Yule Be Dead Page 7

  “I’ll say.” Feeling better about the situation, Katie changed the subject. “So, tell me about your dinner last night.”

  “It turned out very well. I prepared roast chicken with Asiago polenta and chocolate cheesecake parfaits.”

  “As delicious as that sounds, I’m a little more interested in your date,” Katie said. “Was he impressed with your culinary skills?”

  “I believe so. This morning he asked me to go to Toronto with him for the weekend.”

  “Wow! This is getting serious!”

  They shared a laugh.

  “I’m happy for you,” Katie said. “You deserve someone wonderful.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t want to jinx it. How are you and Andy doing?”

  Katie sighed. “Not great.” She told him what had happened at the pizzeria the night before. “I mean, how was I supposed to introduce Andy to Margo as my boyfriend when Margo was being so nice to me and telling me how much Chad had loved me?”

  “Katie, Chad has been gone for a long time. I seriously doubt Margo expects you to live like a nun.”

  Hadn’t Andy used the same analogy?

  “I know, but . . . but the timing just wasn’t right.”

  “Take this for what it’s worth, kiddo, you aren’t doing anyone any favors—especially yourself—by being dishonest.”

  Was she being dishonest or just keeping the truth to herself? In this case, was it the same thing?

  No matter what she did—or said—someone was likely to be hurt. Why had she chosen to favor Margo’s feelings over Andy’s? Katie didn’t love Margo, but she did love—

  Did she love Andy?

  Sometimes Katie wasn’t quite sure.

  * * *

  • • •

  Not long after she’d talked with Seth, Vance stopped by Katie’s office. The tall, skinny Santa Claus look-alike held a cup of coffee, and his demeanor suggested he wanted to chat.

  “Come on in and shut the door,” Katie said. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  He did as she’d suggested and then sat on the chair next to her. “Janey told me you’re thinking of assuming ownership of Afternoon Tea.”

  “I am considering it, yes.”

  “Well, I wanted to stop by and tell you that she and I support you a hundred percent.”

  Katie couldn’t help grinning. “Aw, thanks, Vance.”

  “What’s holding you back?” he asked.

  The grin was short-lived. “Financing, a fear of spreading myself too thin, not wanting to appear disloyal to the artists and vendors here at Artisans Alley, fear of failure . . . Shall I go on?”

  Vance chuckled. “I think you’ve about covered it. Just don’t sell yourself short, Katie. When you took over running the Alley, it was on the verge of bankruptcy. Afternoon Tea is in much better shape, at least as far as the equipment and furnishings are concerned.”

  “Janey told me you’d done some handyman work for Francine and Vonne.”

  “Very little, and it was at their home, rather than their shop.”

  “And Vonne did something to make you uncomfortable?” she asked, fishing.

  “Damn right she did. The woman made a play for me—despite knowing I’m devoted to Janey.”

  Katie shook her head. “I feel as though I didn’t know Vonne at all. I never would’ve thought she’d do something like that. But from everything I’ve heard since her death, it seemed she just went man-crazy.”

  “Before she . . . um . . . got too flirty, Vonne confided to me that the man she’d dated off and on for several years prior to her moving to McKinlay Mill got married a few months back. Vonne was bitter and resentful of this man’s marital bliss and was determined to show him that she could find someone who’d love her, too.”

  “Wow, that’s sad.”

  “It is,” Vance agreed. “But Vonne was too attractive and smart to throw herself at anyone and everyone in order to spite an ex-boyfriend. I told her that, as a matter of fact, and I’m afraid she took it as an overture.”

  “I’m sorry. She must’ve been miserable. I wish I’d known and that I could’ve helped her in some way.”

  Vance shrugged. “I don’t know, Katie. Had you been nice to her, she might’ve made a play for you, too.”

  Katie merely shook her head. Vance obviously didn’t know Vonne was pregnant at the time of her death. “I’m definitely sure I wasn’t her type.”

