Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) by Nancy J. Parra Page A

a present,” I said then clamped my hand over my mouth when my father glared at me.
    “Frank, you didn’t.” Mom’s green eyes twinkled.
    “He did,” I said and then bit my lip as my dad narrowed his gaze at me.
    Mom came around the table. “You bought me a present?”
    “It can wait.” Dad blushed. Like me, he could never hide a blush. His ears turned bright pink whenever he was embarrassed or put on the spot. Even though his hair was completely white, he still had the skin of a redhead. It showed emotions like the colors of an octopus.
    “It most certainly cannot.” Mom held out her hand. “Give it to me . . . please.”
    “Fine.” Dad pulled a long box out of his pocket. “Think of it as a mother-of-the-bride gift.”
    Mom opened the box and took out a silver charm bracelet. There were three starter beads on it. One was a piano. Mom was a part-time piano teacher and spent her Saturdays teaching students at one of two pianos in the music room. The music room was actually our basement, which Dad had finished on his own. He’d put in a drop ceiling and painted the cinder block walls. A Berber carpet and two upright pianos had given Mom the space she needed to teach her lessons without impinging on his football games.
    The second bead was a silver bride, and the third charm was . . . “Is that a cuckoo bird?” I had to ask because I hoped for something better to represent me.
    “What a cute cuckoo bird it is, too.” Mom brushed a kiss on Dad’s lips. “You’ll get your reward later, even if it isn’t an anniversary.”
    Dad grinned.
    Mom might be described as curvy, but Dad didn’t seem to mind the extra bits of her. She was the shortest in the family at five feet two inches tall. She wore a size fourteen and tended to be a progressive dresser. Today she had on a pair of dark slacks and a light green sweater set that played up the color in her eyes. She kept her hair dyed a dark brown and cut short so that it curled like a pixie around her face.
    “Pepper, help me with this clasp, will you, honey?” She held out her wrist and I clasped the charm bracelet. “What do you think?”
    “It’s lovely,” I said. “But I’m still not certain what the cuckoo bird represents.”
    “Oh, probably the passing of time, dear.” Mom went back to folding napkins as if I wouldn’t know she was lying. “Put the crystal champagne glasses out,” she said. “It’s not every day we get to have champagne.”
    Mom had pink-toned Irish crystal champagne glasses that I’d only seen her use a handful of times. The last time was on my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary.
    I pulled the glasses out of the china cabinet and wiped them off with a soft cloth before I placed them on the table.
    “There, isn’t the table lovely?” Mom asked, admiring our handiwork.
    “I do know how to set a table,” I said and put my hands on my hips. “It was part of event planning 101.”
    “I know, dear.” Mom patted my arm as she moved to the kitchen. “It’s nice to see you use your degree.”
    “I use my degree a lot.” I followed her into the kitchen.
    She grabbed kitchen mitts decorated with red and green roosters and opened the oven to check the roast. The rich scent of roasted meat and onion filled the air. “I’m sure you do. Now if only you found a way to get paid for it.”
    I sat down at the small kitchen table. It was mid-century modern with a red Formica top with chrome trim and legs. The chairs were silver pipe with red vinyl cushions. I think the set had been my grandma’s and she had given it to my parents when they first got married. I could admire the style in the piece. It fit perfectly in mom’s tiny kitchen, tucked under the window.
    The rest of the kitchen was straight out of the sixties with tall maple cabinets and white Formica countertops trimmed in stainless steel. The sink was deep and had been installed by the previous owner. To give you an idea of the age of the décor, my parents