Plaster and Poison by Jennie Bentley Page B

well as a smallish dormer with a desk and chair. That’s where the old bathroom used to be. And of course the new bathroom is sublime, with green glass tiles, a double shower, and a jetted whirlpool tub. Everything the honeymooning couple could wish for.
“Oh!” Mom said, looking around, “this is wonderful!”
Kate smiled. It looked strained, but it was a smile.
“Derek did most of the work,” I said. It wasn’t my intention to denigrate Kate’s contribution, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to sing Derek’s praises to my mom.
“Really?” Mom glanced at Kate, who nodded. “Handsome and talented. He does beautiful work.”
She looked around appreciatively. Kate looked at me, her eyebrows signaling You owe me one.
I turned my back to her to address my mother. “I told you he was cute, didn’t I?”
“Gag me,” Kate muttered behind my back.
Mom giggled. “Yes, Avery, you did. And you were right. He’s definitely cute. And good with his hands.”
She winked. Kate rolled her eyes. I blushed.
Luckily I was saved from having to comment by the arrival of the man himself, carrying two suitcases and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Behind him came Noel, carrying the other two suitcases. Obviously my mom had packed for every contingency.
Mom’s new husband is nothing like what you might expect, considering that he swept her so thoroughly off her feet. I know I was surprised the first time I met him.
My dad was tall, blond, and good-looking: a somewhat similar physical type to Derek. When Mom told me she had met a new man, I figured he’d look kind of like dad did. Maybe not tall and blond exactly, but tallish, handsome, well-dressed . . . all the things I associated with my father, and as a result, with what my mother liked. In addition to that, since I knew Noel was some kind of big shot in television, I pictured someone sort of like George Hamilton: a California high roller, tanned and trim, with blinding white teeth and a face lift.
Noel is short for a man, a mere five feet six or so, and portly. He has no hair left, and his scalp looks like he buffs it with a towel every morning. What hair he used to have seems to have migrated to his eyebrows, which are thick and bushy and snow white. His face looks lived in, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lines bracketing his mouth—from smiling rather than frowning—and although he has his own teeth, and they’re perfectly serviceable, they don’t cause snow blindness when he smiles.
He was smiling now. “Hello, Avery!”
“Hi, Noel,” I smiled back. I’d seen him downstairs, but we hadn’t had the opportunity to really greet one another properly. Now I wandered over and pecked him on the cheek, leaving Kate to referee the first meeting between Mom and Derek. Short as my stepfather is, I still had to go up on my toes. “How was the drive?”
“Oh, no problem.” He put the suitcases down and shrugged his chubby shoulders. Or maybe he was just circulating them after carrying my mother’s bags up two flights of stairs. “The roads were slick, and we took it slow to get a good look around. Your mother hasn’t been up to this part of the country for years, and I’ve never spent much time in rural New England. It looks very different from California.”
“I bet. I’ve never spent much time in California, just that one time I came out for the wedding last year, but I remember thinking it looked like a different world.”
“We should get you out there again sometime,” Noel said. “You know you’re always welcome, Avery. We have plenty of room. And I know Rosie has missed seeing you.”
My mother’s name is Rosemary. The first time I heard Noel call her Rosie, it was a bit of a fazer, but I’ve gotten used to it. She doesn’t seem to mind, and as long as she doesn’t, I guess I can’t.
“That’d be nice,” I said, with a quick sideways glance at Derek. Just how hard would it be to pry him away from Waterfield for a week or two? Would he want to visit California?
Noel followed my gaze to where