* * *
Maggie watched over Sera’s shoulder as she typed in the URL for ThePerfectFit.com and clicked through the links to Maggie’s profile. Sera stood and gestured for Maggie to take her seat.
Maggie plopped into the chair. “What do I do now?”
Sera pointed to the screen. “Click on this private message button and type in his screen name. It works just like Facebook messaging.”
“I’ve never done that. Pam always messages me and I just respond.”
“It’s easy, Maggie. You can do this.”
Her hands hovering over the keyboard, Maggie drew in a breath, then let it out.
Sera laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that big a deal.”
To her. But to Maggie, this felt like jaywalking across Main Street in the altogether. “What if he doesn’t answer?”
“He’ll answer.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Type.” She didn’t pat Maggie’s shoulder. She squeezed. And Sera had very strong hands. Ow.
Maggie sat there for a minute. “It’s like peeing. I can’t do this if you’re standing there watching me.”
“Want me to turn on the kitchen sink?”
“I’m serious, Sera.” Maggie looked up at her friend. “I need to do this by myself.”
Sera’s nod was slow and considering. “I’ll be right outside the room if you need me.”
Once she was gone, Maggie tried to formulate sentences in her mind, but they were all a jumble of words and letters.
Just type something. Anything.
Finally, she began clicking the keys. Slowly, but she was typing.
Dear DanOfYourDreams,
I recently received the souvenir picture from our date at Llewellyn Farm, and it made me realize I never followed up to tell you how much I enjoyed myself.
I’d love to see you again. A masquerade party is being held here in Summer Shoals tomorrow - on Halloween. Would you consider going as my date?
DIYDarling
Maggie reread the note twice and then sent it out to the universe. Well, wherever emails went. She doubted he’d even respond, but if he didn’t, she had no idea what Plan B would be.
She pushed away from the desk to head outside. Surely she could find something around here to fix. That would make her feel in control again. But as she walked out of the room, she heard a ping from the computer. Her heart caught. Could he have answered that quickly?
She peered around the corner into the kitchen like a detective checking for an all-clear. There on the computer screen was a big envelope pop-up thingie.
That meant mail, right? She had mail. From him.
“Come quick,” Maggie called to Sera, then stood frozen, staring at the screen.
“What’s the matter?” Sera raced back into the room. “Are you okay?”
Maggie pointed.
Sera slid into the chair, then looked back at Maggie with a mile-wide grin. “You rock, girl. Let’s see what he said.”
Maggie held her breath, and Sera began to read aloud.
“Dear DIYDarling,
I enjoyed our date too. I’ve never seen a woman look so pretty in beekeeper’s coveralls.
I’d love to join you at the masquerade party, but let’s make it even more fun by keeping it between the two of us. Just let me know the time and place.
I’ll come as Friar Tuck. What will you be wearing?
With all my affection,
DanOfYourDreams”
Sera turned and gave Maggie a high five. “He went for it! Only now I’m worried he’s really sweet on you.”
Abby Ruth clomped into the room. “Who’s sweet on who?”
“Dan’s already returned Maggie’s message and said yes to the masquerade.”
“Good work, Mags,” Abby Ruth said. “We have this guy where we want him.”
Not exactly, because Maggie had wanted him to be real. But he wasn’t. He was just a liar. “I need a costume.”
“How about a zombie?” Abby Ruth offered. “I love the ones with hatchets stuck in their heads.”
“You would,” Sera said. “But Maggie’s not going as a corpse. She needs to be pretty.”
But Maggie knew she wouldn’t ever feel pretty around Dan again because he sure wasn’t her DanOfYourDreams.
“What’s he dressing as?” Abby Ruth asked.
“Friar Tuck,” Maggie told her.
“A priest? That’s just wrong for a date,” Abby Ruth said.
“I know.” Sera hopped up and twirled, stretching out her arms as though holding a full skirt. “You can be Maid Marian. You’ll be lovely!”
