Angelica flitted around the room with a silver tray filled with mini quiches, offering them to one and all.
Among the missing, of course, were Libby and Joe Hirt, and Brian Comstock. No surprises there.
Distracted by the crowd, Tricia was caught off guard when Russ insinuated himself next to her once again. “I’ve been trying to get you on your own for the past hour. Are you avoiding me?”
“You made your feelings toward me quite clear. And after what happened at the inn on Friday, I don’t think we have anything to say to one another.”
“I left several messages for you to call me before then. You ignored them.”
“Yes, I did.”
He frowned. “Okay, I admit I made a mistake in calling off-us.”
Tricia turned a level glare at him. “I take it you’ve had a change of plans?”
Russ frowned. “Okay, so the job in Philadelphia fell through. And I’ve decided not to put the paper up for sale. It looks like I won’t be leaving Stoneham after all.” He gave a weak laugh. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I was hoping we could… still be friends.”
Tricia said nothing.
“Actually, more than friends. Is there a chance things could go back to the way they were before I opened my big, stupid mouth?”
Tricia still said nothing.
“I’d like to think we could try.”
“You are asking a lot.”
The shop door opened, the little bell overhead ringing cheerfully. A stranger entered and paused. “I’m sorry. I thought the store was open today,” he said.
Tricia strode over to the door-anything to get away from Russ. “We’re opening late. As you can see, we’re hosting a wedding.”
Tricia did a double take. The man in front of her was Grant Baker. She hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. He looked… nice.
He also looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, already backing away.
“Don’t be silly. Come on in; have some coffee and a piece of wedding cake.”
He shook his head. “I only came to… to get a book.”
“I thought you didn’t read mysteries or true crime.”
“Maybe I decided to broaden my horizons.” He let the door close on his back and stepped closer to Tricia, lowering his voice. “Or… maybe I came just to see you. To see if you were free for dinner tonight.”
Tricia looked to her right and left. Was he actually speaking to her?
“Um…” At the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw Russ nearby, eavesdropping. Tricia smiled. “I think that would be very nice.”
“And I also wanted to tell you what you did for Pam Fredericks was decent and noble. Especially since you were only… sort of… friends.”
Tricia’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t mentioned this to anyone. How had he found out? “I don’t know what you mean,” she bluffed.
“Claiming her body, paying to have it buried. Apparently she wasn’t a very good friend to you, but you proved more than once you were probably the only true friend she ever had.”
Tricia grabbed his elbow, and pulled him away from the other guests. “How did you find out?” she hissed.
“You dealt with Baker Funeral Home, right? My cousin Glenn owns it.”
The breath caught in Tricia’s throat. “I assumed Mr. Baker would’ve been more discreet.”
“Don’t worry; he didn’t say a word. Our office was notified by the Medical Examiner when the body was released.”
Okay, she could believe that.
Angelica made a pass with her tray. “Hi, Captain Baker. Try one of these delicious spinach mini quiches.”
“Captain Baker?” Bob repeated, worry tingeing his voice-no doubt remembering Tricia’s threat to turn him in to the law. He stepped away-fast.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Baker said, taking an offered napkin and two of the quiches. He bit into one, chewed, and swallowed. “Hey, these are terrific.”
“Tricia helped make them,” Angelica said, beaming, then moved on to another guest.
“And you can cook, too,” he said, impressed.
Tricia shook her head and sighed. “My helping consisted of squeezing the water out of cold, wet spinach until it was dry. I’m not bragging when I tell you that I can barely boil water.”
Baker laughed, but his expression soon became serious again. He nodded toward Stuart Paige. “How did he get invited to this little shindig?”
“Mr. Paige and Grace-she’s the bride-have been friends for years.”
Baker nodded. “I understand you showed him a page from the diary.”
Tricia felt a squirm crawl along her spine. “Yes. I wanted to verify my suspicions on its author.”
“What have you done with the rest of your copy of the diary?”
“Copy?” she asked, in all innocence.
“Yes, all ninety-seven pages.”
She sighed. “Nothing, yet. I thought I might offer it to Eugenia Hirt. It’s not a very flattering portrayal of her birth mother-but it might give her an even greater appreciation for her adoptive mother. But I’ll wait a while before I mention it to her. She’s had enough upsets for now.”
“It’ll give her something to read while she awaits her trial.” Baker wiped his fingers on his napkin. “I’ve had a chance to go through all those letters we found in the shoebox in Pam Fredericks’s car. She was related to M. J. Collins, all right. The woman was Pam’s aunt-her mother’s sister.”
Tricia sighed. “That made Eugenia and Pammy first cousins. Imagine that-she tried to blackmail her own cousin.”
A burst of laughter came from the crowd around the buffet table, reminding Tricia that this was supposed to be a happy occasion. “Do we have to talk about Pammy anymore?”
“I still want to know why you did what you did-taking care of her in death,” Baker pressed.
Tricia gave another long sigh. “Because…”
She didn’t need to say anything. Officially, he needed no explanation.
Still…
She looked into his mesmerizing green eyes. “It was the right thing to do.”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “Yes, it was.”
“Did you ever get that letter addressed to her at General Delivery?”
He nodded. “It was from her brother. It said, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to contact him or any other member of the family again. Apparently she’d taken not only the diary and the letters we found in the trunk of her car, but she’d cleaned out her mother’s jewelry box and taken other valuables the last time she’d visited.”
“Oh, my. Poor Pammy.”
“I’d say poor Pammy’s family.”
The sound of a champagne cork popping was a welcome distraction. Bob Kelly held the bottle of fizz aloft. “Time for the toast!”
Angelica worked the room, tray in hand, offering glasses that were already filled. She paused in front of Tricia and Baker, gave her sister a knowing wink, and then moved off to serve the rest of the guests.
Bob filled flutes for Mr. Everett and Grace before clearing his throat. He held his glass before him. “Friends, I’m sure everyone here will join me in wishing William and Grace a long and joy-filled life together. May they always be as happy as they are at this moment.”
“Hear, hear,” came the chant as everyone raised his or her glass in salute.
When everyone had taken a sip, Mr. Everett offered his glass. “To my beautiful bride.”
Again, those assembled raised their glasses and cheered.
Mr. Everett raised his glass once again. “And now, I’d like to say thank you to the person who made this all possible. To my employer and my friend, Ms. Tricia Miles. Thank you, Ms. Miles. You’ve not only made an old man feel useful again, but if it weren’t for you, Grace and I would never have”-he paused, and seemed unsure of his next words-“hooked up.”
Everyone laughed and then cheered.
Grant Baker turned to Tricia and lifted his glass. “Here’s hoping we can”-he paused, and did not say “hook up”-“start out by being friends, and see where that leads.”