“Are you still volunteering at Orchard House?” Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women and many other books while living there.
“I am.” We heard another burst of laughter. “You’d think everyone thought Margaret could still do them a favor. Or maybe they’re relieved because they don’t owe her one.” Before I could ask her what she meant by that, a car horn tooted behind me. “There’s my husband. Have fun.”
After hanging my coat up on a rack, I plunged into the crowd, edged around a group of people, and then made my way to the bar. It was five deep, but I managed to wiggle my way through and land right in front of a bartender.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic, extra lime,” I said.
“Add her to my tab.” Seth. I turned, and he was right beside me, one elbow leaning on the bar, a cosmo set in front of him. His comment to the bartender was an exact repeat of the first words he’d said to me the night we met. I couldn’t believe he remembered them and that he had that same cocky grin.
“It’s an open bar,” the bartender said.
“It’s not necessary. I can pay for my own drinks,” I told the bartender, saying the first words I’d ever spoken to Seth. I smiled in spite of myself and the scare I’d just had.
The bartender shook his head. “It’s an open bar. No money required.” He made my gin and tonic and handed it to me. I took a healthy swig.
“What is someone like you doing alone in a place like this?” Seth asked. He managed to look sincere as he spoke, but a little gleam in his eye gave him away.
I turned to face him. His white dress shirt, open at the collar, strained across his muscular chest and forearms. It made me think of the other night, when I’d seen him without his shirt. Warmth spread through me. It wasn’t because of the gin, but because Seth had remembered our conversation from the night we met. It didn’t seem like something most men would do. Then again, Seth was no ordinary guy.
“Really? That’s the best you can do?” I asked him. “That’s your opening line?” I was amazed I remembered our conversation so clearly. But it had been a monumental evening for me, the first time I’d been out alone after CJ and I separated. Seth had been there celebrating his appointment to fill in for the ailing district attorney.
“You got something better?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, repeating our first conversation, too.
“So let’s hear it.”
“What?” I took another sip of my drink to hide my smile.
“Your line. You said you had something better. I want to hear it.” He grinned again, which highlighted his sturdy jaw.
“What are you doing for Patriots’ Day?” We smiled at each other. My heart felt like it was melting. CJ had been so distant lately, and Seth so lovely. Why have I been having such a hard time deciding who I want to have a relationship with? The choice seemed more obvious every minute.
Seth leaned in close. His spicy aftershave wafted off his warm skin. I breathed it in, thinking once again that every man in America should be mandated to wear this stuff. “You think that’s a better line?” he asked.
I smiled. “And you shouldn’t make assumptions that I’m alone. My friends might be in the back.” I waved a hand toward a corner of the bar.
Seth glanced over his shoulder. A bunch of pimpled adolescents were playing video games. The first time it had been bikers playing pool. “You’re going with those guys are your friends?”
“They could be.” At this point on the first night we’d met, his buddies had come and pulled him away from me, but tonight would be different.
“Seth,” a pouty voice said. I turned to see a tall, slender woman dressed in a fitted black suit standing next to us. “Did you get my cosmo?”
That explained Seth’s drink. I should have realized it wasn’t for him. My melting heart shored up a bit. Of course he wasn’t alone. Why would he be? And here I had thought my choice seemed so clear.
Seth handed her the drink, and she linked her arm through his. “This is Nichole More. Margaret’s granddaughter.”
I said hello and realized I’d seen her in pictures with Seth over the past few months. I tried to remember what the society page had said about her. I think she was a lawyer, too, but unlike Seth, she was a defense attorney. They must have some interesting discussions. Her suit looked expensive, her hair glistened even in the dim light, and she stood about two inches taller than Seth. She looked like a model, even though I knew she wasn’t one.
“You’ll have to excuse us,” Nichole said to me. “Seth, my mom is insisting she needs to ask you something.” She tugged on his arm. Good heavens. Would he buy such a blatant made-up line?
“Okay,” he said.
Yup, I guess he would.
As he moved past, he whispered, “I’ll be back. Wait for me.”
I wasn’t the waiting kind of girl anymore, so as soon as they left, I took off in the other direction, trying to ignore the jealous thoughts darting around my head. I hoped to find the woman who’d told me I had my nerve attending the viewing, so I could ask someone who she was. But she was nowhere to be found. I chatted with a few people as I moved around the increasingly tipsy crowd. But there were a lot of people I didn’t recognize, and they all looked wealthy. I headed for the door. Just before I opened it, a hand grabbed mine. Seth.
Chapter 13
“I want you to meet my parents,” he said.
“Your parents are here?” I looked over my shoulder, like they might be right behind me. “Why?”
“My family and the Mores go way back. So will you meet them?”
I felt unsure. I was no model or lawyer, the kind of woman Seth usually seemed to be with, but I needed to snap out of that kind of thinking. I ran my own business, and I looked pretty good tonight. Someone out there thought my boots were sexy. Ugh. Why had I thought of that? I straightened my shoulders, told myself it would be okay.
“Okay,” I finally said.
