“You were oblivious to Chad/Todd until he showed a glimmer of interest in Chrissy, after weeks of you rejecting him, of course, and then you full-on stalked the boy just to take him away from her,” Viv said. “Because you were jealous.”
“No, I wasn’t. Besides, that was completely different,” I said. “I did flirt with the musician boy, which I admit was not nice of me, mostly because I couldn’t stand Chrissy, but it was also to protect him. I wouldn’t let a guppy date her, never mind an actual boy. I don’t feel that way at all about Fee. I adore her.”
“And yet you showed no interest in Harrison until he showed interest elsewhere,” Viv said. “Then you got jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” I protested. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. I don’t care who Harrison or Fee date; I just don’t think they’re right together.”
“Which is none of your business,” Viv said.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll butt out. Can we go back inside now?”
Viv looked unconvinced but then shrugged as if resigned to whatever happened.
I opened the door, determined not to look for Fee or Harrison. Instead, I made a beeline over to Andre to give him my congratulations.
Thankfully, he had a moment between being interviewed and fawned over and opened his arms wide when he saw me.
“Scarlett, you look amazing,” he said as he hugged me. “I should grab my camera.”
“And this is why I love you,” I said, hugging him back. “You know just what to say to a girl when she’s feeling dowdy.”
“You? Dowdy?” he asked. “Never.”
I gave him a doubtful look.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked. “Come here. I have something to show you.”
He led me to a corner of the gallery I had yet to visit. A series of three huge prints were on the wall. They were done in black and white with just one object in the photo in color.
“Oh my God,” I murmured. “That’s me and Viv!”
The photos were the ones he had taken of us at the Wonderland tea when I’d been telling Viv about seeing Geoffrey and his secretary.
The first photo was a profile shot of me with my hand almost up to my mouth. It was easy to see I was about to tell a secret. The second shot was of Viv and me, huddled together with me whispering in her ear. And the third was of Viv looking surprised at what she’d just heard. In the first one, only my lips had color, rum raisin, in fact—my favorite lipstick. In the second, the feathers on Viv’s hat were the only burst of color. And in the third, it was Viv’s big blue eyes that were the spot of color.
“When did you put these up?” I asked. “They weren’t here when we helped set up the other night.”
“They weren’t ready yet,” he said. “In fact, I hung them this afternoon, and they were the first prints to sell.”
“Oh, Andre, they are magnificent,” I said. “You made us beautiful.”
“You already are, love,” he said.
I was feeling a bit too emotional to talk, so I put my hand on his cheek and whispered, “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I said you were ruddy bad luck. You’re not, you know.”
“You’re forgiven.” I stepped back and glanced around the room. “Andre, this is fantastic. You are the toast of the town.”
He put a hand on the back of his neck and tilted his head to the side as if studying the room through the lens of his camera.
“It is brilliant, isn’t it?” He looked equal parts relieved and awed.
“Andre, pet, you’ve got a buyer for your series of boats on the Thames,” Nick said as he joined us. “They want to talk to you about light in dark or shadow or some such artsy stuff.”
“Keep an eye on my girl,” Andre said.
“I do hope he is referring to me,” Nick said to me with a wink.
Andre grinned and kissed first Nick’s cheek and then mine before he moved in the direction of the art buyers.
“How is the fiery situation?” I asked Nick.
“Under control,” he said. “Honestly, caterers these days. A little oil fire and they all act like we’re in a bad disaster movie.”
“Scarlett Parker, is that you?”
The voice came from behind me. I didn’t recognize it. I gave Nick a wide-eyed look and he glanced over my shoulder. Given the paparazzi’s fascination with me a few months before, I was always leery when approached by persons unknown. Nick shrugged, which I took to mean he had no idea who it was but that it didn’t look like a media type.
I turned slowly, bracing myself for a camera or a mic to be shoved into my face. There was none of that. Instead, I found Marilyn Tofts standing behind me, sipping champagne and nibbling on a cheese puff.
“I thought it was you,” she said. “Nice hat.”
“Marilyn, how good to see you,” I said. I can recover and lie pretty quickly like that. Given that the last time I’d seen her was at a dead man’s tea, I was surprised she was even willing to be seen talking to me.
“Likewise,” she said. From the cool expression on her face, I could tell she was being as insincere as I was.
“Nick Carroll, I’d like to introduce Marilyn Tofts.” I grabbed Nick’s hand before he could disappear into the crowd.
He gave me a put out look and then he glanced at Marilyn as if recognizing the name. “Marilyn Tofts? The event planner?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” she said. She tossed her long honey hair back over her shoulder and gave him a bright smile. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Heard of you?” Nick asked. “You were the talk of the Berringers’ dinner party last week.”
“Was it the Wonderland tea they were talking about?” I inquired.
Marilyn gave me a sour look.
“No, this was before that unfortunate incident,” Nick said.
