by Linda Reilly
Loretta Gregson, wearing a stylish knitted hat and a ski jacket, slid into the booth across from Sherry and Lara. “Hello, dear,” she greeted Sherry. “Nice to see you again, Lara.”
“You, too,” Lara said. “How’s Cookie doing?”
“Oh my—you remembered. She’s doing wonderfully, back to her old self. Thank you for asking.”
With that icebreaker, they all ordered coffee. Loretta pulled off her black leather gloves and gave Sherry a wary look. “So, what’s this all about?”
Sherry leaned forward and smiled. “It’s nothing bad, Mrs. Gregson. I just wanted to ask you something. I may as well get right to the point. A few people have noticed that you’ve had your hair cut exactly like my mom’s. The color’s the same, too, right down to the highlighting. And your makeup—” Sherry halted. Loretta’s face had paled to a ghostly white.
Their server came by with their coffees. Lara gratefully snatched up her mug and took a hefty sip, burning her lips. She squelched a grimace.
They’d agreed in the car that Sherry should begin the conversation slowly and tactfully. Her friend had already ditched that plan in favor of blatant candor.
“I-I guess I don’t understand.” Loretta’s voice was brittle. “Are you implying that I’ve been copying your mother?”
Sherry winced visibly. “Yeah, sort of. I guess so.”
Loretta pressed her red-tinted lips together and shook her head. “I thought you were going to ask for suggestions on what to get David for Christmas. I didn’t expect anything like this.”
Sherry looked as if she wanted to shrink into the back of the booth and fade into oblivion.
“Mrs. Gregson,” Lara said kindly, “there’s nothing wrong with imitating someone’s style. It’s actually a compliment to Daisy.” Unless you’re trying to pin a murder on her. “It’s only that it seemed to happen all at once, you know?”
Loretta’s face crumpled. Ignoring Lara, she looked at Sherry through watery eyes. “David...he adores you, Sherry. I’m sure you know that. But I haven’t been able to get close to you. I’ve tried, but you seem to hold back. Maybe I did copy your mother, subconsciously. But only so that you’d see me as more...approachable.”
Lara thought about the altercation with Miss Plouffe that Loretta had been involved in. She couldn’t help wondering—was Loretta trying to manipulate her way into Sherry’s good graces? She didn’t, for a moment, believe Loretta’s claim that her imitation of Daisy had been subconscious.
“Okay, I get that,” Sherry said, her shoulders drooping. “I’m kind of embarrassed now. I didn’t realize you felt that way about me. To be honest, it takes me a while to warm up to people. And you being David’s mom?” She laughed slightly. “It made me feel like I have to be perfect for you, you know? I hope that doesn’t sound too crazy.”
Sherry’s playing the part beautifully, Lara thought. If that’s what she’s doing.
Loretta’s features relaxed. She looked far more at ease than she had when she’d arrived, as if a huge weight had been lifted. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all, dear. You’re perfect for David, just the way you are.” She gave Sherry a sly little wink. “In fact,” she said, leaning forward, “I’m hoping you’re going to be part of our little family one day.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Sherry was speechless. Lara buried her nose in her coffee mug and took a long, slow sip.
“Wow,” Sherry finally said. “That’s such a nice thing to say. Thank you, Mrs. Gregson.”
“And dear,” Loretta cooed, “I do hope I haven’t upset your mother.” She reached over and squeezed Sherry’s fingers with her own. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
A chill rippled down Lara’s spine. Something about Loretta’s response sounded cold and calculated, without an ounce of sincerity. If only there was a way to bring up her confrontation with Gladys Plouffe.
“Listen, don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t think Mom even noticed,” Sherry said, easing her fingers free from Loretta’s grasp. “Lately she’s been too worried about the police and all the hoopla over Miss Plouffe’s death.”
Good job, Lara thought. Sherry had found a way to inject Miss Plouffe into their little chat.