  Vance laughed. “These days, you just never know.”

  Katie’s phone rang. Vance stood, gave her a little wave, and left. Katie answered to find that it was Ray calling.

  “Katie, Sasha was throwing up in the bathroom last night.”

  “Oh no. How is she this morning?”

  “She’s fine. When I asked her about her being sick, she said she saw something gross in her science book and it gagged her. She said it was no big deal. I think it is a big deal. I believe she forced herself to throw up her dinner.”

  “Surely not. Maybe she did gag over one of those photographs—they put some disgusting things in those science books, you know,” Katie said. “I’m afraid I might’ve put the idea of Sasha forcing herself to throw up into your head when—”

  “And I’m afraid you’ve got your head in the sand. I was one of the best police detectives on the force. I know guilt when I see it, and I know when someone is lying. I thought you were going to help me with this.”

  “I am. Calm down, Ray. Do you want me to talk with Sasha about it?”

  “No. Not yet.” He muttered a curse. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Let’s both think on it, and we’ll talk later. All right?”

  “Yeah . . . all right.”

  After ending the call, Katie stared at the cluttered surface of her desk for long moments before she logged on to her computer to learn more about anorexia.

  * * *

  • • •

  It was nearly ten when Margo arrived at Artisans Alley wearing navy slacks and blazer, a blue-and-white-print blouse, and black ankle boots. Her makeup was flawless, and not a hair on her head was out of place. And yet she said she felt dowdy, since she wasn’t in costume like Katie.

  “Believe me, you look stunning,” Katie said.

  “Thanks, but I’m sure you’re merely being kind. If I planned to stay longer, I’d have to invest in one of these Dickensian costumes, but I suppose it would be pointless, since I’ll be leaving in a couple of days.”

  Katie was relieved to hear that Margo didn’t feel she’d be in town long enough to warrant a costume. She’d been afraid to ask the woman how long she’d planned on staying.

  “I haven’t had breakfast,” Margo said. “Have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then let’s walk over to that tea shop you’ve been telling me about.”

  Katie frowned. “Technically they don’t open until eleven thirty, but Francine arrives hours before that to bake and get the dining room ready for the day. I have to warn you that the food hasn’t been up to par lately.”

  “That’s all right. If I don’t see anything that appeals to me, we’ll go elsewhere.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Katie slipped out of her costume and they headed for the exit.

  While they were en route to Afternoon Tea, Nona Fiske came rushing out of The Quiet Quilter to intercept them.

  “Did you talk to her?” Nona demanded.

  Ignoring her question, Katie said, “Good morning, Nona. Have you met Margo yet?”

  “No, I—”

  “Nona, is it?” Margo extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Margo Bonner.”

  “Bonner?” Nona echoed.

  “Yes. I’m Chad’s mother.”

  “Oh. Well. It’s nice to meet you. I . . . I’m Nona Fiske. I own The Quiet Quilter.”

  Quiet? Usually, Nona was anything but quiet.

  “I’m sure your shop is charming,” Margo said. “I’ll look forward to coming by and checking it out . . . hopefully, later today.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Frowning, Nona turned her attention back to Katie. “Have you spoken to Rhonda Simpson yet about copying my patterns?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  Before Katie could comment further, Margo jumped in. “Rhonda is simply as sweet as sugar, isn’t she?” She continued before Nona could reply. “I believe if I were you, I’d try to form a sort of alliance with her. I mean, someone who likes her Sweet Sue pillowcases would probably love to have a Sweet Sue quilt, don’t you think? You could work out a way to sell them as a set, or you could at least promote each other.”

  Nona’s frown deepened. “Hmm . . . I’d never thought of that.”

  “It’s worth considering. You could both possibly make considerably more money if you utilize each other as assets.”

  “I’ll think it over.” Nona said good-bye and headed back to her shop at a much slower pace than her arrival.