Chapter 24
Maggie gazed into the mirror at the long curls Sera had fashioned with a curling iron and some industrial-strength hairspray. Maybe Laura from Little House on the Prairie or Maid Marian, it could go either way.
And although Maggie now knew her DanOfYourDreams wasn’t the man of her dreams, she was still a little nervous about the date.
Probably because Sera had insisted Maggie wear this flowing velvet skirt and a white peasant blouse cinched with one of those bustier things. It squeezed her ribcage and lifted the girls until they were in danger of spilling over into Maggie’s lap.
“Are you sure we don’t have time to stitch some lace onto this shirt?” she asked Sera.
“We want Friar Tuck distracted by your…assets,” Sera said, glancing down at Maggie’s cleavage. “That way, we can take him down when he’s least suspecting it.”
“I thought friars were supposed to be celibate.”
“I’m not even trying to second-guess this guy anymore.” Sera shoved a frilly handkerchief between Maggie’s boobs.
“Hey, I can tuck that in and—”
“Distraction, Mags. It’s all about kicking the guy where he’s weakest. One look at that little hanky and the only thing he’ll be thinking of is diving headfirst into your bosom.”
Lordy, why had she ever agreed to this? Any man who wanted to dive into Maggie’s girls needed not only a good eye exam but a thorough head check too. “Why do you get to go as a ninja?”
“Because I’m not trying to catch a man.” Sera smiled and brushed a hand down her skintight black outfit. “Besides, this costume might come in handy tonight.”
“Do you think Abby Ruth has killed Angelina yet?”
“Guess we’ll know if there’s fresh dirt under the B&B’s rose bushes.”
“She really came through for Summer Haven.” Maggie turned so she didn’t have to look at herself in the mirror anymore. “I know kowtowing to Angelina is a huge stretch for her.”
“Doesn’t hurt for any of us to eat a little humble pie every once in a while.” Sera smiled and pinned a couple of curls on the crown of Maggie’s head. “You really are beautiful, you know that, right?”
Maggie ducked her head and mumbled a few sounds that didn’t even make words.
“You did notice the way Bruce looked at you yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Bruce?” Maggie’s head popped back up. “The IT guy at Dogwood Ridge?”
“I spotted stars in his eyes.”
“Oh, go on.”
“I’m completely serious.”
“Do you think he’ll be at the party tonight?” Maybe the evening would be about more than taking down the man who’d raised Maggie’s hopes.
“On a magic night like this,” Sera said with a wink, “I’d say anything could happen.”
* * *
In the prison kitchen, Lillian reviewed the menu with the staff one last time. From mini ham biscuit appetizers to the banana pudding, this menu had pure Southern written all over it. If the way to a man’s heart was his stomach, this menu would have that Bureau of Prisons team wanting to honeymoon at Walter Stiles Prison Camp. They’d practiced these dishes to darn near perfection. The final garnish tweaks they’d discussed put the crumble on the cobbler. She prayed the meal would be flawless.
Martha strolled over with a clipboard in her arm
s. “Shipshape,” she reported. “Chef Ramsay would drool to work in our kitchen.”
A few months ago, Lillian would’ve had no idea who the potty-mouth Englishman was, but the inmates here had a thing for reality TV, and Hell’s Kitchen and Kitchen Nightmares were favorites. Lillian had to admit that, aside from the bleeping words he wielded as effectively as his knives, he was nothing short of amazing.
“I guess we’re as ready as we’re going to be. I pray those women don’t burn the meal. I don’t know how those Broadway actors do it. There’s no way they can practice as much as we have…and we’re still about a mile from perfection.”
Martha looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek. “I’d thank you to be a little more respectful to my girls. They’re doing the best they can and doing it for me. Not you.”
Lil felt the verbal knife in her back. She hoped like heck Martha wasn’t going to do anything to sabotage the day. Dixie’s feral cat comment kept popping up in her mind.
