“With your mind, but not your heart.”
“Nikki said just about the same thing not ten minutes ago.”
“She’s a sharp lady.” Angelica got up from the counter and topped up their coffee cups. Then she reached into the bakery bag and extracted the cupcakes. She set one in front of Tricia and removed the paper from the outside of her own. “Carpe diem,” she said, raised her cupcake in salute, and then took a bite. Loose coconut shards rained onto the counter and a smear of white icing clung to her lip. “Damn, that tastes good.”
Tricia pushed her nearly finished tuna plate aside and picked up her cupcake, removing its paper and holding it aloft, too. “One thing in life is certain. There will always be cupcakes.”
“Amen,” Angelica said, and took another bite.
Eighteen
Considering how boring the day had been, Tricia was looking forward to a quiet evening with a glass of wine, a good book, and Miss Marple’s company. But as she went to turn the deadbolt on the shop door, she heard the muffled roar of an engine zooming up Main Street, the screech of brakes, and a scream. She yanked at the lock and wrenched the door open in time to see the taillights of the car heading north and what looked like a pile of clothes and a stroller on the sidewalk. A child screamed, and Tricia recognized the stroller. Could the pile of clothes be—?
“Elizabeth!” she nearly screamed, and ran toward the huddled mass on the sidewalk. She ran up the sidewalk, as other shop doors along the street also began to pop open.
“What happened?” Frannie called.
“Call 9-1-1!” Tricia hollered as she approached Elizabeth, who wasn’t moving. She crouched beside her, noting her scraped cheek where her face had done more than just kiss the sidewalk. Davey continued to scream, but the stroller looked intact and he didn’t appear to be hurt—just terrified.
“Elizabeth?” Tricia called, afraid there would be no answer. She was still breathing, which was a hopeful sign, and there was no sign of blood. Still, she could be badly hurt with internal injuries. Tricia decided not to touch her—just in case.
“Is she alive?” Tricia looked up into Nikki’s worried face.
“So far. What’s taking the rescue squad so long to get here? They’re only up the street.”
True to her words, she heard the sound of a siren and looked up to see the fire truck approach. It rolled to a halt, and in seconds the EMTs spilled from the cab.
“What happened?” one of them asked, crouching down to touch Elizabeth’s neck, checking for a pulse.
“I heard the roar of a car, a squeal of brakes, and a scream.”
“Did you see the car’s make?” the second EMT asked. Tricia shook her head. “It all happened so fast—I’m not even sure I could tell you the color.” She stood, backing away to allow the men to do their work.
“Do you think she’s going to—” Frannie didn’t seem able to finish the sentence.
“Did someone deliberately try to run Elizabeth down?” Nikki asked.
“Hey, what happened?” Russ called from across the street, as he emerged from the Stoneham Weekly News with his Nikon slung around his neck. With no traffic in sight, he bounded across the road without even looking to the left or right. He stepped onto the curb and exchanged a worried glance with Nikki. For a moment, Tricia thought they might grab one another, kiss passionately, and then cling to each other, but then they both looked down at Elizabeth with concern. Russ showed great restraint by not photographing her at her worst.
Soon Elizabeth began to stir. Her first thoughts were of Davey, still strapped in his stroller. He’d ceased crying and now whimpered, arms outstretched, trying to reach his nana.
“Davey, Davey,” Elizabeth called, which seemed to upset the boy even more.
“He’s okay,” the EMT assured her. “But you’re going to the hospital to get checked out.”
“Who’ll take care of Davey?” Elizabeth wailed, her eyes wild with fright. “I’m all he’s got!”
“We’ll find someone,” the second EMT said as he fastened a cervical collar around her neck.
Elizabeth’s gaze roamed all the faces towering above her and finally focused on Tricia. “Tricia, you were Deborah’s best friend here in Stoneham. Will you take care of Davey for me?”
“I . . . I . . .” was all she could get out as the EMTs rolled Elizabeth onto a backboard. She howled in pain.
The EMTs soon transferred her to a gurney and hustled her to the back of their ambulance.
“That poor woman,” Nikki murmured. “First she lost her daughter, then the shop, and now this.”
Someone—Russ?—pushed the stroller in front of Tricia. No one else seemed interested in taking charge of the toddler, and already the sidewalk seemed to be clearing. Tricia looked down at the whining child, wondering what she’d do with him. Had he had dinner? Was he potty-trained? The paramedics had grabbed Elizabeth’s purse, but there didn’t seem to be a diaper bag anywhere in sight. What had Elizabeth been doing walking down Main Street after business hours? Nothing was open. Shouldn’t she have been at home getting Davey ready for bed?
Tricia glanced around and saw that Angelica had emerged from the Cookery and was conversing with Frannie, who nodded and stepped back inside. Angelica advanced on Tricia, who felt rather shell-shocked. What on earth was she supposed to do with a not-quite-two-year-old boy?
“Why would Elizabeth pick you to take care of the kid?” Angelica asked. “You never even earned your Girl Scout child care badge. Have you ever babysat in your entire life?”
“No,” Tricia said, desperate to keep from panicking.
If nothing else, Angelica was quick on her feet. “Didn’t Deborah have a playpen for Davey over at the Happy Domestic? Maybe it’ll still be there.”
Ginny had not been drawn to the accident scene. Could she still be at the store?
As the ambulance pulled away from the curb, Tricia pushed the stroller across the street, with Angelica following behind. They paused outside the darkened storefront. Still, they could see a light burning in the back of the shop.
Angelica pounded on the door.
“Maybe Ginny went home and just forgot to turn off the lights,” Tricia said.
Angelica kept hammering on the door until Tricia was sure she’d rattle the glass loose.
“Stop, stop! You’ll break something,” Tricia said, but instead a silhouette appeared in the doorway that led to the store’s back room. It paused for what seemed a long time before darting forward.
Ginny fumbled to open the door. “We’re closed!”
“We’re not here to shop,” Angelica said, and barged in, holding the door open for Tricia to come inside. “Is there still a playpen or crib in the back room?”
“Yes, but—” Ginny protested, but Angelica was like a steamroller and barreled forward, and Tricia followed without protest.
Angelica had a better memory than Tricia. The back room contained not only a small, colorful rectangular mesh and plastic playpen that could double as a crib, but a changing table, toy box, and a large package of disposable diapers—everything needed to take care of Davey for the next few hours until they could figure out something else.
“You can’t be here,” Ginny protested. “I’ve got tons of work to do and no time to mess around with a baby.” She seemed to shake herself. “And what are you doing with Davey Black, anyway?”
“Elizabeth was hit by a car a few minutes ago. They’ve taken her to St. Joseph Hospital to get checked out. She wanted me—of all people—to take care of Davey.”
“Whoa, she must have been desperate,” Ginny blurted, and then seemed to realize she’d just insulted her boss. Oops—former boss, Tricia reminded herself.
“What else are we going to do with him?” Angelica asked. “We’re not prepared to take care of a small child. Everything we need is here.”
Davey seemed to sense the tension building and started to cry once again. Ginny, too, appeared on the verge of tears.