  “Sorry if I overstepped,” Margo told Katie. “I was in human resources for years, and sometimes I had to get pretty creative when it came to encouraging people to get along.”

  “You didn’t overstep at all,” Katie said. “I just hope it works. Your approach beats lawsuits and name-calling all to pieces.”

  Margo merely smiled and opened the door to Afternoon Tea.

  Francine was setting silverware on lacy paper place mats but immediately abandoned the job and hurried to greet Katie and Margo. “Welcome, ladies!”

  “Hi, Francine. I’d like you to meet Margo Bonner.”

  “Margo, the pleasure is all mine,” Francine said, sizing Margo up. “Are you thinking of going in on the tea shop with Katie?”

  Both Katie and Margo started at the rather impertinent question.

  “Oh no. I’m most definitely retired. I’m only here for breakfast.”

  “What about you, Katie?”

  “I know you’re not officially open for the day, but I’d like some breakfast, too.”

  “I meant about the shop,” Francine persisted.

  “I’m still considering it.”

  “All right. But don’t take too long. I’ve had other inquiries, you know.”

  “Oh? Are any of them serious?” Katie asked.

  Francine hesitated. “Well . . . of course.”

  Katie nodded, not sure she believed the woman. She changed the subject. “Have Vonne’s arrangements been finalized?” Katie asked.

  “They have. I’m having a very small memorial service on Sunday.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Margo said with sympathy. “Katie told me about your daughter.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish I’d been a better friend to Vonne,” Katie told Francine. “I’m only now discovering all she’d been going through.”

  “What Vonne had been going through?” Francine scoffed. “Like what?”

  “I understand that her longtime boyfriend married someone else,” Katie said. “I imagine the fact that he could move on from her so quickly hit her hard.”

  “The guy was never that crazy about Vonne to begin with.” Francine shook her head. “Charles wanted a woman with a good education and a successful career . . . someone he’d be proud to take home to his parents and show off at corporate events. I tried to tell Vonne that for years, but she simply wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “And how did she take it when you said I told you so?” Margo asked.

  “She didn’t like it one bit. In fact, that’s when Vonne dumped the entire tea shop in my lap and started running wild.”

  “Ah.” Margo nodded. “I take it Vonne inherited her coping skills from her father. I feel certain you’re able to keep a clear head, Francine.”

  “Vonne took on everything from her father. She didn’t have any of my traits at all.”

  A delivery truck pulled up outside the door, and Francine scurried to intercept the driver. “If you see anything that appeals to you,” she said to the room at large, “please let me know.”

  Five minutes later, Katie and Margo left with cups of hot tea and two blueberry muffins.

  “Was Vonne Francine’s stepdaughter?” Margo asked as the women headed back to Artisans Alley.

  “I . . . I don’t know.” Katie had never thought to question the nature of the women’s relationship. Everyone recognized them as mother and daughter.

  “I just think it’s odd that Francine was adamant that Vonne had none of her traits. It made me think that she was Francine’s husband’s daughter from a previous marriage or something. Francine clearly doesn’t behave like a woman who lost a child. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t act like a woman who’d even lost a friend,” Margo commented.

  No, she didn’t, which piqued Katie’s curiosity about the woman. Why was she so insistent about selling the tea shop? Where was the grief she felt at losing a daughter—be it natural or stepchild? Why was she acting so out of character, if indeed her actions and reactions were out of character?

  Katie wished she knew.

  Seven

  The parking lot was half-full of holiday shoppers, and many of them were bustling about Artisans Alley when Katie and Margo returned.

  “My goodness. Is it always so busy on a weekday morning?” Margo asked.

  “No, but this is definitely what’s known as the Christmas rush. It’s make-it-or-break-it time for retail.”

  Margo looked around at the shoppers loitering around various booths and choking the aisles. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to spend more time in Chad’s Pad. I’ve got books I can read on my phone.”