“It was unfortunate, wasn’t it?” Marilyn gave a delicate sniff. “All of my hard work and for what? The host up and dies in the middle of the tea. There was simply no saving it.”
“You tried?” I asked.
“But of course; that’s what I do,” Marilyn said and sipped her champagne. “The family was extremely difficult. I could not get any of them to come out of hiding and take control of the situation.”
“But the head of the family had just been discovered dead,” I protested. “Surely, the guests understood the extraordinary circumstances.”
Marilyn Tofts rolled her eyes. “It was a pathetic display. That family is a disaster, I tell you. If you ask me, it serves them right. Letting me believe the queen would be there when obviously they are not of that social caliber. Humpf.”
I glared at her. She was just as shallow as I had supposed.
“Everyone has challenges,” Nick said. He patted Marilyn’s hand sympathetically. “It makes you stronger.”
She gave him a grateful smile. I glanced between them. He looked positively giddy to meet her. I had to give it to her: she did make an impression.
In her usual vintage-starlet style, Marilyn was wearing a Maggy London satin sheath dress in jewel green. It had a wide portrait neckline and a cascade of fabric on one hip that gave her an amazing silhouette. She’d finished the look with a pair of black platform heels, which caused me a severe pang of shoe envy.
“And you’re so brilliantly talented that the tea will be no more than an insignificant memory as you blaze a trail through the upper crust’s social network,” Nick said.
“Oh, go on,” Marilyn said. There was a pause and she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Nick. “No, seriously, go on.”
Nick grinned and suddenly I felt like the third seat on a bicycle built for two.
“I heard that you arranged to have the lead singer of Oasis just pop in at the Dashavoys’ wedding and sing a bit to the bride, is that true?”
Nick gushed.
“It is,” Marilyn preened.
“That’s brilliant!” Nick cried.
“I know!” Marilyn cried in return. “This is how amazing I am . . .”
I backed away. Neither of them noticed and no one tried to stop me. I decided I liked Marilyn Tofts even less now than I did when I first met her, and that had been in the negatives already.
I worked my way through the crowd and decided to console myself with a tray of goat cheese–stuffed dates that I found unattended. I was working through my fourth when Fee joined me, looking smashing in our dress.
“Scarlett, what are you doing here playing the part of the wallflower?” she asked.
“Muh muh,” I mumbled through a mouthful of date.
Fee blew an errant blue curl out of her eye and studied me with a look of concern.
“Something’s wrong, yeah?” she asked.
I wanted to stomp my foot and howl, yes, that this was the worst party ever because she had my dress and Harrison was too old for her and Nick was suddenly besotted with a true mean girl. Thankfully, a smidgeon of maturity kicked in and instead, I gave her a small smile and said, “Just a tiny headache, no big deal.”
Fee didn’t look like she believed me. Smart girl. But she didn’t say anything.
“Well, my lovelies,” Viv said as she joined us. “Have we done enough promotion for the shop?”
“I thought we were here to support Andre,” Fee said.
“Of course we are,” Viv said. “But mostly, we’re walking advertisements for Mim’s Whims. You did work the shop into every conversation, didn’t you?”
Fee looked stricken, and I felt sorry for her.
“Go easy on her,” I said. “She’s a rookie.”
Viv gave me a look as if to say she was surprised I was standing up for Fee, which was ridiculous. I didn’t have a problem with Fee. If anyone, my issue was with Harrison for looking at a girl who was too young for him.
“Are you ladies calling it a night?”
Speak of the devil. Harrison appeared on the other side of Fee.
“We are,” Fee said. “And you?”
“I’ve eaten all of the tiny food I can cram in,” he said. “I’m ready to go.”
“Excellent,” Viv said. She waved at Andre over the heads of the crowd until he waved back. I waved, too, and nodded when he gestured that he’d call me later.
As we cleared the door, Viv slipped her hand through Fee’s arm and said, “So, I was thinking that since I am finished creating the hats for the Wonderland tea and I’ve caught up to all of the special orders, you might like an assist on the hats for the Butler-Coates wedding.”
“Do you mean it?” Fee gasped. Viv nodded and Fee clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, thank you. I know I said I wanted to do it myself, but that bridezilla is about to drive me right out of my mind.”
She glanced over her shoulder at us—okay, mostly at Harrison—and asked, “Did you hear? Viv is going to save me!”
He grinned at her and I smiled. I knew Fee had been struggling with the big event. The Butler-Coates wedding had a high-maintenance bride with seven bridesmaids in it, so it was a doozy.
“Maybe we can start all over, because goodness knows, I am getting nowhere,” Fee said. She looked so relieved, I couldn’t help but be happy for her.
Viv laughed and hugged Fee close to her side. They continued walking and I heard Viv say, “Tell me some of your latest ideas.”
Fee took a deep breath and out poured a flood of hat talk. I glanced at Harrison. He was watching them with a small smile on his lips as if he was charmed by the sight of them, which I found very irritating.