Loretta’s eyelid twitched. “That’s certainly understandable. Believe it or not, I had a bit of a tiff with Miss Plouffe myself a while back. She was a very unpleasant woman, I’m sorry to say.”
Sherry went wide-eyed. “Really? What happened?” Lara felt her friend’s foot poke her under the table.
“It was embarrassing, really. She reported me to the police for something that wasn’t my fault. All over a silly handicapped parking space. I ended up going to court and having to pay a fine. Ridiculous.”
Sherry and Lara made the appropriate tsk tsk sounds.
Why was she suddenly so forthcoming? Lara wondered.
After an awkward pause, Sherry said, “I just hope the police close the Plouffe case soon. My honest opinion? It was an accident, pure and simple. Someone handled the cookies with something Miss Plouffe was allergic to and didn’t realize it.”
No, Sherry. Don’t tell her about the allergy!
Loretta’s head snapped toward Sherry. Her eyes looked smaller now as they searched Sherry’s face. “Is that what Gladys Plouffe died from? An allergic reaction?”
Sherry instantly realized her mistake. Her face flushed cherry-red. “Um, that’s one of the theories, yes. But the police have others, too,” she added, backtracking over her slip of the tongue.
Loretta stirred her coffee briskly. “I didn’t realize that. About the allergic reaction.”
If she was acting, it was an Oscar-worthy performance, Lara thought. But if she really hadn’t known about Miss Plouffe’s allergy, it could mean only one thing.
Loretta Gregson did not kill Gladys Plouffe.
* * * *
“So, what did you think?” Sherry said after they’d left the café.
“I don’t know, Sher,” Lara said. “I wanted to believe her, but something tells me she’s not totally sincere. The main thing is, she couldn’t have killed Miss Plouffe. Only someone who knew about her allergy could have tainted those cookies.”
They both got into the Saturn. Sherry snapped her seat belt in place. Lara started the car and pulled out into the stream of traffic.
“I wanted to kick myself,” Sherry said, “for stupidly letting it slip about the allergic reaction. The police have been trying to keep that quiet.” She grimaced. “Think I’ll get in trouble?”
Lara laughed. “With who? Chief Whitley?”
“Him, and the state police.”
“It’s too late now, so don’t worry about it,” Lara said. “The main thing is that your mom’s off the hook, right? She must be so relieved.” When Sherry didn’t respond, Lara repeated, “Right, Sher?”
“Oh...uh, yeah right.”
“You’re lost in thought,” Lara said. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it?”
Sherry heaved a massive sigh. “David asked me again, about getting engaged for Christmas. He wants me to go with him to pick out a ring.”
There was a part of Lara that wanted to scream “Yippee!” But another part told her Sherry needed a lot more time to make that life-altering decision.
“Sherry, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s wonderful that you and David found each other,” Lara said. “But you shouldn’t feel pressured into making a commitment if you’re not ready. If you need more time, tell him.”
“What if he says he can’t wait? What if he says it’s now or never?”
Lara braked slowly, then stopped for a traffic light. She turned and looked at her friend. “He won’t say that if he loves you,” she said softly. “Sher, this is the most important relationship you’ve ever had. And it all happened kind of quickly, you know? So don’t feel rushed, and
don’t feel pressured. If you need to slow things down, then do it.”
Lara wondered if she was talking to Sherry or to herself.
A sudden wave of melancholy washed over her. For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt overwhelmed with sadness.
“Thanks, Lara,” Sherry said tearfully. “You always know what to say. So, what do you think about me having Mrs. Gregson as a mother-in-law?”
Lara snapped her mind back to Sherry’s problem. She didn’t know what she thought about David’s mother. Something about the woman bothered her. She reminded Lara of the mother-in-law in one of the old TV sitcoms who invaded her son’s home several times a day on the pretext of “helping.”
“I think you can handle her,” Lara said. “The best advice I can give is to stay true to yourself.”