  “Of course,” Katie said. “I don’t have a lot to do today, so we should be able to leave around noon and go do something fun. Would you like to go antiquing?”

  “I’d love to, but don’t make any concessions on my account. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do, Katie. I realize my visit hit you out of the blue. It wasn’t my intention to disrupt your life.”

  “You aren’t. But I want us to do something fun today.”

  “All right. Come find me when you’re ready.”

  They parted and, after shedding her coat, Katie went directly to her office. Once there, she sat before her desk and lifted the lid from her tea, then retrieved the Artisans Alley checkbook from her locked cabinet drawer. Bill-paying was the priority of the day, and it shouldn’t take too awfully long.

  As she sorted through the envelopes in her inbox, she considered the possibility that Vonne could be Francine’s stepdaughter. Maybe Francine and Vonne’s father married late in life, and that’s why Francine wasn’t particularly close to Vonne. But, then, Katie had heard Vonne call Francine Mom. Still, many stepchildren did the same.

  There was a perfunctory knock at the door before Rose came in and dropped off the morning mail, but it took a few moments for her presence to register in Katie’s brain.

  “My dear, you seem to be a million miles away,” she said to Katie.

  “Not that far.” Katie smiled. “Just down the street a bit. I’ve been wondering if maybe Francine and Vonne weren’t actually related by blood and if that’s the reason Francine isn’t more upset over her death.”

  Rose shrugged. “I guess that’s possible. Francine and Vonne weren’t originally from McKinlay Mill, so I’m not familiar with their history.”

  “I wonder who would be.”

  Rose looked thoughtful. “Let me think on it. I’m sorry to say that Vance had to run Arthur Henderson off while you and Margo were out.”

  Katie groaned. “What did he do this time?”

  “He stole one of the primitive animals from Joan McDonald’s booth. A pig, I think.”

  “And Vance caught him with it?”

  “Yes, but Arthur said he was carrying it downstairs to pay for it,” Rose said. “But Vance saw him stuffing it into his pocket.”

  “I doubt he was going to do so, but since he hadn’t left Artisans Alley yet, he has a valid argument that he was placing the item in his pocket in order to keep his hands free while he finished shopping. We have no proof that he didn’t intend to pay for it before he left.” She sighed. “I guess I need to call the vendors together and address this. Thanks, Rose.”

  As her friend left the office, Katie’s phone rang. It was Andy.

  “Hi, handsome.”

  “Are you this flirty with all your friends?” he asked sarcastically. “Or just your landlord friend?”

  She blew out a breath and ignored the question. “I don’t think Margo plans to be here much past the weekend.”

  “Not much past the weekend?” he asked, his tone softening. “I miss you and want to see you. Couldn’t I take you and Margo to dinner tonight as your friend?”

  “Ray Davenport invited us to his place for dinner tonight. His oldest daughter, Sophie, is home from culinary school and wanted to make a special meal. I’m certain it’s because she’s wrangling for a summer internship should I end up taking over the tea shop.”

  Andy didn’t respond, and after a long moment Katie was afraid that their call had been disconnected. “Andy?”

  “Yep. I’m here. So you can hang out with your friend Ray but not with me?”

  “It isn’t like that, Andy. Margo and Ray really hit it off yesterday. It would be good for both of them if they became friends.”

  “Yeah . . . whatever. Just call me when you have time to work me into your schedule.”

  “Maybe tomorrow we could all get together after the tree-lighting ceremony?”

  “Maybe. See you.”

  Katie sighed and put aside her phone. Andy was obviously upset . . . and she supposed he had every right to be. But it wasn’t like she’d invited Margo here. A little voice within her whispered that Katie could have been honest with Margo and the three of them could be having dinner tonight rather than Katie and Margo dining with the Davenports, but that still seemed wrong somehow. Wouldn’t that make Margo feel like Katie had replaced Chad? No one would ever replace Chad in her heart. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make room in her heart for someone else, though.