Andy sprinkled flour on the gummy mass before him. “And Seth’s reaction was?”
Katie shrugged. “Just that I should concentrate on keeping Artisans Alley open—if that’s what I wanted.”
Andy filled the first tray with rounds of dough, setting it on the rack and reaching for another. “What brought this whole Seth thing to a head anyway?”
“This,” Katie said, pulling out the by-now crumpled letter from her jacket pocket. She held it for Andy to read.
“I’d say Landers blew it. He had to know this was going to make you mad. Unless it’s a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“Sure, maybe he’s got an overzealous secretary looking for a raise. It’s the end of the month. She probably sent out bills to all his clients. See the signature? She signed his name, then initialed it.”
Katie squinted at the letter. She’d been too angry to notice that before.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why a gay man has been coming on to me.”
“Are you sure he was coming on to you, or was it just wishful thinking?”
Boy, that stung! But could it be true? Katie had been out of circulation for a long time, and these last few months had been the loneliest of her life.
Maybe Seth was just trying to be kind.
“What are you thinking?” Andy asked, scrutinizing her face.
“That maybe I am in over my head.”
“Then take your time, look at all the possibilities before you make any major decisions. Whatever’s going on, stall. The more time you have to think, the better. Don’t let anyone bamboozle you, Katie. Not Seth, not Gerald. Not Rose, not Tracy. Nobody.” He smiled and winked. “Not even me.”
Back at Artisans Alley, Katie stared at her office phone, brooding for a good ten minutes before dialing Seth’s office number. The line rang and rang. Finally, voice mail kicked in.
“The law office of Seth D. Landers, Esquire, is now closed. Our hours are—”
Katie hung up, and then consulted her address book before punching in Seth’s home phone number. It, too, rang and rang. She was about to hang up when Seth answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Seth, it’s Katie.”
“My favorite client,” he said, a gentle softness in his voice.
“Thank you for the compliment,” she said, trying to keep her tone level. “I received your bill for services rendered in this morning’s mail.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’d heard an attorney’s billable hours are all important, but I didn’t know you were on the clock when we ate at Del’s the other night.”
“I wasn’t,” he said.
“According to the bill I received this morning, you were. I also didn’t realize just how much we’d talked during—and outside of—office hours.”
“I document all my client phone conversations,” he explained, his tone growing distant. “Linda, my secretary, goes through my personal calendar when she prepares the monthly billing. I probably jotted down that we talked about Ezra’s estate during our dinner. She shouldn’t have billed you for that.”
“There’s the flowers for the funeral as well. I didn’t authorize you to send them.”
“You’re right. That was also a mistake. I’ll speak to Linda and have her send out an amended bill on Monday.”
“Thank you,” Katie said, her voice still chilly.
The silence between them lengthened.
“Does this mean you won’t have dinner with me tonight?” Seth asked.
“What’s the point? I mean, I’m really not your type, am I?”
More silence. Then, “I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my offer of friendship, Katie. And I guess I misjudged you. Somehow I thought you’d be more open-minded.”
“I’m very open-minded. I just don’t like to be misled.”
The silence that followed that statement was painful to endure.
Finally, Seth spoke. “I’ll make sure Linda sends out that amended bill on Monday. I’m sorry if I’ve said or done anything that hurt your feelings or offended you, Katie. And I’ll be glad to recommend another attorney for you. Good-bye.”
“Seth, wait—”
But the connection was severed.
Katie hung up the phone, feeling like the worst kind of hypocrite. She hadn’t thought of herself as bigoted. She’d just been . . . lonely, and now disappointed. She had liked Seth—a lot. And the fact that he could never be interested in her as a romantic partner ... Well, what was wrong with friendship anyway?
She glanced at Chad’s smiling picture on the desk in front of her. “Look at all the trouble I’m in. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself—” She stopped, once again ashamed of herself.
That’s right, blame Chad for everything. Like he’d planned on skidding into a tree and dying on that snowy winter night the previous March.
Katie glanced at her watch. It was less than an hour before Artisans Alley closed.
A long Saturday evening stretched before her—and now she’d have to fend for her supper, too. Cooking was the last thing she felt like doing. And, she reminded herself, it was Halloween. Maybe she’d get an assorted sub at the grocery’s deli. Mason loved it when she tore off shards of ham to share with him. And she had to get Halloween candy anyway.
Saturday night—the loneliest night of the week. Maybe the trick-or-treaters would cheer her. Katie got a kick out of seeing the kids dressed as ghosts, goblins, and NASCAR heroes. And if there was any candy left over, well, it wouldn’t be her first sugar binge. She’d buy plenty of Snickers bars to be sure she could indulge.
Katie straightened up her already tidy desk, then looked around her grubby office. Tomorrow she’d scrub the room. Monday, when Artisans Alley was closed, she’d hit Home Depot early and buy a couple of cans of paint and begin the process of making the room truly her own. She’d lost the English Ivy Inn. She’d lost Seth’s friendship. Artisans Alley was just as good a place as any for a new start.
