Read It and Weep (A Library Lover's Mystery)

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Oh, my god,” Lindsey gasped. She uncrossed her arms and Robbie stepped over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close and rested his cheek against her hair.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty horrible,” he said. “She’s a sick woman. I got in touch with Violet, and we rigged the whole thing. I suspect Joanie knew I was Dylan’s father. I believe the adoption papers she told Emma about with an American listed as the father are a forgery. I hoped that if I showed up in town, I’d draw Joanie’s attention away from Dylan. I was right.”

  “How did you know to fake your death by poisoning?” Lindsey asked.

  “Dylan suspected his mother was poisoning him, and he started sending me samples of his food and drink to be tested,” Robbie explained. “At first there was nothing, but then, we found trace amounts of anti-freeze.”

  “Oh, my god, she could have killed him.”

  “Apparently, she had it down to a science, just enough to make him sick and keep him dependent upon her. I took up drinking coconut water, because I knew it would make it easy for her to go for me as the coconut would disguise the sweet taste,” he said. “On the night I performed my Oscarworthy death scene, I noticed that the cap on my bottle had been tampered with and one taste, which I spit out, and I knew it was showtime.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes. She would never forget that horrible night.

  “So Dylan knew all along?” she asked.

  “Yes, Dylan, me, Violet, Charlene and Emma,” he said. “That was it. Oh, and the EMTs who carted me off were actually actors. They didn’t know the whole story but they knew enough to give the performance of their lives.”

  “Wait. Charlene knew?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yes, I was hiding out with her on her isl—” Robbie cut off his words and gave her a sheepish grin.

  If there was a flashpoint for mortification, Lindsey was pretty sure she would have combusted right on the spot. If he had been on the island, then he had heard her talking to Charlene about her feelings for him.

  “You—You—!” Lindsey was so mad she couldn’t even think of anything bad enough to say. There was no help for it, she was going to have to turn to the bard for assistance, “‘You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!’”

  “Oh! The Taming of the Shrew,” Robbie said. “Well done.”

  “Argh!” Lindsey growled.

  “Now in all fairness,” Robbie said, “there was no way I could have known you’d come out to Charlene’s island. And I was so happy to see you that I couldn’t tear myself away from the window.”

  “The open window, which means you heard everything!” Lindsey shouted.

  “Yes,” he said. Then he gave her his most brilliant smile. “And just so you know, I feel the exact same way about you, which is why I called you the night you were almost killed. I just had to hear your voice and know you were okay.”

  “That was you?” Lindsey asked. “I thought you were a reporter.”

  “No, it was just me. I hated that I wasn’t there to protect you,” Robbie said.

  He went to pull her into his arms, but Lindsey was having none of it. She shrugged him off and stepped back. She leveled her best glare at him.

  “You would do well to remember that when I said those things to Charlene, I thought you were dead!”

  She turned on her heel and stomped toward the door.

  “Lindsey!” Robbie called after her.

  The door swung open and Sully had time enough to step back before Lindsey smacked right into him.

  He glanced between the two of them, looked irritated, and then looked more closely at Lindsey. “Problem here?” he asked.

  Lindsey glared back at him. “Don’t you start.”

  “What?” He raised his hands. “Nancy sent me to find you. Are you all right?”

  “I’m—” She paused, turned back to Robbie and snapped, “I’m fine!”

  She pushed past Sully and stomped down the hall to the door that led to the stage. Men! Stupid, stupid men! She was so over them! All of them!

  30

  Lindsey watched the rest of the play, huddled in the wings with Nancy and Mary. Dylan was amazing. He owned the stage just as surely as his father had.

  The applause of the crowd was thunderous, and when Dylan came in from his last monologue, his face shone with triumph. He had nailed it.

  The cast went out for their bows; Robbie joined them for the last one, and the audience, which had already seemed to be whipped into a frenzy, went even nuttier. Lindsey couldn’t help but be pleased at the success of the show.

  “I am exhausted,” Nancy said. “I am going home and putting my feet up with a nice cup of tea and a book.”

  “No, you can’t,” Mary said. “We’re all going over to the Anchor to toast the success of the show.”

  “Raise a glass for me,” Nancy said. “I’m going home.”

  “Tell you what,” Lindsey said. “I’ll stay and get the costumes sorted for tomorrow’s show if you’ll let Heathcliff snuggle you while you enjoy your tea.”

  “Oh, a puppy snuggle,” Nancy said with a sigh. “How could I refuse?”

  “You, too,” Lindsey said to Mary. “Go get your café ready for the party. I’ll finish up here.”

  “Are you sure?” Mary asked her.

  Lindsey felt both of the women watching her. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. It won’t take very long, and I’ll meet you over there, as I’m sure Beth will want to celebrate. She was brilliant tonight. Now shoo.”

  Nancy and Mary exchanged a glance. Nancy looked like she wanted to say something, but Lindsey shook her head.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. Then she laughed when she remembered barking that same word at Sully and Robbie.