It was time to give the kitty a bright ball of yarn. Anything to keep her from sinking her claws into Lil. “I chatted with Maggie earlier.”
Her face lighting up, Martha stepped closer. “They found Creeping Tom.”
“Not exactly, but they’ve arranged for another date, which means it’s only a matter of time.”
“Well, that’s the kind of news I like to hear.” Martha looped her arm through Lil’s as if they were besties rather than off-again-on-again frenemies. “They’re wrapping up their end of the deal, which means we can concentrate on impressing the hell out of the BOP.”
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, but if I don’t tee-totally mess up the mock interviews, we should be in good shape.” She tried to infuse her words with confidence rather than the anxiety bubbling inside her. Exhausting was the only way she could describe the efforts she’d put into making sure WSPC and Warden Nell Proctor came out of this review with a glowing report. One that Lillian prayed would strike the prison from the closures list and launch her back to Summer Haven in record time.
“Let’s go.” Lillian and Martha strolled out of the cafeteria together. “We have just enough time to get everything in the classroom set up, then we can get ready.” Lillian led the way, not waiting for Martha to answer. Usually she’d let the woman act like she was running the show, but today she was driving.
One of the guards stepped onto the sidewalk in front of them. “Martha, you have a visitor.”
Martha looked at Lil and shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”
“It’s your niece,” the guard said.
“I’m on my way.” Martha turned to Lil, her color paling to the same shade as her faded khaki shirt. “Something’s wrong. Her visits are never this close together.”
“Calm down. You don’t know that.”
Martha sucked in a breath and shook her head.
“Go on,” Lil said. “I’ll set up the room and meet you later.”
“No. You’re coming with me.” She took Lil by the hand and started marching toward the visiting area.
“Hold on a second.” Lillian stumbled over her own feet as Martha nearly dragged her along. “We’ve worked too hard on this plan to let anything slip now, and the clock is ticking. I can’t be late.”
Martha never broke stride. “You’ve got half an hour to spare. We’re in this together, you and me. We’ll just be sure everything is okay and then we’ll get back on schedule.”
A fifty-yard dash later, Martha was huffing like a woman giving birth. When they arrived in the visitors’ room, she did a hip whip move like a Roller Derby girl, landing her and Lil in the chairs across from her niece. “Is everything okay?”
Martha’s niece smiled, then burst into tears. “You were right. OnceUponATom was some kind of kook. Look.” She held out a small florist envelope.
Martha grabbed it and tugged out the card.
Dear WannaBeAMomma,
Thank you for registering with ThePerfectFit.com. However, it has come to our attention that you do not fit our site’s demographic so your profile is being disabled. If you should choose to try online dating again in the future, we would recommend a site better suited to your unique needs.
Our best wishes in your search for love.
Sincerely,
ThePerfectFit.com
Martha sighed. “I hate to say I told you so, but that paintball had trouble written all over it. When did you get this?”
“Apparently a while ago. I expected him to contact me after he sent me the flowers. When I didn’t hear from him by the next day, I tried to go online and thank him. But my account had been locked out. I thought it was just some kind of technical glitch. Then, as the flowers wilted—”
“You didn’t get the Davilo green thumb.”
“’Fraid not.” She sniffed back the tears. “Anyway, when the flowers died, I saw the envelope tucked in the leaves.”
“You should be glad it’s over. This guy is a complete d-bag.” Martha flopped back in her chair and glared at her niece. “That’ll teach you to try to find a man online.”
“Then how am I supposed to meet anyone?”
“Maybe try the old-fashioned way like going to bars.”
“Or church,” Lil added. “You’ll meet someone nice one day.” Her stomach clenched knowing that this meant the whole cure to her septic problems had just taken a giant flush. Martha was an eye-for-an eye kind of gal, and she had no reason in the world to call in that favor from her septic guy now.