Chapter 21
By the time Lara arrived at Gideon’s office, darkness had fallen. The night sky was clustered with clouds, blotting out the stars.
The days are getting shorter, she thought gloomily, and my “to do” list is getting longer.
It wasn’t until after she dropped off Sherry at her home that she’d made the decision. She was going to do a “pop in” and surprise Gideon at his office. If he was too busy to talk to her, so be it. But something had been on her mind all day. She had to get it off her chest before her brain exploded.
Monday at dinner was the last time Gideon and she had seen each other, although they’d spoken a few times and texted dozens of times. The flatness in his words over the past few days gave Lara the sinking feeling something was wrong.
Gideon’s office was housed in one of the stately old homes within walking distance of the downtown block. His apartment was located one story up, making his commute to work a dream. One other tenant, a financial consultant, rented the office space opposite Gideon’s. The apartment above her office was occupied by an elderly woman, Mrs. Appleton, and her cat, Muffin. The same cat Gideon had offered to “borrow” if his company got too boring.
It was 4:45 when she rang the front buzzer. Lara knew Gideon didn’t have an assistant—he did all his work himself, including answering the phone and typing up documents. Clients had to ring to be let inside—a system that allowed him to keep unsolicited vendors at bay.
After a minute or so, Gideon opened the door. He looked surprised but thrilled to see her, as if he’d waited a long time for her. “Hey there, come on in.”
Her heart lodged in her throat, Lara stepped into the vestibule. The walls were paneled in a dark mahogany, giving the foyer a dreary feel. A small light hung from the ceiling—one of those art deco reproductions that attempted to imitate an earlier era. The combined scent of paper, furniture polish, and stale coffee hung closely in the air.
Gideon kissed her lightly on the lips, a strand of his straight black hair dipping slightly over his forehead. “I’m just finishing up with a couple signing a P and S for the new house they’re buying. Can you wait for ten minutes or so?”
“Of course I can,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work, Gid. Take your time, okay?”
He winked at her, touched her cheek lightly, then returned to the conference room adjacent to the foyer.
Tears pushed at the back of Lara’s eyes. Thinking about it in the car, she’d figured out what was bothering him. The problem was: how was she going to broach the subject?
She sat in one of the hard-backed chairs, then loosened her scarf. When she checked her phone for messages, she saw one from Kayla asking her if she’d done any more snooping about the obituaries.
No, because a ghost cat told me they weren’t the right ones, she thought bleakly. How could she tell that to Kayla? So much of her life, it seemed lately, was dictated by a Ragdoll cat no one else could see.
The conference room door opened. A thirtyish-looking couple, their faces alight with joy, strolled out hand in hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Halley,” the man said. “We’ll chat with you again once the closing is scheduled.”
Gideon wished them well, shook their hands, and saw them out the door. He turned to Lara. “I’m so glad to see you. You should have told me you were coming!”
“And you’d have baked a cake?” she joked, swallowing back tears.
Gideon’s smile collapsed. “Honey, what’s wrong? You look like you lost your best friend.” He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close.
It felt wonderful, being wrapped in his arms. The scent of his soap, mingled with the laundry detergent he always overused, almost made her forget the nagging fear she’d come here to talk about.
Almost.
“Come on in my office,” he said, taking her hand. “I have some coffee left over from about three o’clock, if you want to risk it. Even better, one of my clients brought me some peanut butter fudge.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Can I tempt you?”
Lara smiled. “You can always tempt me.”
Lara drifted over to one of the bookshelves to look at her favorite photo. Framed in vintage silver, it was a pic of Gideon at about twelve years old. One hand rested on his dad’s shoulder as he gazed at the document clutched in his dad’s hand. His dad, a lawyer, was seated at the desk he’d handed down to Gideon, his finger pointing at something he wanted his son to read. The desk was a jumble of papers, pens, and coffee cups, along with an old-fashioned green desk lamp. According to Gideon, his mom had taken the photo only a short time before his dad succumbed to kidney failure.
