“Are you still working in the apartment?” she asked.
“We’re just about done,” I said, pulling my hair free from its ponytail.
“I have a shower curtain and a window curtain for the bathroom and a roman shade for the kitchen.”
“Aw, Jess, you’re an angel,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem.” I pictured her in her sewing room, her feet probably propped up on the table. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” I said. My stomach chose that moment to growl, reminding me that all I’d had was a banana for lunch.
“Mac still there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You guys stay where you are. I made pork and cabbage. I’ll bring some over, along with the curtains. I really wanna see how the place looks.”
A bowl of Jess’s pork and cabbage sounded a lot better than anything I would have come up with for supper.
“We’ll be here,” I said.
“See you in ten,” she said, ending the call.
I turned to Mac. “Jess is bringing supper. And unlike me, she can cook. Can you stay?”
He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
There was a round wooden pedestal table in the living room that we’d moved out of the kitchen. Mac and I each grabbed an end and we set it back in the corner.
“What are you going to do with this when Rose moves in?” Mac asked. He tipped his head to one side and studied the table. At the moment it was painted a muddy shade of brown.
“Take it back to the shop and strip it,” I said over my shoulder as I headed back into the living room for the folding chairs that had been doubling as kitchen chairs.
“What are you thinking about for a finish?” he asked, coming to the doorway to take two of the chairs from me.
“I’m thinking a whitewash if the wood is in decent condition.”
He nodded slowly.
“Remember those white chairs we got at that yard sale in the fall? The ones with the cat-scratched fabric seats?”
“They smelled like cigarette smoke.”
I nodded. “I’m thinking of painting them lavender and getting Jess to make me new seats in some darker purple fabric.”
“That could work.”
I rinsed my cloth in the sink and wiped a fine layer of dust off the top of the table.
“I was holding on to this for Jess,” I said. “She wanted it for the new shop, but now that North Landing is pretty much dead, there won’t be a new shop.”
“You really think the development isn’t going to happen?” Mac asked. He moved around the kitchen, picking up small bits of wood we’d discarded as shims when we were installing the cupboards.
“It’ll be months before Lily’s estate is settled.”
“True, but everything probably goes to her mother. She could sign an agreement to sell to the developer when the property is finally hers.”
“She could,” I said, taking the cloth back to the sink to shake it out.
“But you don’t think she will.”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “Lily was so against selling. I don’t think Caroline will do it. They are . . . were very close.” I hung the wet cloth over the tap and turned, leaning against the counter. “What do you think about the whole proposal? Do you think it’s a good idea? Is it sound financially?”
It occurred to me that I could have—maybe should have—asked Mac for his thoughts sooner. He had been a financial adviser for many years before he’d decided he’d rather sail and make things with his hands.
“I just saw a preliminary prospectus,” he said, bending down to pick up two thin shims that had somehow slid into the living room. “But what I saw looks good.” He straightened up.
“But?” I said.
He exhaled quietly and turned the two scraps of wood over in his hands. “The research seems to be solid. There’s definitely an interest in development on the scale West is proposing. His financing is solid.”
I sensed a little hesitation. “But?”
“West’s carrying a lot of debt for a small company. If this deal falls through, it could break him.” Mac shrugged. “Those are just my thoughts based on a quick read-through of the simplified prospectus. I could be wrong.”
But he probably wasn’t. When Mac gave his opinion, it was after he’d taken the time to think things through.
Jess tapped on the door then so I didn’t have a chance to say anything. She had a gray garment bag in one hand and a red insulated cooler in the other. Mac took the cooler and I grabbed the garment bag, taking it into the bathroom and hanging it over the shower rod because there really wasn’t anywhere else to put it.
“The blind is out in my car.” Jess gestured at the red bag. “The food and everything you need is inside,” she said. She waved her hand in the direction of the hall. “I’ll just go get the blind and we can eat.”
Right on cue my stomach growled.
Jess laughed. “I’ll hurry.”
I unzippered the top of the insulated cooler. She’d brought everything—bowls and forks, three small wineglasses and a huge stoneware crock of her pork and cabbage. Tucked in the outside pocket of the bag was a small bottle of apple cider.
Mac opened the cider and poured a glass for each of us while I dished out the pork and cabbage. It was still hot.
“It smells good,” Mac said as he moved behind me with the glasses.
“Thank you,” Jess said from the doorway. She set the blind on the counter and kicked off her boots. “Oh, this looks nice,” she said approvingly, looking around the room.
“Thanks,” I said.
She leaned around the living room doorway. “Umm, I like that color on the walls.”
The living room, bathroom and bedroom were a creamy, buttery shade that warmed the small rooms.
“That’s because you picked it out,” I teased.
“And I do have good taste,” she retorted.
She shook off her coat and hung it over the back of the chair. “Let’s eat,” she said.
The meat and sweet cabbage in a spicy sauce was as delicious as I’d promised Mac it would be. About halfway through the meal, Jess ran her hand over the tabletop.
“I hate it, but you might as well sell this table,” she said with a sigh. “There’s no way North Landing is going to happen now.”
I turned to her, my spoon halfway between the bowl and my mouth. “What do you mean by ‘now’? Has something happened?”
She looked from Mac to me. “Right. You’ve been working here all day, so you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?” I asked. I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach, as though I’d just rolled over the top of a roller coaster. I knew what she was going to say before she spoke.
“Lily’s death has officially been called a homicide.”
I rubbed the space between my eyes with two fingers. “You know what this means, don’t you?” I said.
Jess looked confused. “No,” she said.
Mac gave me a sympathetic smile. “It means the Angels are going to be spreading their wings.”
Chapter 6
I was lying on the couch with Elvis sprawled across my chest, trying to read—and failing because someone’s big, furry head kept getting in the way—when my cell phone rang later that evening. I put the book on the floor and reached for the phone while Elvis raised his head and glared at me.
“You could always go lie somewhere else,” I said.
He narrowed his green eyes at me and flopped back down again.
It was Nick on the phone. “Hi,” he said. “Am I taking you away from anything important?”
I folded one arm behind my head. “No. I’m just basically being a lounge chair for a cat. What’s up?”
I heard him exhale slowly and pictured him swiping a hand over his chin. “I didn’t know if you’d heard: Lily’s death has been ruled a homicide.”
“I know,” I said. “Jess told me.” I’d been trying not to think about what she’d said, but I hadn’t really succeeded. “Do you think it could have anything to do with the development proposal?”