The “twenty-minute warning,” as Katie liked to call it, had already been issued, letting customers know that Artisans Alley would soon be closing. She wandered up to Cash Desk 1, where Rose was taking care of a customer. Katie recognized the woman as the shopper who never spent more than five dollars.
“And what treasure have we found today?’ Rose asked.
The woman frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”
Rose blushed. “No, of course not!”
“I’ve heard what some of you people say about me,” she said with an edge to her voice.
“That you’re one of our most valued customers?” Katie prompted.
The woman looked up sharply. “No, that I’m cheap!”
Katie did her best to appear shocked.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“Katie Bonner, Artisans Alley’s new manager, and I’m very upset to hear that you’ve been insulted by one of my vendors,” she said sincerely. “How can we make your shopping experience better?”
The woman’s frown deepened. “You could spiff the place up. And offer stuff that regular people can actually afford.”
Katie noticed the booth number on the tag of the hand-knitted dishcloth belonged to Edie Silver. The item’s cost: two dollars. “As you can see, we do have a few vendors with inexpensive items. And we’ll be bringing in more in the next couple of weeks. They’ll be in our newly expanded loft. I hope you’ll continue to visit and patronize Artisans Alley during the holiday season.”
The woman’s expression softened. “I like to come here and shop. Thanks for telling me about the new vendors. I’ll let my friends know.”
Rose finished ringing up the sale, and then bade the customer good-bye, adding a cheerful, “Have a nice evening.” She waited until the woman was out of earshot to speak again. “Gee, you saved us with that one.”
“Bad word of mouth can cost us an awful lot of customers,” Katie said. “I guess I’d better draft some rules of conduct for the
vendors. I don’t want any other customer to feel they aren’t welcome here.” She glanced down at the chipped coffee mug that was nearly overflowing with price tags. “Will you give me a small bag? I’ll take these in to Ida. Maybe she can catch up on a few before she goes home,” Katie said. She emptied the mugs from both cash desks and headed for the tag room.
As anticipated, Ida sat hunched over the little table, intent on straightening up the piles of paper before her. She’d divided them into stacks of ten, laying them out before her on the table, making it easier to find each individual sheet, which corresponded to each vendor’s booth number. She sorted through the tags, putting them in groups of tens, and then adding them to the appropriate sheets. She’d lined the tags up like soldiers on review. She really did take the job way too seriously. But then, maybe that was all she had in her life.
How sad to have no other purpose.
Katie knocked on the doorjamb so as not to startle the old woman. “Do you have a minute to talk, Ida?”
Ida raised her head, but didn’t turn to look at Katie.
Katie entered the small room, drew up one of the folding chairs, and sat at the opposite side of the card table from Ida. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve had several requests from other artists who want to take over your booth. I’ve had to make a very hard decision. I’m sorry, Ida, but if you can’t pay the back rent you owe by Monday, I’m going to have to ask you to vacate your booth.”
A fat tear rolled down the old woman’s cheek. “You can’t do that to me,” she said, her voice quavering.
“I’m afraid I can. The plain fact is, Artisans Alley can’t survive without more income. Everyone has to pay their way.”
“I don’t have the money, and I can’t leave. The only friends I have are here. What will I do? Where will I go during the day if I can’t be here?”
“I’d like to suggest a compromise. You don’t have a lot of stock in your booth. If you’re willing to take a shelf in one of the new display cases in back, I’ll only charge you ten percent on anything you sell. That way you won’t have to pay rent, and if you want to continue to be the tag room manager, you can. And you can come to Artisans Alley and work as much or as little as you like. Does that sound reasonable?”
Ida wiped another tear from her eye. “I—I could do that.”
Katie gave the older woman what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Good. Now, why don’t we plan to move your lace to one of the display cases on Monday morning? I’ll help you with it, if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Ida said.
Katie stood, realizing she still held the little paper bag full of tags. “I almost forgot to give this to you.” She handed it to Ida.
“I’ll make sure I finish these off before I leave tonight,” Ida said enthusiastically.
Katie looked at her watch. “We’ll be closing in a few minutes. Why don’t you save them until tomorrow?”
“Okay. Thanks, Katie,” Ida said, and even managed a weak smile.
Katie gave the old woman a wave and exited the cramped little room. It was with a tremendous feeling of relief that she sidled past the line of customers at the cash registers and headed back to her office. At least she’d done one thing right today, grateful she hadn’t made an enemy of Ida. Still, her misunderstanding with Seth continued to gnaw at her thoughts. She’d thought they were friends. Had he been trying to manipulate her all along? Had all his encouragement for her to keep Artisans Alley open been a sham? Lawyers were known to be cunning, and Seth was certainly no slouch.
Katie sank into her chair and leaned back, thinking about all her dealings with the attorney, all the things she’d learned in the last week, her mind roiling with suspicion.
She caught sight of Ronnie’s photo on her desk and picked it up. He’d been a handsome young lad. The picture had to have been taken some twenty years before. No one had told her how old Ronnie would have been had he lived. Thirty-five? Forty? Older? Katie wondered what he would’ve looked like as he’d matured. In fact . . .
