For the past two Christmases, Tricia had confined her holiday decorations to Haven’t Got a Clue, but as she studied the various Dolly Dolittles in the catalog, she thought she might make an exception and grace her shelves with a couple of the figurines. Each of them was named. Would that make it easy for prospective buyers on eBay to Google each one, so that the seller didn’t need to put up a photograph in order to entice a willing customer?
“Were you able to find Deborah’s inventory for the missing Dolly Dolittles?”
Ginny frowned and shook her head. “Except for the empty boxes, there’s no way to prove they were ever part of the stock when the store was sold.
“That’s too bad.”
“I’m not going to worry about it. All I can do is move forward. There’s no point in looking back and wondering what might have been.”
“Sound reasoning,” Tricia agreed. She glanced at her watch. “I’d better let you get back to work.”
Ginny stood. “I know it’s only been three days, and it was kind of nerve-racking dealing with Elizabeth, the missing inventory, and the break-in, but other than that, it’s been a great couple of days. I already love this job.”
“So you won’t miss us over at Haven’t Got a Clue?”
“Of course I will. But . . . this is what I want to do now.”
Tricia smiled. “That’s exactly how I felt when I opened my shop, too. And believe it or not, it gets even better.”
Ginny positively grinned.
Tricia led the way to the shop entrance. “Well, have a good day.”
“You, too,” Ginny said, gave a quick wave, and shut and locked the door.
Tricia made her way back to Haven’t Got a Clue. If she was honest with herself, she felt a bit envious of Ginny. But something about what she’d seen in the catalog filled with Dolly Dolittle figurines stayed with her, and she wasn’t sure why.
Twenty-Three
The bell over the door rang and Tricia looked up to see Elizabeth Crane push Davey’s stroller through the shop door. After the tongue lashing she’d received two nights before, she wasn’t eager to talk to Deborah’s mother. But it was a contrite Elizabeth who walked up to the sales counter.
“Hello, Tricia.”
“Elizabeth.” That was as gracious a welcome as Tricia could muster under the circumstances.
Davey grabbed at the items in the glass display case, quickly frustrated that he couldn’t get his hands on the worn and fragile first editions Tricia kept under lock and key. Still, he left his sticky fingerprints all over the glass.
“I came here to apologize for my behavior the other night.”
Tricia said nothing. If Elizabeth was intent on apologizing, she was going to let her do it.
“I was pretty stiff and sore when I got out of the ER. All I wanted was a hot bath and a nice strong drink. And when I couldn’t find you to retrieve Davey . . . I may have let my temper get the better of me.”
She sure had. Still, Tricia wasn’t sure she wanted to let Elizabeth off the hook so easily. “I can understand that,” she said.
Davey grunted his displeasure, and Elizabeth pulled a picture book from the catch-all at the back of the stroller. He squealed with delight at what must have been the familiar sight of fire engines.
“The last few days have been a nightmare. I saw Bob Kelly this morning about putting my house up for sale. After what happened the other night, I don’t feel safe here in Stoneham anymore.”
“Then you don’t think it was an accident?” Tricia asked.
“I most certainly do not. That car came straight at me and Davey.”
“But why?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Who knows why crazy people do what they do.”
Crazy people. Like Cheryl Griffin? “So you didn’t see who was behind the wheel?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“What were you doing walking down Main Street at that time of day, anyway?”
“I’ve been going back to the village park. I feel close to Deborah in the place where she died. Or at least I wanted to believe I would feel close to her. But she’s not there. And for all I know, David dumped her remains in his garbage can. I must admit, I’ve thought about looking there. But their trash day was yesterday. If he disposed of her ashes that way, there’s no way I’ll ever find my baby’s final resting place.” A single tear cascaded down her cheek. She brushed it aside.
Davey pounded a picture of a Dalmatian with his chubby index finger. “Doggy, doggy!” he insisted.
“These past few days you’ve seen the worst of me,” Elizabeth continued, “and learned the worst of Deborah. I’m her mother. I know she was no saint, but she was my daughter and I loved her unconditionally. Isn’t that what a parent is supposed to do?”
“I always thought so,” Tricia said quietly. She didn’t want to think too hard on that statement. It was too painful a place for her to go.
Another tear leaked from Elizabeth’s eye and she dabbed at it with the knuckles of her right hand. Tricia reached under the counter and brought out the tissue box, which seemed to be getting quite a workout this week.
Elizabeth took one and blew her nose.
“Where will you go?” Tricia asked.
“Back to Long Island. I have friends there, and my other girls aren’t far away. Somehow Davey and I will build a new life.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “We’ve got no other choice.”
“Nana, Nana! Doggy,” Davey insisted with the joy that only a small child can experience.
There didn’t seem to be much else to say, so Tricia began with, “Good luck. If there’s anything else I can do for you before you go, please let me know.”
“I’ve already abused the friendship you had with Deborah.” She took a deep breath and looked toward the door. “I’d best be going. I’m heading to the liquor store in Milford to see if I can scrounge up some boxes. I may as well start packing today.” She grabbed the handles of the stroller and headed for the exit. She opened the door. “Wave good-bye to Tricia, Davey.”
Davey looked up from his book, raised his hand, and opened and closed it several times. “Bye-bye.”
Tricia waved back. “Good-bye, Davey.”
Elizabeth gave Tricia a parting smile and left the store.
Miss Marple appeared at Tricia’s elbow, giving her a loving head butt. “That was unexpected.”
Miss Marple said, “Yow!”
The bell tinkled again as the shop door opened, but instead of a customer it was Angelica.
“Good morning, good morning!” she chimed, sporting a jubilant grin. As usual, she was dressed in her waitress uniform, but she carried two cups from the Coffee Bean. Unfortunately, Tricia was feeling coffeed out.
“You seem unusually happy,” she said.
“I’m celebrating this morning. I’ve just come from the post office where I sent off my manuscript to my editor.”
“I thought you still had a few weeks.”
“When you’ve accomplished perfection, there’s no reason to hang on to it a second longer.”
“Perfection?” Tricia asked skeptically, accepting her cup.
“Of course, darling.”
“Post office? I thought most authors turned in their manuscripts electronically these days.”
“My contract says hard copy, and you know what a stickler I am for following the rules.”
Tricia laughed, glad she hadn’t had a mouthful of coffee when she heard that one. Snorting coffee was not a pleasant experience.
“Well, you’re not the only one with good news. Someone’s already claimed Elaine Capshaw’s dog,” Tricia said.
“Claimed him? I thought you were responsible for him.” Angelica said.
“So did I. But when I called to check up on him this morning, they said he’d been claimed. Probably by a neighbor. I never even got to ask Mr. Everett if he wanted a little doggy friend.”
Angelica shrugged. “It’s probably for the best.”
Tricia nodded. “More news. Elizabeth is leaving town and taking Davey with her.”
“I thought I saw her leaving your store. Well, you won’t see me shed a tear.”