t here to buy my products, your name will move to the very top of the list of poor contributors to my general well-being. I’m cleaning house, so shop or get lost.”
“Ewwww. Aren’t we testy today?”
Just then, Stanley Peck showed up and ended the standoff. “Carrie Ann said I should come by to learn how to open up the store,” he said to me, ignoring Lori. “Care to show me how?”
That cousin of mine was turning out to be a top-notch organizer. Who knew that once she came out of her drunken stupor she’d have real people skills? The store looked shiny clean, the displays twinkled, and she was positioning new hires for the future. If she kept it up, I wouldn’t have to worry about Holly’s no-shows or my mother’s too-many-shows. Because they wouldn’t be on the schedule at all.
“What are you standing around for?” Stanley said to Lori, knowing our history. He shoved a shopping basket at her. “Get cracking.”
Stanley has always been a close friend and our shared interest in beekeeping has now sealed our bond forever. He has his drawbacks as a customer service representative, though, which is only one of the hats my staff has to wear. First of all, he doesn’t tolerate BS, which we get a lot of at the store. Second of all, his method of communicating his disapproval typically involves
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