  Her laughter must have convinced them. With quick hugs, they both departed along with most of the rest of the cast and crew.

  Lindsey had the actors dump their costumes on the bench beside her. She inspected them for dirt, makeup or any tears before she hung them back up on the rolling racks. Dylan was one of the last to stop by.

  “Are you off to the party at the Anchor?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Robbie and I are off to the police station. The state investigator has arrived and we’re going to give our statements.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lindsey said.

  “It’s not as bad as you think,” he said. “My mother has been very difficult to live with for quite a while now. Maybe now she can get the help that she needs.”

  “No, I meant I’m sorry that I thought you were the murderer,” Lindsey said.

  “Um, what?” Dylan asked, his eyes going wide.

  “Oh, no one told you?” Lindsey hung his tunic on a hanger. “I figured out that you were Robbie’s son and I thought maybe you were angry that he’d put you up for adoption.”

  “You figured it out?” Dylan sounded impressed. “You are clever. No wonder my dad has such a thing for you.”

  Lindsey felt her face get hot. “Yes, well,” she cleared her throat. “I am sorry I thought that.”

  “No, it makes sense,” he said. “I might have hated him if he hadn’t been looking for me and if he hadn’t stepped up and helped me when I needed him most.”

  “I’m really glad you’re okay,” Lindsey said. She gave him a quick hug. “If you need anything, just ask.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Norris,” he said. Now his face was red.

  “Oy, hands off my girl.” Robbie’s voice broke the awkward moment and Dylan turned with his hands in the air in a gesture of innocence.

  Lindsey frowned. “I’m not your girl.”

  “Not yet,” Robbie returned. “You underestimate my tenacity.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Go on, both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Is that an offer of a date?” Rob
bie asked hopefully. Dylan glanced between them and grinned.

  “I will see you at the show,” Lindsey clarified.

  “And then a date?” Robbie persisted.

  Lindsey turned her back on him to keep from letting him see her laugh. “Good night.”

  “‘Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow,’” Robbie said.

  “Good night, Romeo,” Lindsey said. She didn’t turn around but stayed busy shaking out one of the faerie’s sparkling tunics.

  She heard Dylan’s and Robbie’s footsteps move across the stage. When she turned back to the final costume on her pile, there was a single yellow rose with red-tipped petals lying on the pile. How had he managed that?

  She let out a sigh of exasperation and then lifted it up by its long stem and inhaled. It smelled more citrusy than sweet. She ran her finger over the petals. She knew the yellow rose signified something specific. She thought it might be friendship. She could live with that.

  “Lindsey, are you almost finished?” Sully appeared behind her.

  Lindsey jumped and let out a yelp. She held the rose in one hand and put the other over her chest.

  “Gah! You scared me!” she said. “Yes, just one more costume to go.”

  “Sorry,” he said. He glanced at the rose in her hand. “From an admirer?”

  Lindsey shrugged. She really did not want to have this conversation.

  “It seems like both of the Vine men have a crush on our fair librarian,” Sully said.

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Lindsey said.

  Sully stepped close and looked at the flower. “You know what that rose means, don’t you?”

  “Friendship?”

  “Just yellow, yes, but this one has red on the tips,” he said. His gaze met hers when he said, “That means falling in love.”

  His voice was low, almost gruff, and Lindsey felt as drawn to him as she had the very first day she’d seen him. But then, she remembered that he’d dumped her and according to his sister, there were issues in his past that he hadn’t shared. She took a self-conscious step back. She just wasn’t willing to get squashed again.

  She put the rose aside and picked up the last costume to be hung. She inspected it more thoroughly than most in an effort to appear casual.

  “How does a boat captain know so much about roses?” she asked. She was pleased that her voice came out light and teasing and not as knotted up as she was feeling inside.

  “Simple. He looked it up before he chose it for you,” he said.

  Lindsey whirled around to face him, but he had turned away and was walking out in the same direction Robbie and Dylan had taken.

  “Lindsey, come on!” Beth cried as she hurried in from the side door. “Everyone is gone. We have to get going or there won’t be a seat left at the Anchor.”

  Lindsey glanced from the rose to the stage where Sully had disappeared to the door where Beth was dancing from foot to foot. She had a feeling her life was about to get very complicated.

  31

  “Who chose Pride and Prejudice for this week’s crafternoon?” Lindsey asked. Although she had read the novel a million times, it had never struck her quite as poignantly as it had this time.

  “I did,” Mary said. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you like it?”

  “No, it was fine,” Lindsey said. “I suppose it was a good transition from Shakespeare.”

  “It certainly was,” Violet La Rue agreed. “Although you must have noticed how they both used the classic love triangle to move their plots forward.”

  “Yes, I noticed,” Lindsey said. Her tone was dry and she watched both Mary and Violet duck their heads back over the cards they were making so as to hide their laughter. The shaking of their shoulders gave them away, but Lindsey opted not to call them on it.

  “What’s the matter, dear?” Nancy asked. “Is art reflecting life a little bit too closely for you?”

