“Oh, my . . .” Trixie had just taken a drink of Mountain Dew, and it spewed into the air.
“Yeah.” Skye grabbed a tissue from her purse and handed it to Trixie. “That was my reaction, too.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Trixie gazed expectantly at Skye. “We won’t let her get away with it, right?”
“Well, I didn’t sign her petition.”
“Like that’ll stop Without-a-Clue Pru.” Trixie blotted the electric yellow liquid from her pale pink T-shirt. “You and I need to nip her scheme in the bud.”
“What makes you think we can stop her?”
“’Cause we’re smarter?”
“Maybe,” Skye acknowledged. “But she’s as persistent as a smoker’s cough.”
“Then we’ll have to find some way to persuade her it’s in her best interest to back off.” Trixie put her right hand over her heart. “As a librarian I’m sworn to oppose censorship of any kind.”
“Really?” Skye raised a brow. “Did you have to take an oath in library school or something?”
“Nope.” Trixie got to her feet and walked toward the bake sale table. “It’s implied.” Once she finished cajoling an older gentleman into buying a pie, two plates of cookies, and a tin of fudge, she returned to her seat. “So, what’s the plan?”
“It’s your pledge. You figure out the plan.” Skye took the last sip of her Diet Coke and tossed the empty can toward the garbage container. “And while you’re at it, you’d better figure out a way to stop my cousin Hugo, too.”
“What’s he got against the bookstore?”
As Skye got up, retrieved the can from where it had landed on the ground, and deposited it in the trash, she explained about the parking situation, ending with, “Then he said, ‘My dad’s the mayor of Scumble River and my cousin here is engaged to the chief of police.’ ”
“You know I’m still mad at you about that, right?” Trixie narrowed her brown eyes. “How could you possibly not tell me that Wally proposed?”
Skye cringed. “I said I was sorry. It’s just that I wasn’t sure I was going to accept, and it seemed cruel to tell anyone if I ended up saying no.” Wally had popped the question last November, and Skye had apologized to Trixie a hundred times since announcing their engagement three months ago, but any mention of it rekindled her friend’s hurt feelings. “I was trying to save him from being embarrassed.”
“Are you saying I can’t keep a secret?” Trixie demanded.
“No.” Skye knew she had to tread carefully. “If I had confided in anyone, it would have been you.”
“I bet you told someone.” Trixie dug into her jeans pocket, pulled out a miniature Butterfinger, and stripped off the wrapper. “Did you tell Vince?”
“No. Considering his profession, there was no way I would have told him.” Skye’s brother owned the Great Expectations hair salon, and gossip was as much part of the service he offered as an excellent haircut. “I promise you, no one knew.”
“Including me,” Trixie muttered. “Everyone got to see your ring before me.”
“You were in Europe, and I called you the night I accepted,” Skye almost screamed in frustration. “You know, one of the things I’ve finally accepted is that no matter how good friends you are with someone, there will come a time when they hurt you, and either you keep losing friends or you learn to forgive them.”
“Fine.” Trixie drew out the word. “I’ll forgive you, but you have to tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.”
“I don’t have any secrets,” Skye protested.
“Everyone has secrets.”
“Okay.” Skye exhaled loudly. “A few months back I had to go to a lingerie shower for one of my second or third cousins. One of the games was that as the bride opened her gifts you had to write down your first impressions. Well, my cousin is extremely flat chested and someone got her a Wonderbra, so I wrote, ‘I wonder what she’s going to put into it.’”
“So, what’s the big deal about that?”
“When they read the slips out loud, the bride got hysterical and that pretty much ended the party. Luckily the comments were anonymous. If Mom knew it was me, she’d never let me hear the end of it.”
“Oh.” Trixie was well acquainted with the Wrath of May.
“Now”—Skye frowned—“can we get back to the current problem of how to stop Hugo and Pru from shutting down the bookstore?”
Trixie ran her hands through her short faun-colored hair. “I have an idea.”
“Okay,” Skye’s tone was cautious; Trixie was even more impulsive than she was. “What?”
“I’ll dig up something on Pru, and you take care of your cousin Hugo.”
“No.” Skye shook her head. “Mom will kill me if I do anything to upset the family.”
“You don’t have to upset them.” Trixie finished her candy bar and licked her fingers. “Just make sure Hugo moves his cars.”
“Right.” Skye sneered. “Because he always listens to me about stuff like that.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Trixie shrugged. “You’re good at that.”
A couple of hours later, when the last of the baked goods had been purchased and the Scoop staff had packed away the table, Trixie and Skye went into the pharmacy to thank the owner for letting them use the space in front of his store.
As they waited for Mr. Bates to finish filling a prescription, Trixie poked Skye in the shoulder. “You did too tell someone that Wally had proposed to you.”
“Shh!” Skye scowled at Trixie. Several customers had turned to look at them. “Not now.” Even though it was nearly impossible in a town of three thousand people, half of whom Skye was related to, she tried to keep her love life private.
Trixie ignored Skye’s command for silence. “You told Simon.”
“Shut up.” Skye resisted an urge to put her hand over Trixie’s mouth and instead dragged her behind a display of feminine products. “I thought you forgave me.”
“That was when I thought you hadn’t told anyone else.”
“As I explained to you, I only informed him before I accepted because of . . . Well, you know.” She was uncomfortable discussing Simon’s vow to win her back.
“Still.” Trixie sniffed. “You did tell someone.” A tear slid down her round cheek. “And it wasn’t me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Skye swallowed, touched by Trixie’s pain. “What else can I say?”
“You can say that you’ll help me save Tales and Treats.”
“Of course I will. I don’t want it to close any more than you do.” Skye hugged Trixie. “Pick me up at two for the grand opening.”
Skye was waiting on her front porch when Trixie’s car roared into the driveway. Skye checked to make sure the front door was locked, then walked down the steps and climbed into the passenger seat. A lot of people in Scumble River didn’t bother with deadbolts, but Skye had had a few too many close calls with deranged killers to leave her door open.
As Skye was buckling her seat belt, Trixie said, “I figured out how to find some dirt on Pru. I’ll use the Internet.”
“Really?” Skye asked, tucking her purse behind her legs. “How?”
“I’ll Google her.”
“Oh.” Skye had finally begun accepting that the computer was a viable tool, but she still wasn’t comfortable with some of its features, like search engines. “Every time I try to find information that way, I get a zillion hits and end up wasting more time than if I had just looked it up in a book.”
Trixie flung the Civic into gear and stepped on the gas. Her prized Mustang convertible was long gone, sold to pay off a debt, but she still drove as if she were racing on the NASCAR circuit. Skye gripped the dashboard as Trixie backed out of the driveway without even glancing in the rearview mirror.