Katie studied the picture for a long time, trying to envision a much older Ron Hilton. Finally she got up from her chair and took the photo over to the tabletop copier. She changed the setting to LIGHTEN to compensate for the richness of the color hues, and hit the start button. A copy slid out the side a few seconds later, landing in the tray. She took the picture back to her desk and sat down, grabbing a dull pencil and adding some shading around the eyes, drew in a few wrinkles here and there, and—
With a jolt she realized just who this handsome young man looked like.
“Katie?”
Katie’s head snapped up to see Seth Landers standing in her doorway, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his damp raincoat. She quickly turned the paper over and swallowed. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I didn’t want to leave things as they were on the phone.” Although his voice was gentle, a thread of worry curled through her.
“I’m glad of that,” Katie said. “Can we talk?”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said.
“Will you give me some straight answers?”
Seth gave a snort of laughter at her choice of words, but nodded and closed the office door. He looked at the top of the file cabinet, brushed away the dust with his hand, then leaned his elbow against it. “Shoot.”
“Why did you kiss me? Hold my hand?” Katie asked, her voice wavering. “Why—”
“I like you, Katie. The fact that we could never be lovers has nothing to do with the affection I feel for you.”
Katie felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Certain things just don’t add up. But then, a lot of things have suddenly become clear.”
Seth’s gaze narrowed. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know.”
“You said you were adopted. That you’d been going through your father’s legal files. Everything sort of fell into place when I looked at this.”
She gave him the doctored picture of Ezra’s son. “Are you Ronnie Hilton’s brother?” she asked.
Seth exhaled a long breath, fixing his gaze on Katie. “You’re probably the only person in the village with guts enough to ask. Everyone else just whispered about it—that is, until Ronnie died, then they seemed to lose interest.”
“Did you know?”
“I suspected. I knew I was adopted, but I never saw my birth certificate until my dad died. Then I knew for sure. How did you guess?”
“Rose Nash told me of her brief affair with a married man. She didn’t say who, but she did say it was with the owner of the local appliance store. I guess she didn’t realize I knew Ezra owned such a business some forty or fifty years ago. Rose said she put her child up for adoption. You’re the right age, and you were adopted.”
Seth’s mouth drooped. “When I confronted him, dear Ezra denied it. He never would admit to making a mistake. But you’re right, Rose Nash did list him on the birth certificate. And as you can tell, there’s a definite family resemblance.”
Katie felt her insides squirm. “Are you planning to have yourself declared his direct heir? Sue the estate, sell off the land Artisans Alley sits on ...”
Dear Lord, she realized with horror, could Seth have killed Ezra?
“Hold it—hold it,” Seth said, exasperated. “Where did you come up with all of this?”
“You knew the land Artisans Alley is on was worth a lot of money. As Ezra’s heir you could—”
Seth’s mouth dropped open, his eyes narrowing. He stared at Katie for long seconds, then his lips curled into a smile. “You really think I want his estate?”
“It’s a logical assumption.”
Seth started to laugh.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” Seth said, trying his best to stifle his amusement. “Katie, it’s really none of your damned business, but I’m not some maladjusted adoptee who went looking for his birth parents. I happened to have loved the people who ado
pted me very, very much. And they also happened to have left me a very rich man. I’ll say one thing, I probably inherited some of my business acumen from Ezra, but unlike him, I’m a lot more successful.”
Katie decided to blast ahead with both barrels. “What percentage of the marina do you own?”
Seth’s eyes widened in admiration. “Very astute.”
“I figured you did more than just real estate closings at that big firm in Rochester—before you took over your father’s practice. And you haven’t answered my question. What percentage of the marina do you own?”
“Almost half.”
“I suppose you’ve been quietly buying up land for the past couple of years,” she said. “And you wanted this place, too.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Seth said, sobering.
“Honey, I own three parcels of land that would make much better locations for a hotel site. I’ve been negotiating with the Motel Six chain for the past four months. We’ll probably close the deal before the end of next week. And then there’s the new water park. Big things are about to happen in the township, but Victoria Square will still be a big draw. I’m betting it’ll keep those hotel rooms filled to at least fifty percent capacity during the winter months when the marina is closed. Why would you think I’d want to kill a cash cow?”
Katie hadn’t considered that. But then, she’d only harbored her harebrained theory for a matter of minutes.
“I suppose I look pretty stupid, what with all my wrong conclusions, and then thinking you were coming on to me.”
Seth took the chair near her desk, leaned forward, and took her hands in his. “Sweet Katie, I think you’re a woman who’s had a hell of a lot to adjust to in the past week. Thanks to Ezra’s murder, you’ve been tossed into quite a traumatic situation. You quit your job. You’ve been vandalized. You found a dead body, and have even been overcharged by your overbearing lawyer. I think any mistakes you’ve made this week can be entirely forgiven. They would be, at least, by a friend.”
Katie’s bottom lip quivered. “I feel like such a fool.”
“Why? Because you’re human?”
A Crafty Killing Page 23