“Still staring at that picture, huh?” Gideon came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
Lara smiled. “I’ve always loved it. It’s the way I remember you right before my folks moved us to Massachusetts.”
“It’s my favorite pic, too,” Gideon said, a slight catch in his throat. “Dad was such a professional. He loved pointing out little details to me. That day, I think he was showing me a clause he’d stuck in a will he drafted. He knew the heirs were going to contest it, so he wanted to make sure it was iron-clad. I guess he was hoping I’d follow in his footsteps.”
“Which you did,” Lara said, and her eyes blurred with tears.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
She folded her hands under her chin. “Let’s see, where to begin.” She started by springing her big news of the day—her mother’s unexpected visit. Safe territory for discussion, at least for now.
Gideon took her by the arms and pushed her toward his high-backed chair, making her sit down. He perched on the edge of his desk and faced her, his brown eyes creased with concern. “You must have been shocked to see her. But pleasantly so, I hope.”
“Gid, do you really have time to listen to all this?” Lara asked him. “I know I interrupted your work. I shouldn’t have come over here without calling.”
“Not true. I always have time for you, and I was getting ready to call it a day anyway.”
“You always work until at least six,” she chided.
“Okay, so I was almost getting ready to call it a day. Tell me, what happened with your mom?”
Lara launched into a recap of everything that transpired from the moment Brenda arrived until she zoomed out of the driveway in her rental car. She told him about her mom bringing the gifts, complaining about the cats, and about the letters Lara had forced her to look at.
Gideon listened without commenting. When she finished, he said, “It was an emotional roller coaster, wasn’t it?”
“Boy, you said it.”
“How do you feel now? Are you glad she made a surprise visit?”
Lara shifted in Gideon’s chair. “I felt better after she left, but I also felt drained. I don’t know what to think about this marriage of hers. Maybe after I meet Rodney I’ll have a better comfort level.” Or not.
“I hope I get to see her before she goes back to Vegas,” Gideon said. “I think the last time I saw her was at our sixth-grade graduation. Rem
ember when the flag toppled off the stage during Vice Principal Daley’s excruciatingly long speech?”
“Oh my God, that’s right. How did you remember that?” Lara laughed. “I think the universe was trying to send him a message.”
“If it was, he clearly didn’t get it. He droned on for another twenty minutes.” Gideon rolled his eyes and grinned, then took Lara’s hands in his. “Come on, Lara, something else is bugging you. I’ve sensed it for a couple days now. Did I say something wrong at dinner the other night?”
Lara shook her head. “No, not wrong. Just... Okay, here goes. Gid, do you remember when you invited me over for popcorn? You said that if I got too bored we could borrow Mrs. Appleton’s cat to entertain me.”
With a perplexed look, he shrugged. “Sure, but I was kidding. You usually know when I’m teasing.”
“I know,” she said. “And it wasn’t your joking about Muffin that bothered me. I didn’t mind that at all. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but...it was more about the way you said it, I guess. It made me think that you think cats might be too big a part of my life.”
His expression serious, Gideon pulled over a rolling chair and sat down in front of Lara. He took her hands in his again, this time holding them tight. “Lara,” he said in the quietest voice she’d ever heard, “that cannot be further from the truth. Everything about you, including your passion for cats, is what made me fall in love with you. I can’t even imagine your life—our lives—moving forward without cats.”
Lara gazed down at their joined hands, then directly into his eyes. “But you don’t have a cat, Gideon,” she said, choking out the words. “Which tells me that you never really wanted one.”
“You’re right, honey, I don’t have one. But that doesn’t mean I never wanted one. Growing up, I never had pets, so I never knew what it was like to have one in the house. The only cats I was exposed to were Uncle Amico’s. It was one of the reasons I loved visiting him—I could roll around on the floor with his cat.”
Tears flowed down Lara’s cheeks. Gideon had always been honest with her. She had no reason to doubt him now. “Wow,” she said and swiped at her face.
