Gilt by Association

by Karen Rose Smith

  After greetings all around, Nikki nodded to the tablet computer in front of her. “We’re brainstorming what to serve at the open house. I know your theme is hearts and flowers, but how over-the-top Valentine’s Day do you want to make it?”

  “There’s no over-the-top for Valentine’s Day,” Louise maintained, possibly a little too firmly to be believable. “After all, Chet and I fell in love at first sight at The Pretzel Party’s Valentine Day shindig all those years ago.”

  Louise almost sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as well as them, and Caprice wondered why. She knew Louise’s story well because Louise and her mom had become fast friends when they’d met at Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church soon after Louise first arrived in Kismet. Back then, she’d been a secretary at The Pretzel Party, Chet Downing’s snack company. She’d caught his eye, and they’d gotten married over thirty years ago. Theirs had been one of those Cinderella stories that had become a legend in Kismet.

  But something about Louise’s attitude tonight made Caprice wonder if Louise and Chet had argued about something. Obviously Louise loved lace and gold leaf, flowers and hearts. Her house reflected that. However, now she and Chet wanted to downsize to travel more. This home-staging and open house was supposedly going to sell the Downing estate faster. Hearts and flowers had been the obvious theme, especially with Valentine’s Day right around the corner.

  “Do you really think Chet’s going to be happy selling The Pretzel Party?” Caprice asked Louise now, guessing the man of the house was in his den down the hall away from their planning session.

  “He’s always wanted to travel more,” Louise answered. “With no restrictions on our time, we can choose places we both want to see.” She hesitated, then added, a bit thin-lipped, “By the way, he’s staying overnight in Philadelphia tonight for a late meeting. At least he won’t be on the road in this weather.”

  So Chet wasn’t down the hall. Maybe he and Louise had disagreed about him going to Philly this weekend?

  As Rachel set a porcelain cup and saucer before Caprice, Louise scolded not for the first time, saying, “You really should switch to herbal tea, Caprice, or at least decaffeinated coffee. I had a latté at the Koffee Klatch just a few weeks ago. After I drank half of it, my heart skipped beats. The barista had used caffeinated coffee instead of decaffeinated. I could have gotten her fired but she was young and in a hurry.”

  Because her mom and Louise were friends, Caprice knew Louise had suffered with atrial fibrillation and tachycardia since she was young. The arrhythmia didn’t act up often, but caffeine could activate the problem.

  “I drink tea with Nana. I’ll keep in mind your advice and try to cut down on caffeine,” she assured Louise, knowing if she didn’t, the older woman would try more thoroughly to convince her. Louise’s opinions were usually unshakeable.

  Moving their meeting forward, Caprice asked Nikki, “So what did you have in mind for food for the open house?”

  Lady had settled at Caprice’s feet and her tail wagged against the floor in a thump-thump-thump rhythm. Some people found that thumping bothersome, but Caprice found it soothing.

  Nikki glanced at Caprice, then read from her list on her e-tablet. “We talked about hors d’oeuvres. They’re easy—heart-shaped bruschetta, kiwi slices with tiny cream cheese hearts in the centers. I also have access to soup bowls shaped like hearts that would be great for tomato bisque. I can use red rose petals to decorate the plates, and carnations are edible, too. They can taste spicy, peppery, even clovelike. Chrysanthemums have a more bitter taste so I could use some of their petals in the salads.”

  Nikki paused and thought about that. “Some people have allergies to flowers in food, though, so it might be better just to decorate the buffet with them rather than use them in the dishes. We wouldn’t want anyone to have an allergic attack.”

  “Goodness, no,” Louise said, her hand covering her heart. “No flowers in the food. Nevertheless, red rose petals on a white tablecloth would look fabulous.”

  “Not everything has to be heart-shaped,” Caprice reminded them. “I just made a batch of white chocolate and cranberry cookies. They’d be a great Valentine treat with chamomile tea, hot chocolate, or coffee.”

  “Not to mention strawberry cheesecake, and cherries with meringue,” Nikki suggested with a lift of one brow. “The choices are endless with this kind of theme.”

