by Leslie Meier
Hearing this, Lucy went straight to the Internet and Googled “low calorie dessert recipes.”
“We have a lot of listings this week,” said Phyllis, slapping a thick pile of press releases down on the reception counter. “I guess Corney’s been busy twisting arms for this Love Is Best on the Coast promotion.”
“I promised Sue I’d enter her dessert contest,” grumbled Lucy, scrolling down the list of recipes that had magically appeared. “It’s not fair. I’m trying not to think about food.”
“Have the girls do it.” Phyllis was filing the press releases by date in an accordion file that was rather the worse for wear.
“They’re busy with their jobs.” Lucy’s eye was caught by a recipe for low-fat cheesecake when the phone rang; it was Sue. “Funny you should call. I was just surfing the Web looking for a dessert recipe.”
“Quiet day at the paper?” asked Sue.
“You could say that,” said Lucy. “Phyllis put up some Valentine’s decorations.”
“Well, I have some news but it’s not for publication,” said Sue, in a low voice.
“Do tell,” said Lucy, perking up.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” began Sue. “Remember how you saw Brad Cashman messing around with that woman in the chocolate shop?”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Tamzin?”
“Yeah. That’s her. Chris said the phone was ringing all night. It was this Tamzin calling Brad.”
“That’s kind of pushy,” said Lucy.
“According to Chris, it got so bad that Brad wouldn’t take the calls. He actually turned off the phone.”
“How did he explain it to Chris?” asked Lucy.
“He told her he’d flirted with Tamzin at the shop but that was all there was to it. He didn’t understand why she was acting like this and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with her.”
“I think it was a bit more than flirting,” said Lucy.
“I think you’re right,” said Sue, “because when she couldn’t get through on the phone, Tamzin actually went to their house and made a terrific scene.”
Lucy’s jaw literally dropped. “What did she do?”
“Oh, she was screaming and crying and running around trying to grab Brad and kiss him, literally throwing herself at him while Chris and the girls watched.”
“No!”
“Yes. She wouldn’t stop. They couldn’t get her to leave. They had to threaten to call the police.”
“Did that work?”
“That—and a Xanax.”
“So how is Chris taking it? Are they talking divorce or anything?”
“She’s pretty upset. She doesn’t know what to think. Brad’s being a model husband—he made waffles for them all for breakfast and sent a big bouquet of flowers to her here at the school this morning—she says it’s kind of making her crazy. She’d like it better if he wasn’t quite so apologetic.”
“I can see that,” said Lucy. “I guess time will tell.”
“Maybe they should talk to somebody, like a marriage counselor.” In the background, Lucy heard a child crying.
“And get a restraining order,” said Lucy, but Sue was already gone.
“What was that about?” asked Phyllis, raising one of the penciled lines that were her eyebrows.
Lucy considered. She didn’t want to spread gossip, but Phyllis had heard most of the conversation and it seemed rude not to tell her the rest. And besides, nothing stayed secret very long in Tinker’s Cove. “Tamzin from the chocolate shop has a thing for Brad Cashman and she went to his house last night and made a big scene in front of his wife and kids.”
Phyllis clucked her tongue. “That woman’s trouble. Do you know she gives Wilf a truffle every day when he delivers the mail?”
“Just as long as it’s only a truffle,” said Lucy, with a wry smile.
Phyllis scowled at a press release. “She better not mess with me, that’s all I have to say.”
“Me, too,” said Lucy, closing out Google and opening the file for events listings. “Give me some of those press releases,” she said, with a sigh. “I might as well get started.”
Lucy tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but she found her mind insisted on wandering. For one thing, she’d written up these same announcements about children’s story hours at the Broadbrooks Free Library and ham and bean suppers at Our Lady of the Harbor Church and free Friday night movies at the community center so many times that she could type them from memory. Of course, there was always the remote possibility that the movie time would change from 7 P.M. to 7:30 P.M. or that the price for the ham and bean dinners would rise from five dollars to six, which was why she really needed to pay attention.