Seth took my hand and guided me through the crowd. I gripped his hand like he was a towrope and I was a rookie skier going back up a hill. He gave my hand a squeeze, which made me feel a little better. Seth stopped by two couples and waited until one of the women turned. She looked like a taller, more stylish version of Queen Elizabeth. I resisted the urge to curtsy.
“Seth, darling, Nichole was just looking for you.” She glanced at me, our two linked hands, and then gave me a thorough once-over. I was thankful that I’d worn my vintage 1970s Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress, a yard sale find, and a simple necklace I’d made from some old pearl earrings. Hopefully, my black boots weren’t too scuffed.
“Sarah, my parents, Aldrich and Paige,” Seth said.
Seth’s mom gave me a cold, limp hand to shake. She had on the largest single-carat diamond I’d ever seen in real life. No wonder her handshake was limp: holding that thing up had to be exhausting. His dad enveloped me in his arms. He smelled of scotch and cigars.
“We’re so glad to meet you, after hearing so much about you,” he said.
They’d heard about me? I wondered if that was true or if Aldrich said that to all of Seth’s friends. I glanced at Seth, but his face gave away nothing.
“You must come to our cottage in Nantucket when the weather warms up,” Aldrich added.
I almost choked. I confess that I’d looked up their “cottage” on Google Earth. It was a sprawling complex of buildings on a piece of land that jutted out into the ocean.
“Mustn’t she, dear?” he said to his wife.
“Of course. That would be lovely.” But she said it through clamped teeth. I wasn’t sure if that was just her way or if she was biting back a response. “But as I was saying, Seth,” Paige went on, “Nichole is looking for you. We’ve invited her to the family dinner on Sunday.” She glanced at me sideways, with a glimmer of triumph in her look. It was apparent that she was on team Nichole.
“You should come, too, Sarah,” Seth’s father’s voice boomed out, much to the chagrin of his wife.
/> “That’s lovely, but I already have plans,” I said. Reading a good book was a plan, wasn’t it?
Seth turned to me. “Any chance you could change your plans? We’ll be at our place in Beacon Hill.”
“Nonsense, Seth,” his mother said. “Sarah doesn’t look like the kind of girl who’d break plans when she’s gotten a better offer.”
“Mom, that was rude,” Seth said. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”
“Oh, me too, dear. That came out all wrong.” Seth’s mom smiled, but it was the least sincere smile I’d ever seen.
“It was lovely meeting you both.” I managed to get out. A better offer, my . . . Okay, it was a better offer, but how did she know? I turned and steamed toward the door, grabbed my coat off the rack, and slipped into the dark, cold air before I said something I shouldn’t.
“Sarah, wait,” Seth called out.
I stopped by my Suburban, surprised to be here, without even wondering if the photo taker was lurking. Seth caught up with me, pressed me up against the side of the SUV, and kissed me well and thoroughly. I kissed him back. My anger and resistance were all shot to hell by his lips. He rested his head against mine, his hand holding the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry. She’s not always like that. It’s just she and Nichole’s mother have been plotting to marry us off since we were toddlers.”
“What does that have to do with her not being nice to me?”
“Nichole moved back here over Christmas, and my mom’s hopes were renewed. Even though I’ve told her multiple times that Nichole isn’t for me.”
He looped his arms around my coat and pulled me to him again. After another thorough kissing, he said, “I remember so well the night I met you.”
I smiled at him. “Me too.” That he remembered that night so clearly stunned me.
“Let’s re-create the rest of that night. Come home with me.”
It had been a long time, a really long time. And it had been a long, terrible week, and I liked him so much.
“Please?” he asked.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll follow you home.”
“You won’t change your mind?”
“No. You can follow me, if you don’t trust me.”
Seth laughed but then turned serious. “I trust you, Sarah. But I want you to trust me.”
* * *
The sun was shining when I pulled into my parking space beside my apartment Thursday morning. I trotted up the steps and was heading up to my apartment when my phone chimed. I shook my head. Seth had sent me three photos of himself with sad faces as I drove home. I waved at a big guy sitting on a small folding chair outside of Mike’s apartment as I pulled up the picture. It was of me walking into the apartment building and was rimmed with a black heart. Same outfit as last night was written across it.
Chapter 14
I must have gasped, because the big guy stood. “Everything okay, miss? Mike said to keep an eye on you.”
I looked at him but didn’t really see him. “I’m fine. Thanks.” I didn’t know if having a mobster keeping an eye on me was a good thing or not. I unlocked my apartment door and ran to the window that looked out over the town common. No one was out there lurking with a camera. No one stood there with a phone pointing this way. I saw Mike running around the town common with a brother on either side of him. He looked up and waved. Maybe he’d seen something.
I ran back out not even bothering to lock my door, yet alone close it. I figured the big guy would make sure no one went in. I bounded down the steps, burst out the door, and jogged after Mike as fast as I could in my boots. “Mike, guys, wait a minute,” I yelled.
They turned and jogged back over to me.
“Did you see anyone out here taking a picture of me?”
“Naw,” Mike said. “But when we’re back behind the church, we can’t see nothin’.”
“You got a problem we can help you with?” the taller brother asked.
“No. Thanks.” I was pretty sure I didn’t need their kind of help.
