“Oh. With Pixie gone, I thought you might decide to spend some time with Grace at the charitable foundation.”
Mr. Everett’s smile evaporated, and he shook his head. “When I owned my own store I discouraged family members from working together. It made for added tension, which wasn’t good for employee morale-or the morale of the related employees, either.”
“But surely she needs someone right away to keep the work from piling up.”
“I’m afraid she needs more than just a receptionist. She should have hired someone with far more experience who can take a greater role in helping her run the foundation.” And with that, his gaze shifted to Linda, who stared fixedly at the floor.
I will not offer up Linda-I won’t. I need her, Tricia thought, and instantly felt guilty.
Linda said nothing.
“I’d better hang up my coat,” Tricia said.
“And I should get mine,” Mr. Everett said, and rose from his chair.
Tricia waved him to stay put. “I’ll get it.” As she walked to the back of the store, she could feel both pairs of eyes on her. Rats! She’d taken a chance hiring Linda, and although it had been only a couple of days, she seemed to fit in well so far. The idea of going through the whole interview process again did more than depress Tricia.
She returned to the readers’ nook with Mr. Everett’s coat. “I guess we’ll see you on Saturday, then.”
“That you will,” he said as he slid his arms into the sleeves. They watched in silence as he zippered the coat. “Good night, ladies,” he said, and headed for the door. He paused, then looked over to where Miss Marple lay on her perch behind the register. “And good night to you, too, Miss Marple.”
Miss Marple gave a languid “Yow!”
After the door had closed behind him, Tricia tried not to look at her new assistant manager. The quiet was nerve racking.
The shrill sound of the telephone was just the distraction Tricia was looking for, and she hurried to answer it. “Haven’t Got a Clue. This is Tricia. How may I-”
“Oh, Tricia! The best thing in the world has happened,” came Angelica’s voice through the receiver. “You’ll never guess-you’ll never guess.”
“No, I won’t-so tell me!”
“I just got a call from my editor. Thanks to that YouTube video, there’s been a tremendous interest in my book. Sales for Easy-Does-It Cooking have skyrocketed. The publisher has ordered a ten-thousand-copy reprint. With those kind of numbers, there’s a chance it could hit the New York Times best sellers list!”
Tricia doubted that, but she chose to sound enthusiastic. “That’s terrific.” And perfect timing, too. If Angelica was in a good mood, she might be more receptive to helping Tricia get into Bob Kelly’s office to check the pockets of his suit coat.
“I’m going to celebrate tonight with champagne and lobster,” Angelica gushed. “I’d love it if you’d join me.”
“I’d be very happy to. Can I bring anything?”
“Just a smile and the will to celebrate.”
“Sounds like heaven. I’ll be over after I close the store and feed Miss Marple.”
“Great. See you then!”
Tricia hung up the phone and looked up to see Linda tidying the beverage station, her expression somber. She could tell the last hour of business was going to be awkward.
Why couldn’t Pixie have just apologized to her instead of exploding in a rage and quitting her job? Why did Linda just happen to have a degree and experience in the field of nonprofit organizations just when Grace needed such an employee to work at the Everett Charitable Foundation?
And why couldn’t Tricia ever get a break?
TWENTY-THREE
Angelica wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to celebrate. As Tricia made her way up the stairs to Angelica’s loft, she could smell the heavenly aroma of roasting garlic. She hung up her jacket and headed down the hall that led to Angelica’s kitchen and found the table set with candles, Angelica’s good china, sterling silverware, and Waterford crystal. A silver champagne bucket was filled with ice with a bottle just waiting for its cork to pop. Earlier in the day Tricia had felt overdressed. Now she felt underdressed.
“Everything looks lovely, Ange.”
“When I’m in the mood to celebrate, I celebrate.”
The phone rang.
“Dinner won’t be ready for another twenty minutes. Would you like a glass of Chardonnay before we open the good stuff?” Angelica asked.
The phone rang again.
“Why not?” Tricia said, and she reached for the cabinet that held the everyday glassware.
The phone kept ringing.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Tricia asked.
“No! It’s probably Bob. He’s been leaving messages on my landline, my cell, and at the store and café all day long,” Angelica said, and pulled out a wooden cutting board. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
That didn’t bode well for the success of Tricia’s admittedly harebrained plan.
Finally the ringing stopped.
Tricia poured the wine and handed Angelica a glass. “I’ve been waiting all day for this,” she said, taking a sip. She pouted before speaking again. “Seems like there’s trouble all over Stoneham.”
Tricia recognized trouble, too-in the tone of her sister’s voice. She had something to say that Tricia knew she wasn’t going to like.
“Didn’t you say Grace’s receptionist was named Pixie?”
Tricia nodded warily.
“I had a long conversation with a customer who said her name was Pixie. A hard-looking woman with orange hair.”
“That’s Pixie the horrible,” Tricia said, and sipped her wine. She had a feeling she should have poured herself something stronger.
“She had more than a few rough edges, but I wouldn’t say horrible,” Angelica said.
Tricia decided not to comment on that last remark.
“She came in to Booked for Lunch and sat at the counter. Bev was on a break so I served her. She ordered a double chocolate milkshake to drown her sorrows.”
“Oh, was she actually sorrowful?” Tricia asked.
“She said she’d just quit her job and that she’d be in trouble with her parole officer because of it.”
“I can’t say I’d shed any tears if Pixie was tossed back in the clink.”
“I don’t suppose you would. But I’ll bet you didn’t know that she’s a walking encyclopedia of trivia-and one of her specialties is vintage mysteries.”
Tricia gave her sister a sour look. “I’ll bet.”
“No, honestly. I tested her with a few questions. She really does seem to know her stuff. Apparently she had a lot of time to read during her stretch in the State Prison for Women. It seems the books in their library are kind of old.”
“And why am I supposed to care?” Tricia asked.
Angelica shrugged. “I was thinking…wouldn’t it make a lot more sense for Linda to work for Grace and Pixie to work for you?”
Tricia’s eyes bugged. “You’ve got to be kidding! I wouldn’t even let that woman walk through the door of Haven’t Got a Clue, let alone work there. And did I not tell you she called me a bitch?”
“She was a little upset,” Angelica said.
Tricia scowled. “Why have you taken on this woman’s cause?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’d just hate for her to have to go back to jail. I mean, how much work is there for an overage hooker here in Stoneham?”
“None at all, I should hope.”
“And let’s face it, Linda is way overqualified to be selling books. Didn’t you say she worked at a nonprofit agency? Grace is running a nonprofit. Don’t you think it would be a much better fit for her, too? You wanted Ginny to get ahead in her business career. Why not Linda?”