and sank into her desk chair, her gaze riveted on the foil-wrapped plate positioned dead center on her desk. A note, in Leona’s pristine handwriting, was taped to the top.
Suddenly, the one-track mind that had gotten her to that exact spot didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Because if she opened the note and it said something about the murder, Tori would be an accomplice after the fact if she didn’t share what she knew with the authorities. If she didn’t open it at all, any worry she had about Leona’s involvement in Anita’s demise would remain just that. Worry.
Worry couldn’t put you on a stand.
Worry couldn’t lock a friend in jail.
And worry didn’t necessarily entail a guilty conscience if it went unshared.
Or did it?
“Ugh,” Tori moaned. She reached outward, pulled the plate and its accompanying note in her direction, the sound of her heart beating double time in her ears. Slowly, carefully, she opened the envelope and extracted a folded notecard from inside.
Victoria,
While I must take credit for the vast majority of your successes since coming to Sweet Briar, I feel it necessary to applaud you for one of your very own.
Ms. Belise’s nut allergy, as you so smartly suggested, proved to be the perfect way to get rid of her once and for all.
Let’s go to dinner soon and celebrate, shall we?
All the best, Leona
The beating in her ears stopped as her mouth gaped open. Leona had done it, she’d actually done it… .
Tori’s mouth went dry as she read the note a second and third time, the words and their meaning remaining unchanged no matter how many times she sent up a mental prayer for the contrary.
“Hey there, sweetheart, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
She read the note a fourth time. Still, no change.
“Tori? You okay?”
Looking up, she saw Milo standing in the doorway, worry etched in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him how glad she was to see him, yet nothing came out.
In an instant, her fiancé was at her side, crouching beside her chair as he looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nina’s baby?”
Nina’s baby…
“Hey.” He stood, pulled her from her chair, and wrapped her in his arms. “Talk to me, Tori. What’s going on?”
She tried to find words that wouldn’t make her sound like an idiot. But she failed. “Margaret Louise… put in walnuts… and now she’s dead.”
Milo jumped back, horror evident where worry had been only seconds earlier. “Leona is dead? When? How?”
The babbling continued. “I didn’t tell her to… I just said it… and now”—she pointed at the brownies—“she’s gonna be sitting in an electric chair and she doesn’t even cook !”
She felt his hands on her shoulders as he turned them both around until he was able to lean against her desk. “Tori, slow down. I’m not following a thing you’re saying. Can you take it from the top? Slowly?”
Take it from the top…
She blinked once, twice, Milo’s face suddenly coming into focus.
Get a grip, Tori… .
“What’s this about Leona?” he prompted.
She inhaled slowly, willed herself to find a coherent explanation before the man in front of her went running for the hills, her engagement ring in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do with all of this.” Slowly, she pointed at the foil-wrapped plate, its contents all but certain.
“This?” He swiveled his body to the left just long enough to retrieve the plate and peel back its covering. A smile crept across his face. “Um, Tori… these are brownies.”
She swallowed.
“I know.”
“Since when have you had a problem knowing what to do with a brownie?” he teased, retrieving the top bar from the mound on the plate and waving it under her nose.
Pushing it away, she shook her head. “Please, Milo, that’s not funny.”
He dropped the brownie back onto the plate and set it down on her desk once again. “Okay, I’m lost. What’s
Suddenly, the one-track mind that had gotten her to that exact spot didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Because if she opened the note and it said something about the murder, Tori would be an accomplice after the fact if she didn’t share what she knew with the authorities. If she didn’t open it at all, any worry she had about Leona’s involvement in Anita’s demise would remain just that. Worry.
Worry couldn’t put you on a stand.
Worry couldn’t lock a friend in jail.
And worry didn’t necessarily entail a guilty conscience if it went unshared.
Or did it?
“Ugh,” Tori moaned. She reached outward, pulled the plate and its accompanying note in her direction, the sound of her heart beating double time in her ears. Slowly, carefully, she opened the envelope and extracted a folded notecard from inside.
Victoria,
While I must take credit for the vast majority of your successes since coming to Sweet Briar, I feel it necessary to applaud you for one of your very own.
Ms. Belise’s nut allergy, as you so smartly suggested, proved to be the perfect way to get rid of her once and for all.
Let’s go to dinner soon and celebrate, shall we?
All the best, Leona
The beating in her ears stopped as her mouth gaped open. Leona had done it, she’d actually done it… .
Tori’s mouth went dry as she read the note a second and third time, the words and their meaning remaining unchanged no matter how many times she sent up a mental prayer for the contrary.
“Hey there, sweetheart, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
She read the note a fourth time. Still, no change.
“Tori? You okay?”
Looking up, she saw Milo standing in the doorway, worry etched in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him how glad she was to see him, yet nothing came out.
In an instant, her fiancé was at her side, crouching beside her chair as he looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nina’s baby?”
Nina’s baby…
“Hey.” He stood, pulled her from her chair, and wrapped her in his arms. “Talk to me, Tori. What’s going on?”
She tried to find words that wouldn’t make her sound like an idiot. But she failed. “Margaret Louise… put in walnuts… and now she’s dead.”
Milo jumped back, horror evident where worry had been only seconds earlier. “Leona is dead? When? How?”
The babbling continued. “I didn’t tell her to… I just said it… and now”—she pointed at the brownies—“she’s gonna be sitting in an electric chair and she doesn’t even cook !”
She felt his hands on her shoulders as he turned them both around until he was able to lean against her desk. “Tori, slow down. I’m not following a thing you’re saying. Can you take it from the top? Slowly?”
Take it from the top…
She blinked once, twice, Milo’s face suddenly coming into focus.
Get a grip, Tori… .
“What’s this about Leona?” he prompted.
She inhaled slowly, willed herself to find a coherent explanation before the man in front of her went running for the hills, her engagement ring in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do with all of this.” Slowly, she pointed at the foil-wrapped plate, its contents all but certain.
“This?” He swiveled his body to the left just long enough to retrieve the plate and peel back its covering. A smile crept across his face. “Um, Tori… these are brownies.”
She swallowed.
“I know.”
“Since when have you had a problem knowing what to do with a brownie?” he teased, retrieving the top bar from the mound on the plate and waving it under her nose.
Pushing it away, she shook her head. “Please, Milo, that’s not funny.”
He dropped the brownie back onto the plate and set it down on her desk once again. “Okay, I’m lost. What’s
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