But the harder she tried to concentrate, the more unruly her thoughts became, following their own path. And that path led straight to Tamzin Graves. What a nerve that woman had, flaunting herself at every man she met. She was practically a public menace; somebody ought to petition the selectmen to write a preservation of marriage act banning her from town. And it wasn’t just husbands she was after—she went after your children, too, she realized, thinking of Zoe. They needed a family preservation act.
Lucy was chuckling at this idea when she noticed that the Newcomer’s Club was canceling a planned talk by Dora Fraser until further notice. No wonder, thought Lucy, Dora probably didn’t feel up to speaking before a crowd so soon after her ex-husband’s death. Max’s death was especially sad, thought Lucy, since he and Dora had seemed to be reconciling. At least that’s what Bill had told her and she didn’t doubt it. She’d known other couples who had gotten back together after divorce. Maybe it was like slipping on a pair of worn sandals you’d put away for the winter; when you strapped them on, you found they’d been molded to your feet and fit perfectly.
In the past, Dora never hesitated to criticize Max, but now that he was gone she seemed to have found good points that outweighed his faults. Or maybe she’d simply come to accept him, warts and all, realizing that she still loved him in spite of everything. Most of their trouble seemed to involve money, that was the factor that broke up most marriages, at least according to the surveys in women’s magazines. But now that the recession had arrived, everybody was having money trouble. All of a sudden people were reevaluating their priorities and discovering that relationships and family mattered more than their adjusted gross income. Maybe, she thought, that’s what happened with Max and Dora. Or maybe once you loved someone, you always did—a sort of vestigial emotion.
But what about Tamzin? Lucy was sure she’d heard that Tamzin and Max were an item, even though Tamzin insisted they were only friends. Of course that’s what she would say if Max had left her to return to his wife. A femme fatale like Tamzin would hardly broadcast the fact that she’d been rejected in favor of a heavier, plainer woman. She had an image to maintain.
Here Lucy had to admit she was letting her emotions get the better of her. She didn’t like Tamzin, in fact, she was beginning to hate her. The woman was a predator, she stole people’s husbands. She was self-centered, she thought the world revolved around her. She was blithely unaware of other people’s concerns. She even thought she was above the law, if the incident with Zoe’s working papers was anything to go by.
That’s when Lucy decided she had to put the brakes on. Okay, so Tamzin hadn’t bothered about the child labor regulations, she was hardly the first employer to ignore them. Like dog licenses and leash laws, the requirements for work permits were frequently ignored. And failing to apply for a work permit for an underage employee was a far cry from murdering someone, even someone who had jilted you.
Still, thought Lucy, the fact remained that Tamzin did have a black belt and could have overpowered Max, especially if he was drunk.
Was Tamzin a murderer? Lucy didn’t know. The one thing she did know for sure was that she didn’t want her daughter anywhere near the woman, who was clearly unstable. Zoe was at an impressionable age and Tamzin was a terrible role model.
Lucy had high hopes for her daughters: Elizabeth had graduated from college and was successfully embarked on a career with the Cavendish Hotel chain; Sara had scored well on her SATs and was waiting to hear from the colleges she’d applied to; and Zoe was in the top of her class. All three were serious, responsible high achievers and Lucy wanted them to stay that way. She didn’t want Zoe to become a sexpot like Tamzin.
Lucy came to a decision: Zoe had to quit working at Chanticleer Chocolate. Since she was at school, there was no way Lucy could discuss the matter with her and convince her to quit. The best she could do was to send a text saying something had come up and she should call in sick this afternoon.
Moments later she got a reply: R U CRZ T WL KL ME!
Lucy stared at the glowing letters, wondering if Zoe was on to something. Of course not, all she meant was that Tamzin was an abusive boss. She decided it was time to appeal to a higher authority and picked up the phone, dialing Trey’s office at the converted sardine factory in Rockland.
“Bit of a problem,” she began. “The job’s not working out for Zoe. Tamzin kept her late yesterday and, well, frankly, she was really mean to her.”
“Tamzin? Mean?” Trey couldn’t believe it. “She’s such a sweetie.”
