“Yes,” Angelica said emphatically. “Can you go this morning?”

“I guess. I have a lunch date today, but I can check out the big craft store on Route 101 before then.”

“Even if we can only decorate the baskets lining Main Street, it would at least be welcoming to the tourists when they get off the buses.”

“And when is redecorating the baskets going to happen?”

Angelica grimaced. “Tonight.”

“And who is going to do it?” Tricia asked, already knowing the answer.

“Why, you and me of course.”

“Of course. What about Antonio?”

“You can’t expect him to leave Ginny late at night with the baby due to arrive at any moment.”

No, she didn’t.

“Couldn’t Nigela Ricita Associates pull someone from the Brookview Inn to do this?”

“And let it get out that we’re replacing the real flowers with silk?”

“Somebody’s bound to notice.”

Angelica’s lips pursed.

“Okay. Do I even have to ask who’s going to be climbing the ladder?” Tricia asked.

“You know I’m afraid of heights,” Angelica said, appalled at the idea.

Yes, she did.

Tricia drained her cup. “I have just enough time to shower and change before Mariana reports for work at the Chamber.”

“If I haven’t told you lately, I really appreciate all the work you’re doing for the Chamber. I don’t know what I’ll do when you go back to your real life, and it will be all too soon.”

Not soon enough, Tricia thought. “I’m happy I can take on some of the work to make it easier on you.”

“The Chamber is now big enough that it needs a dedicated employee to run it—not a part-time volunteer, and that’s where I’m going to steer it. The membership has already grown faster in the past eight months than I’d considered it would during my two-year tenure.”

“It’s your leadership,” Tricia said. Angelica shook her head in denial, but she did look pleased at the sentiment. “I’ve gotta go,” Tricia said, getting up from her stool and pausing at the sink to rinse her paper cup before placing it in the recycling bin.

“I’ll see you later,” Angelica called as Tricia headed for the stairs.

As Tricia closed the Cookery’s door behind her, she pondered the kind of personality that could deprive the villagers and tourists of the beauty the flowers had brought. Could it have been Bob? Her thoughts had immediately gone to him, but only because he’d been annoying her of late. The truth was that there were plenty of villagers who were unhappy with the changes that had come to Stoneham during the past five years and were quite vocal about it. They were the ones who’d elected Earl Winkler.

Why did the sourpusses in life want to ruin things for everyone else?

•   •   •

The big arts-and-crafts store on Route 101 was running a sale, and Tricia cleaned them out of silk flowers. The manager had come to the register to help bag the sale, pleased that she could put out the Halloween and Thanksgiving stock that was already languishing in her storeroom.

It was getting close to noon when Tricia returned to the village and pulled into the municipal parking lot. Instead of hauling her purchases to the Chamber office, she left the bags of faux flowers in the trunk. They weren’t going to wilt, even under the blistering midday sun.

She had just enough time to stop at Booked for Lunch to pick up the orders she’d phoned in hours before, then carried them two doors down to the Happy Domestic. Technically Ginny wasn’t supposed to be working. She was officially on maternity leave, but staying at home with nothing to do but fret did not sit well with her. “I’d rather stay occupied,” she’d said more than once.

Tricia entered the shop and the bell over the door jangled. The sound was like a knife thrust to her soul. It sounded so like the one at Haven’t Got a Clue. Some days the sound didn’t bother her, and others, like today, the pain from the loss of her store was almost too much to bear.

Ginny’s assistant, Brittney, was helping a customer, but she gestured with her thumb, indicating the backroom. Tricia nodded and headed that way. “Hello,” she called before pushing through the saloon doors that separated the retail operation from the much smaller storeroom that doubled as an office.

Ginny sat at the big beat-up desk with stacks of paperwork before her. She looked up and a grin lit her features. “Thank goodness you’re here. I could eat a bear—raw!”

“And risk trichinosis?”

“I thought you could only get that from undercooked pork.”

“Pork, bears, and other wild game infected with parasites. Do you really want to take the risk?”

Ginny looked down at her bulging belly. “No. Besides, I already know that you’ve got a BLT and a cup of the soup of the day. Which is . . . ?”

“Black bean.”

“Oh, my favorite—except it hasn’t treated me well since . . .” Again she looked down at her belly.

“More information than I needed to know,” Tricia said, and laughed. She took the seat across from Ginny and doled out the foam containers, plasticware, and napkins. Instead of her usual tuna plate, Tricia had ordered a julienned salad. Miss Marple would love some of the excess slices of ham and cheese as an indulgent snack. Since she knew it was Ginny’s favorite dessert, Tricia had also ordered a piece of Angelica’s decadent carrot cake for the two of them to splurge on and share.

“It won’t be long now,” Tricia said.

“A week from today, if the calculations are right.”

“What are your plans after the baby arrives?” Tricia asked, dipping a piece of lettuce into her dressing.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” Ginny said, her voice subdued.

“You’ve changed your mind about working?” Tricia asked, surprised.

Ginny dipped her spoon into the soup and stirred. “Not at all. But I might change my mind about where I work.”

“You’d give up the Happy Domestic? But I thought you were happy here.”

“I have been deliriously happy here, but I’m not sure the hours are conducive to a happy family life.”

“Your boss seems quite amenable when it comes to flexible hours.”

“I’ve been very lucky,” Ginny admitted, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Tricia poked at her salad. She’d known things would change once the baby arrived, but the thought of not seeing Ginny on a regular basis caught her off guard.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ginny said once she’d swallowed. “I might like to try my hand at management of another kind.”

“Oh?”

“While I would love to work with Antonio either at the Brookview Inn or the office down the street, I don’t think it’s good for a couple to be attached at the hip day and night.”

“Is there an opening at NRA?” Tricia asked. Angelica hadn’t mentioned it, but then she hadn’t gone into the details of how her business ran, either.

“I don’t know. I think it could be fun to work on projects that have end dates, not just picking baubles, waiting on customers, and banking the receipts. Maybe NRA will open another business here in town. Maybe they’d let me manage a couple of different stores or other parts of the operation.” She shrugged. “What I’d really like is a job with more regular hours—and weekends off would sure be a treat, too.”

“Have you spoken to Antonio about that?”

“He doesn’t have a problem with it.”

“Has he mentioned it to your boss?”

Ginny shook her head. “I’ve asked him not to. Not just yet, at least. And I’d like to talk to Ms. Ricita directly.”

And you’ll get that opportunity sooner than you know, Tricia thought. She decided to move away from the subject. “Have you come up with names for the baby yet?”

Ginny nodded. “If it’s a girl, Sofia, after Antonio’s mother. If it’s a boy, William, after my father and Mr. Everett.”

It stood to reason Antonio wouldn’t name his son after his own father. The man had abandoned him. It was Angelica who’d bought him clothes and paid for his schooling. “Mr. Everett will like that.”