  “I spoke with Jamie Bergman at Garden Glory,” Louise informed them. “I placed an order for peace lilies, grafted hibiscus trees and, of course, palms. Jamie had the terrific idea of planting flowers in the base of the palms. She’s going to look into exactly what varieties are available and get back to me.”

  Louise was one of those clients who liked control over the home-staging. Since she knew plants and flowers well, Caprice had let her handle that, though she or her assistant would actually place them.

  Caprice tapped Nikki’s electronic tablet. “What about our main dishes? When guests come to one of my stagings, they expect substantial food, too.”

  Nikki nodded. “I was thinking of prosciutto-wrapped stuffed chicken. Sliced correctly, the slices could look like heart shapes. Fettuccini would go well with it. Shrimp scampi is another possibility. I also thought about using those heart-shaped bowls for individual casseroles of shepherd’s pie with lamb and pork. This time of year, with this weather, that kind of food can warm your heart.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Louise agreed. “But back to incidentals . . . Let’s not forget chocolate-covered peanut butter creams. They’re my favorite candy.” Her eyes seemed to grow a little misty as she added, “Chet and I shared a few of those the first night we met.”

  Louise and Chet had been married for thirty years. Caprice’s mom and dad had been married thirty-seven years. So the idea of a lifelong union wasn’t foreign. Yet Caprice could hardly imagine being married to someone for that long. Still she wanted that kind of committed, all-in-for-life marriage. If it was happy. Was Louise still happy? Was Chet?

  Back to the subject at hand, Caprice said, “We’ll make sure we have your favorite peanut butter creams.” In fact, her mom had mentioned she might send Louise a box for Valentine’s Day.

  Rachel approached the table, her expression worried. “I don’t mean to interrupt, Mrs. Downing, but the snow is falling rather heavily again.”

  The blinds in the nook were closed. Louise looked toward them and nodded. “Thank you for telling us.”

  “I think we’re ready,” Caprice announced. “The house is staged exactly the way we want it except for the plants, and Garden Glory will deliver them the day before the open house. The menu sounds perfect. By next weekend, we’ll be all set.”

  A few minutes later after Rachel procured their coats and they hugged and said their good-byes, Caprice walked Lady to her van.

  She happened to glance at the frosting of snow on the driveway and caught the glare of headlights as a truck sped away from the driveway’s entrance. A visitor who decided not to come in? A wrong turn on a snowy night?

  Caprice gave herself a mental shake. She was just paranoid because she’d been followed once before . . . and almost killed.

  Nothing was going to happen tonight.

  Lady dashed into her crate. Caprice lavished her with praise and another tiny piece of doggie cookie. After she climbed in, buckled up, and started the van, she followed Nikki’s car out of the driveway.

  Her sister’s car had just turned off onto a side street when the snow swirled in almost-blizzard proportions with a howl of wind. Recently, snow squalls seemed to become more prevalent in the Pennsylvania winter weather patterns. She was glad Lady was safely enclosed in her crate.

  Caprice was carefully slowing for a stop sign when her cell phone played the Beatles’ “Good Day Sunshine” from her cup holder. She thought about not taking the call, but then her curiosity, as usual, got the best of her.

  Checking the caller ID, she saw that the caller was Grant Weatherford, h
er brother’s law partner. She listened to a few more notes of the music and took a deep breath. Lately, Grant’s voice made her feel both excited and nervous. They’d been getting along better since he’d adopted Patches, Lady’s brother. They discussed training techniques and used similar strategies, comparing notes. But there was still so much tension between them.

  She swiped her finger across the face of her phone and picked it up. “Hey, Grant, what’s up?”

  “I think we have a problem,” he warned her.

  She started off again across the intersection, wishing she still had taillights in front of her to follow. “And what might that be?” she asked.

  “I think your brother is in love with Roz Winslow. What are we going to do about it?”

  The question so startled Caprice and broke her concentration that she hit a patch of ice and slid sideways into a snowbank by the side of the road.