“Zoe was really upset when I picked her up.”
“I’m sure she overreacted. She’s very young, this is her first job, right?”
“I’m her mom and I don’t like the way Tamzin treated her. That’s the bottom line.”
Trey immediately backtracked. “That’s your prerogative, of course. But I pride myself on the company’s employee relations. We value all our workers, they’re our most important resource.”
Lucy felt as if she were listening to a public relations spiel. Like the layoff notice Pam had received from Winchester College notifying her she’d been chosen for a special program and would be able to collect unemployment insurance. Lucky Pam!
“How about this?” Trey was continuing. “Give me a chance to talk to Tamzin. In the meantime, we’ll put Zoe on leave. No pay, of course... .”
“Of course,” said Lucy.
“But we’ll keep the job open for her in case she changes her mind.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” said Lucy.
The next step, she realized with a sinking feeling, was to let Zoe know. She sent another text and braced for fireworks, a cell phone screenfull of stars and other symbols. Instead she got a phone call.
“I’m in the girls’ room, I’m not supposed to phone at school.”
“I know.”
“Mom, I just want you to know I’m really glad. Thanks.” Lucy thought she’d misunderstood. “You’re glad you’re not working today?”
“I don’t want to ever go back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Good. I think I’ll stick to babysitting.”
“Good choice,” she said. “Take the bus home. I’ll see you later.”
Relieved, Lucy let out a big sigh just as Ted walked in the door. “Glad to see you’re working hard,” he said.
Lucy glanced at Phyllis, who ran her fingers across her lips in a zipping motion. “That’s us,” Lucy said. “Busy little bees.”
Chapter Eleven
Ted tossed his jacket, hat, and gloves in the direction of the coat tree and made a beeline for the bathroom, causing Lucy and Phyllis to exchange amused glances. Unable to resist tidying up, Lucy picked up Ted’s things, stuffed the hat and gloves in the jacket pocket, and hung it up.
“You know, Lucy, I couldn’t help overhearing,” said Phyllis. “I think you did the right thing, getting Zoe away from Tamzin.”
Lucy turned and leaned her elbow on the battered Formica reception counter. Phyllis wasn’t getting any younger, she thought, noticing the way her neck had developed crepey folds. And anxiety only served to emphasize the lines around her mouth.
“She’s trouble,” said Lucy, with a sympathetic nod. “One of those two-faced women who’s nice to men... .”
“Wilf can’t stop talking about her, he loves those truffles.”
“As long as it’s only a truffle, you don’t have to worry.”
“I do, though. She’s prettier and sexier than I am,” said Phyllis. “He doesn’t see through her like a woman would, he doesn’t understand why I don’t like her.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Lucy. “Wilf waited until he was practically fifty to get married and that’s because he wanted to find the right woman, and that woman is you.”
“I can’t help worrying.” Phyllis was chewing on the end of a ballpoint pen. “She’s got him doing special favors, bringing her coffee from the shop next door. And not just regular coffee, skim milk lattes or some such thing. That Tamzin’s got Wilf wrapped around her little finger.”
Ted had emerged from the tiny toilet tucked behind the morgue looking much relieved, until he noticed Lucy standing by Phyllis’s desk. Then he furrowed his brow and scowled. “Haven’t you got anything better to do than gossip?”
“Actually, Ted, I was hanging up your coat,” said Lucy, scowling right back at him.
“Uh, oh, sorry.” Ted was momentarily shamefaced until he thought of a fresh avenue of attack. “I wish you wouldn’t bad-mouth our advertisers. Chanticleer took out a six-month contract, so no more grumbling about them, okay?”
“We weren’t grumbling about Chanticleer, we were talking about Tamzin,” said Lucy.
“And you should be ashamed of yourselves,” said Ted, self-righteously. “You should welcome her. The poor little thing is new in town and wants to make friends.”
Lucy and Phyllis both laughed. “Only men friends,” said Phyllis.
“That’s right, Ted. You’re not qualified to talk on this particular subject. Tamzin’s got you under her spell, like all the other men in town.”