I picked up the pace of my walk so that I was right on Viv and Fee’s heels, not that they noticed, since they were discussing the different types of fabric they could use for the bride’s veil. Harrison kept pace with me, but when I would have slammed into Fee’s back because she stopped short for a woman walking her dog, he caught me by the elbow and kept me from crashing.
Viv and Fee kept walking, but the little black-and-white dog danced right in front of my feet, blocking my path.
“Hey there, little fella,” I said. I knelt down and patted his soft head. He wagged and panted. Harrison knelt down beside me and scratched the dog’s back. The dog pranced on his feet and licked Harrison’s wrist before trotting off with his owner, who smiled at us.
When I straightened up, I saw that Viv and Fee were half a block ahead of us. For a moment I wondered if Viv had planned this whole thing, but that seemed over-the-top even for Viv.
The streetlamps glowed bright white, while the shops that remained open beat back the night’s darkness from their windows with warm squares of yellow light.
“Listen, Scarlett,” Harrison said before I could continue walking. “About before—”
“No.” I held up my hand. “It’s none of my business.”
“But you need to know—” he began, but again I interrupted.
“No, I really don’t need the particulars of your whatever,” I said. “If college girls are what you’re into, it’s none of my affair.”
“College girls are what I’m into?” he repeated, sounding confounded.
Two older gentlemen walking around us stopped, and one of them nudged Harrison with his elbow. “Nothing wrong with that, Batch; enjoy your youth while you can.”
Harrison gave him a dark look and he and his friend hurried off. I surmised from the wobble in their walks that they’d been indulging in a pint or three of Fuller’s ale.
I’m partial to Fuller’s London Pride myself. It’s a nice pale ale that goes amazingly well with a pasty or a plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Of course, they don’t generally serve it as cold as I was used to in the States, but I’ve found that I liked it better that way.
“What does ‘Batch’ mean?” I asked.
“It’s short for ‘bachelor,’” he said.
“Huh.” I resumed walking, but again Harrison stopped me with a hand on my elbow.
“So why does it bother you?” he asked.
“What?” I blinked at him. When all else fails, I’ve discovered playing dumb is a fabulous diversionary tactic.
“Me and Fee.”
My eyes widened. He admitted it! My expression must have given my thoughts away, because he looked at me and shook his head.
“Not that there is a me and Fee,” he clarified, “but why does the idea bother you so much?”
The man was like a dog with a bone, and I was beginning to feel like the marrow. Honestly, how was I going to get out of this one?
Chapter 13
His green eyes narrowed as he waited.
“I already told you,” I said. “Fee’s too young for you.”
“Oh, codswallop!” Harrison said. “Eight years is not too young, but that’s not the point. The point is I don’t believe you. What’s really bothering you?”
I stared at him, refusing to answer. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels as if he had all the time in the world to wait for my answer. When he started to whistle, I glowered.
“You really think you’re all that, don’t you?” I asked. I decided to go for the offensive strike.
“Hey, now, what do you mean by that?” he asked.
I turned and began walking. When he would have grabbed my elbow again, I dodged.
“You refuse to believe that I am just looking out for a friend,” I said. “Because your male vanity insists that it must be something else.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he protested as he matched his stride to mine.
“Then why don’t you believe me?” I asked.
We were nearing Mim’s Whims when Harrison slowed his pace. There was no sign of Viv or Fee, so I assumed they must have gone inside. The shade
s were drawn over the windows, but the overhead security light illuminated the walkway in front of the shop.
“I’ll tell you why,” he said. He stopped in front of the door.
“This should be good,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my toe on the sidewalk.
“You have no problem throwing Viv at that adolescent Liam Grisby, and their age difference is about the same as Fee’s and mine,” he said. “So, Ginger, why the double standard?”
I felt my insides sink like a deflated cake after a loud bang. He had me. Why did I think it was okay for Viv and Liam to hook up but not Harry and Fee?
“That’s different,” I protested.
“Really?” he asked. “How?”
“Because you’re an older male and Viv is an older female and the relationship dynamics are completely different.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking my stance.
“I have another theory,” he said. “Care to hear it?”
“Not really, no,” I said.
“Excellent, here it is,” he said, completely ignoring me. “You’re jealous. That’s why you’re so interested in whether Fee and I have something going.”
“I am not,” I argued.
He leaned close and grinned at me. “Yes, you are.”
I wasn’t sure what annoyed me more, the fact that he looked so smug or that he was right, a fact I was not even willing to admit to myself just yet.
“I will have you know, Harry, that I couldn’t be less interested in you if you were three feet tall, bald, and had hair sprouting out your ears.”
He grinned at me. “Right.”
With one word, he mocked. I desperately wanted to kick him but even more I wanted to win the argument if for no other reason than to preserve my dignity.
“And even if I had taken complete leave of my senses and was jealous, which I’m not, it wouldn’t matter because I have taken a vow of celibacy for at least one year.”
Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) Page 10