  Chapter Two

  Grant must have heard Lady barking at Caprice’s sudden jerking stop. He also must have heard Caprice’s low groan of disapproval as the passenger side wheel seemed to stick in the snowbank.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m driving home from the Downings.” She’d told him about this open house last week when they’d spoken at a puppy training and socialization session at Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic.

  “Are you all right?” Grant wanted to know. “It’s snowing pretty heavily out there.”

  “We’re fine,” she muttered with almost gritted teeth, hoping she could back out of the snowbank, hoping even more that she didn’t need any help.

  While she spun her wheels, she thought about Vince and what Grant had said. Her brother was in love with Roz? Her brother was a serial dater, and he seemed to be a confirmed bachelor. Her friend Roz had been widowed less than a year. Just what was Grant basing his theory on?

  “Why do you think Vince is in love with Roz?” The van’s engine vroomed as she gained a small amount of traction.

  “Because he wants to handle all her paperwork.”

  Caprice scoffed and rocked the van back and forth as her dad had taught her. “That’s not proof.”

  She couldn’t see much with a blizzard whiting out her front and back windshields.

  Lady barked again.

  Caprice gave up the rocking motion for the moment so she could have this conversation with Grant. She carried a bucket of cat litter in the back of the van and she could use that to gain traction under her wheels.

  “He told me this afternoon he’s going to ask Roz to the Valentine’s Day dance,” Grant explained. “Vince had a twinkle in his eye, and he asked me about corsages. This is your brother, Caprice. He doesn’t think about corsages.”

  Grant was right about that. He and Vince had gone through law school together and been roommates so he knew Vince almost better than anyone.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about one dance. And what would be so bad if they did hook up?” Roz needed to start socializing again with someone who could appreciate her intelligence as well as her beauty. And Vince?

  Silence met her posed question as the snow squall swirled around the van and everything else in Kismet.

  “What would be so bad?” Grant repeated with some annoyance. “You try to protect your friends, don’t you? You tried to protect Roz from a murder charge.”

  “Vince and a murder charge aren’t exactly the same thing.”

  “No, Vince could be worse. He could date her once, twice, maybe even three times and then decide he’s no longer interested. That’s your brother, Caprice.”

  Yes, that was her brother. “Did you talk to him?”

  “He didn’t want to hear what I had to say. He claimed he was too busy to talk. Do you think Roz will listen to you?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Don’t date my brother, he might drop you? Don’t date my brother though he’s debonair and a good dancer and could give you a good time?”

  “Caprice . . .” There was that warning note in Grant’s voice that she’d heard many times before. Her windshield wipers swept across the windshield, but they were impeded by too much powder too fast.

  After a few moments, Grant asked, “Are you almost home?”

  She looked around, knowing she was only a few streets away from her neighborhood. He didn’t have to know every detail . . . like the incidental detail that she was stuck.

  She agreed, “Almost.”

  “You wouldn’t be going to the dance, would you?”

  The snow squall and her surroundings seemed to fade away. Was he asking her to go with him?

  “I’m involved in organizing the food drive and decorating the hall earlier in the day, so I’ll definitely be at the dance. What about you?” she asked as casually as she could.

  “It’s for a good cause. I was going to stop in.”

  Caprice couldn’t help but feel a little trip in her heart that Grant was going to be there, too. But as silence stretched between them, reality sunk in and stripped the smile from her face. He obviously wasn’t going to ask her to accompany him. No matter what had happened between them last summer, he still didn’t seem ready for much more than a surface relationship.

  And she had to escape this snowbank’s hold and drive home. “Grant, I’ve got to go and keep my mind on what I’m doing.”

  “I know. This weather’s tough. You are wearing boots, aren’t you?”

  “Sort of. They’re suede and have fringes. I’m good.”

  “Your retro styles aren’t going to keep your feet from freezing in this weather.”

  “It wasn’t snowing when I left home.” She couldn’t keep herself from asking, “You’re still going to Marcus’s puppy socialization class Monday night, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll have to see who does better, Patches or Lady.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  “Life is always a competition.”

  Different. They were very different. Still . . .