“Right,” agreed Phyllis. “We women have a special sense that warns us about husband stealers like Tamzin. It’s like when chickens know a storm is coming, or the wildebeests stampede because a lion’s on the prowl.”
“Heaven help us if the women in this town stampede,” muttered Ted. “Considering their average weight is two hundred pounds, there’d be nothing left. The place would be flattened.”
“Not funny, Ted,” said Lucy. “Besides, the fact that Tamzin’s a man-eater isn’t all that I object to. She hired Zoe without getting a work permit and then she treated her badly and made her work extra time. It’s Zoe’s first job—and she’s a rotten boss.”
Ted shook his head. “You know what kids are like... .”
“So don’t hire a kid,” snapped Lucy. “She hired Zoe because she thought she could exploit her.”
“That’s a reach, Lucy. Put yourself in Tamzin’s shoes... .”
“Ha! I’d break my neck in those stilettos!”
“See! That’s what I mean. What’s really bothering you is pure female jealousy of someone who’s more attractive... .”
“Watch it, Ted,” warned Phyllis.
Lucy decided she’d better not say what she was thinking and instead marched over to the coat tree and pointedly lifted Ted’s jacket off the hook and dropped it on the floor, in the exact spot it had been before she’d picked it up for him. Then she stomped over to her desk, plopped herself into her chair, and clicked on the solitaire game.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” said Ted, stooping to retrieve his clothing.
Lucy was staring at the screen, clicking her mouse and moving cards.
“I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Hmph,” said Lucy, starting a fresh game.
Ted seated himself in the spare chair next to Lucy’s desk. “The thing is, Lucy, I need you to do something for me. I need you to take some photos at Chanticleer Chocolate for the ads.”
Lucy was moving cards, pretty sure she was going to win this game. “Why can’t you do it?” she asked.
“Uh, this is embarrassing.”
“I knew it!” crowed Lucy. “Pa
m won’t let you!”
Ted was staring at the scuffed floor. “That’s right.”
The little cards were dancing around on the computer screen, celebrating Lucy’s win. She smiled at Ted. “Can’t do it today. I left my camera home.”
“You should always bring it,” said Ted, unable to resist putting Lucy in the wrong. Lucy cocked an eyebrow in his direction and he backtracked. “Tomorrow will be fine.”
“Good,” said Lucy, reaching for the phone. Darn it, she’d called the place so often in the past few days that she’d memorized the number, which was taking up way too much precious brain space. She winced, hearing Tamzin answer with “Chanticleer Chocolate” in a phony French accent.
“Hi, Tamzin, Lucy Stone here at the Pennysaver,” she began, in a tone that was all business. She certainly didn’t want to get into a discussion about Zoe’s need for a leave of absence after only one day on the job; she’d leave that to Trey. “Ted wants me to take some photos for the ad campaign.”
“Great!” From her enthusiastic tone, Lucy guessed Tamzin was also eager to avoid the subject of Zoe. “When do you want to come?”
Lucy considered her schedule. She sure didn’t want to go out of her way for the woman. “Maybe tomorrow morning, on my way to the office. Eight-thirty?”
“We don’t open until nine.” Tamzin made it clear she was doing Lucy a favor. “I’m happy to come in early for you, though.”
“Well, thanks, Tamzin,” said Lucy, happily. She was on a winning streak today. “See you then.”
Friday was the sort of day that would send any sensible person diving back under the covers. It was well after sunrise when Lucy drove down Main Street, but the streetlights were still lit which meant the sun was not providing enough light to trip the sensors that turned them off. In other words, it was dark as night at eight-thirty in the morning.
The gloom wasn’t the worst of it, though. Sleet, frozen rain, whatever you wanted to call it, was coming down hard, plopping on the windshield of Lucy’s car faster than the wipers could get rid of it. The road was filling with the slushy stuff, too, and every now and then the rear wheels would start to fishtail. The car’s automatic all-wheel drive caught it every time, but it was still unnerving and Lucy’s stomach lurched when she felt the car start to slip.
