“Then at least one good thing has come of this,” Tricia said.
“There are still some things I don’t get,” Angelica said. “Everybody knows Steve doesn’t drive. So who tried to run Tricia and me off the road?”
“It was Steve,” Nikki said. “It wasn’t that he couldn’t drive—he just didn’t. He lost his license years ago from a DWI conviction. He never tried to get it back.”
“But whose car did he use?”
“Apparently he stole one in Milford, then returned it to the same house he’d taken it from. If it weren’t for the smashed windshield—”
“From where the goose hit it,” Tricia piped up.
“The owner probably wouldn’t have known it was even taken.”
“Don’t tell me Sheriff Adams figured that out.”
Nikki shook her head. “Once Steve got talking, he couldn’t shut up. He told the deputies everything.”
“Can I try one of those Danish?” Russ said, dusting the muffin crumbs from his fingers.
“Oh, sure.” Nikki held up the tray, offering him the pastries.
Angelica was still shaking her head. “But I don’t understand where Zoe got the manuscripts. Tricia, didn’t you say she got them at an estate sale? Did they come in a box lot?”
“I can answer that,” Fiona said. “My husband didn’t approve of my writing, so I had to hide the manuscripts. I lived in fear he’d destroy them, so I kept them in an old trunk. It sounds stupid and corny, but I put a false bottom in the trunk. If he’d ever thought to look carefully, he would’ve found them.”
“Did you know about the trunk?” Tricia asked Nikki.
She nodded. “And I told Steve about that, too.”
“The night Kimberly was attacked, I saw an old trunk in Zoe’s home office. Steve did a real number on it. I doubt it can be repaired.”
“I don’t care about that. I left it—and the manuscripts—behind a long time ago,” Fiona said.
“But aren’t you furious that Zoe took the credit and made all that money from your work?” Ginny asked.
“Of course. I’ve got two kids who will head off to university in two years. I’ll probably consult a lawyer, but I don’t have the kind of money to wage a long legal battle—and that’s most likely what would end up happening.”
“So no happy ending there,” Ginny said.
“Perhaps not, but I’ll never regret you sent me that e-mail, Tricia. It gave me a way to reconnect with my daughter.” Fiona gazed at Nikki with loving eyes.
Nikki, however, wasn’t as easily placated. “We’ve still got a lot of issues to resolve. A one-night chat-a-thon can’t solve everything.”
“But at least we’ve agreed to talk everything through and try to remain civil,” Fiona added.
Nikki nodded. “Hey, it takes some getting used to, finding out the mother you thought was dead is still alive, and you’ve got a whole new family you never knew about. I’ve got a brother and sister to meet sometime in the near future.”
Fiona gazed at her watch. “And I’ve got an interview in less than half an hour. Tricia, that friend of yours, Portia McAlister, wants to make me the feature on her newscast tonight, talking about how I wrote the Jess and Addie books, and what I think of all that’s happened in the last week.”
“That ought to give your Bonnie Chesterfield series a push, too,” Tricia said.
Fiona laughed. “At the very least, I’m determined to prove that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
The door opened yet again, this time admitting Artemus Hamilton, whose leather-gloved hand held Kimberly’s.
Her face was still swollen and bruised, but her toothless smile would’ve brightened a cold, dark night.
“Tri-ah,” Kimberly managed, “Oo loo li me.”
“Not too much talking, now,” Hamilton warned her gently. “Kimberly got released from the hospital first thing this morning, and we made a stop before coming here,” he said.
Kimberly pulled off her left glove. “-ook!” She wiggled her hand, showing off what was probably a two-carat diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. “An Ar-ie’s gonna sell my ook.”
“I’m going to try,” he said, glancing at her with fondness, seeing past her temporary ugliness to the beautiful soul beyond.
“Would you like a muffin?” Angelica said, proffering the plate.
Kimberly shook her head.
“For now, she can only drink room temperature liquids,” Hamilton explained.
“An -oy, am I -ungry,” she said, laughing.
“I have some good news for you, too, Ms. Miles.”
“For me?” Tricia said.
He shook his head, then turned to look at Angelica. “I read your manuscript yesterday. It’s well done. There’s a market out there for time-stressed working women who want to feed their families healthy foods. I think I could sell it—at least, I’d like to try.”
“Well, of course you would,” Angelica said, her smile as wide as Tricia had ever seen it, and she gave her sister an “I told you so” glance.
“We’ll need to talk more about it, and you’ll need to do some rewriting before I can start rounding it to publishers. But it doesn’t have to happen today. I’ll give you a call early next week.”
“You have my number,” Angelica said brightly.
“I’ve got a question,” Russ said, directing his gaze to Kimberly. “The night you were attacked, you said the word ‘stone’ to Tricia. Did Steve Fenton tell you that was the name of the author of the Jess and Addie books, or were you talking about the desecrated statue?”
“Boph,” she said. “He hur- me—hittin- me. Saying I wou- pay for wha- happen to Fayfe Thone.”
“The thing is,” Hamilton said, “Kimberly didn’t have a clue who Fenton was talking about.”
“I’m so sorry he put you through that,” Fiona said.
“I sorry my aun- -tole you wok. Fo- a lon- time, I din know.”
“Everyone thought you were dead,” Hamilton added.
“That doesn’t make it right, but I do understand,” Fiona said.
Ginny brought over a tray of Haven’t Got a Clue paper coffee cups, the carafe, sugar, and cream, setting it all down on the nook’s table. She picked up a cup, raising it into the air. “Why don’t we all cheer up?” she suggested. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate this morning.”
“I sure do,” Angelica said.
The door opened yet again, this time admitting Frannie Armstrong. “Come on, boss, we’ve got a store to open,” she said, her smile so wide it showed off most of her teeth.
“Boss?” Tricia asked, in awe.
Frannie entered the store, closing the door behind her.
“In a minute,” Angelica told Frannie. She picked up the carafe, poured coffee into all the cups. “Bob and I had a long discussion last night after we left the hospital.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t know what I see in that man.”
Amen, Tricia felt like echoing; instead, she bit her tongue.
“When I found out what he was actually paying Frannie, I knew I could do better, and even give her benefits. I called her last night the minute I got home. Woke her from a sound sleep, too.”
“But that was one call I was glad to take,” Frannie said.
“What about the Chamber?” Russ asked. “Who’ll be manning the reception desk?”
“I offered to give Bob two weeks’ notice, but he seemed in rather a big hurry to get rid of me. So much for a decade of dedicated service.” Frannie shrugged. “I start today at the Cookery.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re supposed to open in twelve minutes, Angelica. Don’t you think we ought to be going?”
Before Angelica could answer, the door opened once again. “It worked, Tricia, it worked!” Bob called, his voice jubilant. Then he caught sight of his former employee standing in the middle of the crowd, and his face fell. “What’s going on?”
“Just a gathering of friends,” Angelica answered. “And what worked?”
Bob tore his gaze from Frannie, focusing his attention on Tricia. “Wow, you look terrible.”