“I didn’t mean to worry you, Aunt Martha. I just thought I’d better—”
“Martha, if I don’t leave here right now,” Lil said, “I won’t have enough time to set up for the interviewing class. Feel free to stay and chat with your niece, but I have to—”
“Not on your life, Miss H&M. If you’re going, I’m going too.”
They said hurried goodbyes to Martha’s niece and hustled out of the visitors’ room.
“Thank goodness.” Martha’s breath was heavy as they jogged through the courtyard. “Now that’s completely behind us, we can focus on this little project.”
“What about OnceUponATom?”
“I could care less who that wacko is now or who he dates as long as it isn’t my niece.”
Lillian didn’t know why the words stung so much. She’d known that was what Martha would say. “I have to call Maggie immediately. Now that your niece is out of harm’s way, I don’t want my girls hunting Tom down and getting themselves into any trouble—or worse, putting themselves in danger.”
“I’m sure he’s harmless,” Martha said.
Lillian stopped dead in her tracks. “Just stop that. This is not all about you anymore.” She turned and walked to the main hall to make that call, leaving Martha standing there with her mouth open.
After waiting in line for nearly ten precious minutes that she should have used preparing for the BOP, Lillian finally got her turn at the phone. Three tries to the house phone, and she got nothing but the answering machine. No one could sleep through that many rings. She left a third message. “Mags, in case you didn’t get the other two messages, stop chasing down that dating-site guy. The deal with Martha is off. We need to go to plan B on the septic system. I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you to begin with. I’ll find a way to get the money.”
Lillian swallowed hard.
She’d been so busy telling Martha that she thought everything was always about her that she hadn’t even taken inventory of her own behavior. Why was she putting Summer Haven at the top of every list? That house wasn’t Maggie’s priority, but darned if she hadn’t stepped to the plate like she was family. It was high time Lil readjusted her own priorities.
But how on earth would she get the money to get the care and feeding of the monster estate under control?
Selling dribs and drabs of furniture was not even a bandage to the problem.
There was only one thing, besides the estate itself, that might be worth enough to make a difference.
She prayed that Tucker Torpedo was really worth what Abby Ruth Cady had said it was, because she was getting ready to break that promise to Daddy.
She was left with absolutely no other choice. Daddy, I have a feeling you’d have told me to do this a long time ago.
* * *
Maggie and Sera decided to leave for the masquerade party early for two reasons. One, they wanted to be there before the friar arrived and two, Abby Ruth probably needed moral support.
When they arrived, a few cars were lined on either side of the street, but it was clear the hordes hadn’t yet arrived. Sera parked behind Abby Ruth’s truck.
Maggie opened the door and scooped her heavy skirt over her arm. Lord, the insides of her thighs were sweating, and the extra air flow was welcome.
Angelina gave an elbow-wrist wave from the B&B’s front porch. She was dressed as Glinda the Good Witch, and her white dress sparkled with enough glitter to make a unicorn jealous.
Maggie and Sera waved back and headed for the B&B’s backyard. They were stepping through the arbor when the whine of a golf cart came from behind them.
“Move it or lose it,” the driver hollered.
They each jumped to the side to let the cart barrel through the opening.
“Is that Abby Ruth…?” Maggie choked out.
“It’s her voice,” Sera said.
The Wicked Witch of the West was driving that golf cart as if she were competing in a rally car race instead of puttering around a neighborhood party. Her broom was bungee-strapped to the roof, and the straw end fluttered as she zoomed away.
“That’s a little extreme,” Maggie said, “even for Abby Ruth.”
“Did you notice something sitting on her shoulder?”
“She was moving too fast for me to see.”
Sera grabbed Maggie’s hand. “I know we’re here to catch a creep, but I will kick myself forever if we don’t tease Abby Ruth first.”
They power-walked across the lawn and finally caught up with the golf cart, parked next to what looked like a cattle trough full of water and apples. The Wicked Witch of the West was dumping another bag of Gala apples into the tub.
Fit to Be Tied Page 21