  Lindsey could tell by the sparkle in Nancy’s blue eyes that she was teasing. Still, she didn’t have to enjoy it so much.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lindsey lied.

  “Oh, come on,” Beth said. “Everyone knows your life has become an isosceles.”

  She entered the room, wearing different bright-colored sneakers on her hands and feet, cat ears and a long tail, and she had whiskers drawn on her cheeks.

  “I Love My White Shoes for story time?” Lindsey asked.

  “You just can’t beat Pete the Cat,” Beth said.

  She shook the sneakers off of her hands and took off her ears and tail. She had a canvas tote with her card-making supplies, and she sat down next to Mary at the end of the table.

  “So, what did I miss?” she asked. “Have we gotten to the part where we all agree that Colin Firth was the best Darcy ever?”

  “We just started, and I thought we were discussing the book, not the film,” Lindsey said.

  She reached over the card she was working on and took a finger sandwich off of the tray Nancy had brought. She had run with the tea idea, so it was finger sandwiches, hot tea and raspberry petit fours.

  “Who do you think would make a better Darcy,” Charlene asked, “Sully or Robbie?”

  Lindsey, in the middle of an inhale, began to hack and choke. Violet pounded her on the back while the others watched anxiously.

  “Neither,” Lindsey said. “If one is Darcy then the other would be Wickham, and I don’t think that either of them could be— Ugh, did you know that Mark Twain is said to have felt an ‘animal repugnance’ toward Austen’s writing?”

  They all looked at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “That wasn’t even an attempt at a smooth transition,” Mary said with a sad shake of her head. “It was pathetic.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever have a book club meeting where my personal life is not a part of the discussion?” Lindsey asked.

  The others all exchanged a look and as one they turned back and said, “No.”

  Lindsey sighed.

  “Oh, look,” Beth said. She was pointing at the window.

  They all glanced out. A floral delivery truck had just arrived, and the driver was carrying a gorgeous bouquet of flowers into the building.

  “I wonder who they’re for,” Mary said.

  “My money is on Lindsey,” Charlene said.

  “Yes, but is it from Sully or Robbie?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m betting on Sully,” Violet said. “Robbie’s flowers are always huge; not necessarily pretty, but definitely huge.”

  “Other people work here, you know,” Lindsey said. “Those could be for anyone.”

  “Uh-huh,” Beth said. “Come on, let’s go see.”

  En masse, they hurried from the crafternoon room, down the hall to the main part of the library.

  Ms. Cole was working the checkout desk and she glanced over her glasses at the deliveryman. She was wearing shades of green today, from her vibrant green blouse to her dark-green slacks. As far as her usual color schemes went, this one was actually not too bad.

  The crafternoon group peeked around the door frame. Lindsey hung in back. She wasn’t sure she was up for the embarrassment of flowers being sent to her at work. She loved her friends, but they would overanalyze and pick apart any note that came with the flowers and probably the meaning of the flowers themselves.

  “May I help you?” Ms. Cole asked the deliveryman.

  “I hope so,” he said. He put the vase on the counter and checked his clipboard. He pushed back his baseball cap and scratched his head. “It says here that these flowers are for a person called Titania?”

  Ms. Cole straightened up and blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

  “It reads, ‘For my Titania. Ever yours, Oberon.’ See?”

  He turned the clipboard so that she could see it, a
nd Lindsey saw a tiny smile curve the corners of her mouth up.

  “I’ll sign for those,” Ms. Cole said. “I know who they belong to.”

  “Well, thank goodness one of us does,” the man said. He took the clipboard back when she finished and turned and strode out of the building with a wave.

  The crafternooners all tiptoed back from the doorway and then hurried back to their room. Lindsey sank into her chair while the others dished about this stunning turn of events. Milton and Ms. Cole; who could have seen that coming?

  Lindsey stared down at the card paper in front of her. She felt a smile tip her lips, not only because the group was not talking about her love life for a change but because seeing Ms. Cole get flowers from an admirer gave her hope.

  “‘Do not be in a hurry; depend upon it, the right Man will come at last . . .’” Nancy said.

  Lindsey raised her head and noted that Nancy was reading from a slender volume that did not look like Pride and Prejudice.

  “What was that?” Beth asked.

  “A letter from Jane Austen to her niece Fanny Knight,” Nancy said. “It’s sound advice, if you ask me.”

  As the two single members of the crafternoon group, Lindsey and Beth exchanged a glance.

  “Works for me,” Beth said.

  “Me, too,” Lindsey agreed. “After all, if you can’t trust Jane Austen in matters of the heart, who can you trust?”

  The Briar Creek Library Guide to Crafternoons

  A crafternoon is simply a book club that does a craft while enjoying some good food and discussing the latest book of their choosing. To give you a starting point for your own crafternoon, here is a reader’s guide to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, a sample card-making project and a recipe for petit fours, which go nicely with Jane Austen and a hot cup of tea.

  Readers Guide for Pride and Prejudice