* * *
I took my time showering, blow-drying my hair, and putting on my makeup. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew I had a stalker. It all added up: the picture of me at Margaret’s house, the creepy comments about my outfits, and the photo today. Thinking about it made me want to take another shower. I knew I should tell the police about the photo from this morning and probably about the other ones, too.
Explaining this morning’s photo meant admitting I’d spent the night with Seth. And I didn’t want CJ to know. I puzzled over that for a few minutes. On the one hand, it was because I wouldn’t want to know if CJ had slept with someone, but on the other, I knew I felt slightly guilty about doing it. I was an adult, but I didn’t want to hurt Seth or myself or CJ. I’d jumped the gun with Seth. Again. Why was it so easy to say yes to him and so hard to say no?
I shook my head. With Mike next door to me and his brothers sitting out in the hall, I didn’t have to worry about being attacked in my home. I’d be extra cautious when I was out and about. The person who had taken the photo of me at Margaret’s house either was the killer—gulp, I hoped I was wrong about that—or knew who the killer was, which wasn’t a much better option but was a little more comforting than the first. So if I figured that out, I would know who the stalker was and could end this.
I wondered if the stalker had any connection to my virtual garage sale site. I grabbed my computer and opened the site. For once everything seemed to be in order, although I had a few messages to go through.
The first one complained about people advertising their businesses on the site. The person reminded me that this was a buy-sell site and not a job site. Frankly, if someone wanted to mention his or her business, as long as it was legal and was advertised on a Tuesday, I didn’t care. I didn’t allow people to sell animals or guns or breast milk, but if someone sold beauty products or jewelry, it was fine by me. I wrote a quick response, reiterating the site’s policy.
The next few messages were all variations on the same theme—the person thought he or she should have gotten something someone else did. I knew how they felt, given that I’d lost out on the vintage tablecloth in what I’d thought was a breach of virtual garage sale etiquette. Why had Margaret sold it to Frieda instead of to me? It wasn’t like she’d needed the extra money. It was probably one of those things that I’d never have an answer to. I wrote back to everyone, explaining that it was ultimately up to the seller to decide whom to sell to. I wasn’t going to be the “sales” police. I didn’t have time for that, nor would it be fun.
A woman who was downsizing wrote a lovely note, letting me know how helpful the site had been. She was on a fixed income, and the money from her sales would be a huge help in her life. The next message was a virtual Valentine, a pink heart with the words You’re the best, Sarah written inside. For a moment my skin prickled, but then I realized this was from someone who was happy with the site. Finally, a little appreciation. Every once in a while someone would send me a nice note, but two in one day was almost a miracle. I wrote thank-you notes before dealing with the rest of the messages.
I finished up with the garage sale site but still didn’t have a clue as to who could be stalking me. I decided to go over to DiNapoli’s for lunch. The more information I had about Margaret, the better chance of finding her killer, which in turn might lead me to my stalker. It was kind of like using one of those reverse phone book sites and going at the information backward. Maybe I could worm some information out of Rosalie and Angelo about that glance they’d exchanged last night.
I threw on a light winter jacket and left my apartment. I stopped on the front porch and scanned the common and the sidewalk. There were skaters at the rink, a group of people walked around the perimeter of the common, and a couple of men headed into the church. No one was paying any undue attention to me.
When I walked into DiNapoli’s, the place was packed, and I had to wait in line to order. I hoped I could snag a table. Lois
was taking orders, instead of Rosalie. Her black hair was in a low bun, and she wore a black T-shirt and slacks, as did most of the employees. Rosalie was back by the grill, talking to Angelo. From all the hand waving going on between them, it didn’t look like they were happy.
“What’s going on with them?” I asked Lois when it was my turn to order.
She tucked a strand of long black hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear and glanced back at them. “They’ve been at it all morning. The rest of us have just tried to stay out of their way. Not easy to do in this place.”
“Why’s it so crowded today?” I asked.
Lois’s pale face looked exasperated. “Angelo put an ad in the base paper offering ten percent off on Thursday lunches for military. Not only did the military show up in force, but half the surrounding area somehow found out and claims to have served.”
“What’s good today?”
“Angelo would tell you, ‘Everything.’ Try the eggplant Parm sandwich.”
“As good as that sounds, I’d better have a salad.” I patted my stomach. “An iced tea, too, please.”
“Sarah Winston, you and your virtual garage sale are ruining my business.”
I turned at the voice, which grated more than the metal grater the DiNapolis used for shredding cheese. I knew before I turned that it belonged to Hennessy Hamilton, owner of the consignment store on the west side of Ellington.
Hennessy stood near the door, in a luxurious camel-hair coat that made her broad shoulders look broader. A hint of an expensive-looking red dress peeked out from under the coat. Her long legs were clad in black tights. She stepped forward in spike-heeled black shoes and jabbed a red-lacquered nail in my direction. “People would rather shop online than get the quality merchandise available at my store.” She looked at the people sitting at the crowded tables as if she wanted them to applaud. The crowd in the restaurant was a mix of locals and military. Her beautiful silver bob swung as she held her hands out beseechingly.
All Murders Final! Page 8
