The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True by Eileen Goudge Page A

hodgepodge—bolts of fabric, kitchen utensils, crockery in every shape and size. She recalled her petite mother forever climbing onto a wooden stepladder to reach the highest shelves, and her father rolling up his sleeve to scoop butterscotch and peppermints from the jars on the counter.
    In the years since, housewares had gradually given way to high-end arts and crafts: hand-loomed textiles and Native-American baskets, imported glassware, one-of-a-kind ceramics. She fingered an embroidered tablecloth. A hinged box fashioned from layers of glass, in which tiny beads shifted and flowed, sat on the small pine table beside it. The one remaining vestige of her grandparents’ day was the punched-tin pie safe in which jars of honey bearing the distinctive Blessed Bee label were displayed.
    The bell tinkled. She looked up to see Anna Vincenzi pushing her sister’s wheelchair through the door. Monica, in a yellow silk tunic top and matching trousers, her auburn hair twisted into a loose knot, might have been an empress on her throne.
    “Samantha, darling, you’re just the one I wanted to see,” she trilled. “My agent’s birthday is coming up, and he’s been so very, very good to me. I need something special to show my appreciation.” She coyly fingered a curl. Her career as an actress might have ended with the accident that left her paralyzed, but Monica was still playing the part of femme fatale.
    Sam put on her warmest smile, directing it briefly at Monica before allowing it to settle on Anna, as plain and mousy as her sister was ravishing. “I know just the thing.”
    She led the way to a display of art glass against the wall. “This is our most popular executive gift.” She picked up a paperweight layered with blues and whites swirled to resemble a world globe.
    Monica gave it only a cursory glance. “Perfect. I’ll take it. Oh, and don’t bother with gift wrapping.” She waved a crimson-nailed hand at her sister. “Anna takes care of all that.”
    Poor Anna. Any sympathy Sam might have felt for Monica was eclipsed by the disgraceful way she treated her sister. It wasn’t just today; Sam had witnessed it on other occasions. It was almost as if Anna were being punished for some reason.
    Why did she put up with it? Sam wondered. Did she need the money, or like Maude, was it just a misplaced sense of loyalty? God knew Anna had enough on her hands as it was caring for their elderly mother. If only she’d lose weight, and stop wearing those awful jumpers and cardigans, maybe she’d find the confidence to break loose.
    “Why don’t you look around while I find a box for this?” Sam gestured toward the counter. “We have a new line of jewelry that just came in.” A black widow spider would be ideal for Monica, she thought.
    It wasn’t until they were heading out the door, Delarosa’s signature red-and-white striped shopping bag hooked over a handle of Monica’s wheelchair, that Sam noticed a familiar black-garbed figure among the handful of customers in back: Sister Agnes.
    Her heart sank. The plump, rosy-cheeked little nun looked as guileless as a child in a Nativity play, but lately Sam had noticed that something was always missing in her wake. Usually the items were small and fairly inexpensive: a pewter letter opener, a key ring, a miniature porcelain box. The question was, what to do about it? Sam didn’t want to make a fuss. How would it look to the other customers, accusing a nun of shoplifting? Even more upsetting was the thought of having to pay a visit to Mother Ignatius. The best plan of action, she’d decided, was to simply keep an eye out so it didn’t happen again.
    “Good morning, Sister.” Sam strolled over. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
    “Ah, no, Mrs. Kiley, would that you could.” The little nun, as Irish as the Blarney Stone, shook her head in regret. “But ’tis no sin to look, is it? You have such lovely things.”
    Sam smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” Try