  “I’ll let you go,” he said. “I’ll see you Monday unless Marcus cancels because of the weather. Don’t forget to wear decent boots if it’s snowing.”

  As always, when he took that authoritarian tone with her, she hung up on him.

  With a sigh, she climbed out of her van into the snow, went to the back for the bucket of cat litter, dumped it in behind her front right wheel . . . and hoped it would provide enough traction to get her out of this mess.

  As Caprice watched Marcus Reed on Monday evening, she was glad she could call him a friend as well as her pets’ veterinarian. He was tall and husky. African-American, he kept his hair trimmed short and usually wore a broad smile. He owned Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic and was an excellent dog trainer as well as a veterinarian. The puppies in this class were all five to six months old. Besides learning to socialize with a few other dogs, and teaching them how to make friends instead of enemies, Marcus was focusing on basic commands, too—down, sit, stand, come. And then there were leash manners and the heel command.

  Caprice glanced at Grant who was working beside her since their pups already knew each other.

  Marcus stopped between them. “Are you still treating all your walks as training sessions, keeping them short?”

  “Patches behaves better when he’s had a walk and play session before we start the day,” Grant conceded.

  Marcus eyed Caprice. “You are making Lady spend private time, aren’t you? She’s not with you all the time?”

  “She naps in her puppy apartment sometimes while I work in my office. But she does want to be with me.” Caprice and Grant both had purchased “puppy apartments”—large crates with both a sleep area and a bathroom area. Caprice had taught Lady the “go potty” command by utilizing the crate with its special pads. When she had to leave Lady at the house alone, she attached puppy gates at the doorways to her kitchen. That way Lady had her bed and bathroom area as well as the kitchen to play in.

  “And you want to b
e with her,” Marcus said with a raised brow. “That’s just the way you are. But raising a puppy is different from taking in a stray adult dog. You don’t want problems with separation anxiety later on.”

  “I know, and her chewing’s getting better. As long as I keep her supplied with different toys, she stays away from my slippers and the table legs.”

  Grant shook his head. “Patches ruined one of my best pair of loafers. I learned to rotate toys, too, so he doesn’t get bored with any of them.”

  Marcus laughed a big hearty laugh. “I don’t need to worry about you two. After all, anyone who sees their pups born is invested.” He gave a wink.

  Last summer, Caprice had taken in a cocker spaniel she’d found in her mom’s backyard. She’d dubbed her Shasta since she was the color of the Shasta daisies in her garden and soon after discovered the cocker was pregnant. One evening late in the cocker’s pregnancy, she and Grant had run into each other at a party and he’d followed her home. Shasta had been in labor and they’d delivered her pups together. That had seemed to form a special bond between them—especially when Grant had adopted the last pup in the litter and named him Patches. Where Lady was a golden buff color, Grant’s dog was cream-colored with brown ears, brown circles around his eyes and nose, as well as brown patches on his back and flank.

  Marcus suddenly called across the room, “Don’t keep walking when your pup pulls. You don’t want to reinforce bad behavior. Walk the other way and she’ll learn she won’t get any farther. Give her a treat and praise for staying in that space beside you.”

  Grant and Caprice, their dogs on a loose leash hold beside them, followed a course delineated by blue tape on the floor. As Marcus watched, Patches and Lady both walked to the left of them without pulling on their leashes.

  He nodded approvingly. “You two have confidence and patience. That’s what some of these dog owners are lacking. Your dogs can tell.”

  When Marcus moved across the room to give more specific instructions to a woman who was having problems encouraging her dog to heel, Caprice took a sneak peek at Grant. His thick black hair was crisply parted and brushed to one side. His gray eyes were as intense as ever. She admired his casual look tonight. The chambray shirt seemed to make his shoulders look broader. His jeans fit like jeans should fit a man. She was much more used to seeing him in a shirt and tie and suit coat. Before she tore her gaze away from him—of course she was simply studying the way he handled Patches—her phone vibrated in the pocket of her tapestry blazer. A second later, she heard the muffled tones of “Good Day Sunshine.” She’d set her phone on vibrate, too, in case she couldn’t hear it with puppies yapping, and their owners talking.