listen to me. Nothing unusual there.”
“I was wondering if Michael might have had a partner in the embezzlement scheme.”
“And you think that person double-crossed him and killed him?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibilities, that’s for sure. What bothers me is that he was put under the pool. That’s a little too close to home. And speaking of home, how is it there? How’s Bonnie been?”
“Well, she’s still leaving for her spa retreat as planned. No surprise there. Considering she planned a trip for the day after Uncle Marty’s funeral, I don’t think anyone expected that a little thing like Michael’s body being discovered on the old property would deter her from her trip.”
“Yes, well, her going might not be a surprise, but it still makes me want to smash my forehead on the table. Or better yet, smash her forehead on the table,” said Aunt Winnie. “How’s Ann holding up?”
“Pretty well. You know Ann. She’s the kind of person the rest of us want to be when we grow up. She’s had so much dumped on her and yet she still manages to keep it all together.”
“Still, I’m glad that you can be there to help her. I imagine she’s going to need all the help she can get over the next few days.”
“I’m happy to stay here and do whatever I can,” I said with what I hoped was the proper measure of humbleness.
Of course, Aunt Winnie saw right through that . “Oh, please,” she said with a snort. “I know you want to help Ann, but let’s be honest! You jumped at the excuse not to have to stay with Kit!”
“Well, I don’t know about ‘jumped’…” I began.
“Skipped, bounced, hopped. Whatever verb you prefer, you did it. I know it and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, if you had to deal with Kit, Pauly, and the Jungle Room, you’d have done it, too,” I muttered defensively.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong! I’m not judging you—far from it. Just be aware that Kit probably knows it, too. Be nice. You know how she can get.”
“Better than anyone,” I said. “But you’re right. I’ll try to be nice.”
“Good girl.”
We talked a little more, and I hung up after promising to keep her posted on the case. Curling up onto my side, I thought about what Aunt Winnie had said about Kit. I made a sleepy resolution to be nicer.
Sleepy resolutions, I’ve found, are always the easiest.
* * *
Although I awoke as I had for the last few weeks—to the tinny clanging of my cell phone’s alarm, this morning there was a marked difference. Gone was the sensation that I was in the middle of some safari gone terribly wrong. No monkeys swung above me, no elephants sat before me, no hippos peered out at me. And the ceiling! It was a glorious, crisp, sensible white; nary a blue-black tongue in sight.
Really, it’s the little things in life that give you the most joy.
I rolled over and languidly stretched in the queen-size bed. I was in Uncle Marty’s guest bedroom: a bright, airy room that faced the back of the house. I walked to the window and pulled back the white linen drape. It was another perfect autumnal day. Azure skies, crisp leaves, and cool air greeted me. All that was missing to make it perfect was Peter. And a cup of hot coffee.
I couldn’t have Peter, but at least I could have the coffee. Throwing on my robe and favorite (and only) well-worn bunny slippers, I headed down to the kitchen to start the coffee. Halfway down the stairs, I was greeted by the rich aroma of a pot already brewing. In the kitchen, I found Ann, up, showered, and busily bustling around. Scarlett was up as well and happily eating from her bowl. Actually, I should say she was happily eating from her Waterford bowl. I guess if my day started with breakfast out of a Waterford dish, I’d be happy, too.
“Morning!” Ann said. “Coffee’s ready. I know you’re not a morning person. Can I speak, or do I have to wait until you’ve had a cup?”
“I was wondering if Michael might have had a partner in the embezzlement scheme.”
“And you think that person double-crossed him and killed him?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibilities, that’s for sure. What bothers me is that he was put under the pool. That’s a little too close to home. And speaking of home, how is it there? How’s Bonnie been?”
“Well, she’s still leaving for her spa retreat as planned. No surprise there. Considering she planned a trip for the day after Uncle Marty’s funeral, I don’t think anyone expected that a little thing like Michael’s body being discovered on the old property would deter her from her trip.”
“Yes, well, her going might not be a surprise, but it still makes me want to smash my forehead on the table. Or better yet, smash her forehead on the table,” said Aunt Winnie. “How’s Ann holding up?”
“Pretty well. You know Ann. She’s the kind of person the rest of us want to be when we grow up. She’s had so much dumped on her and yet she still manages to keep it all together.”
“Still, I’m glad that you can be there to help her. I imagine she’s going to need all the help she can get over the next few days.”
“I’m happy to stay here and do whatever I can,” I said with what I hoped was the proper measure of humbleness.
Of course, Aunt Winnie saw right through that . “Oh, please,” she said with a snort. “I know you want to help Ann, but let’s be honest! You jumped at the excuse not to have to stay with Kit!”
“Well, I don’t know about ‘jumped’…” I began.
“Skipped, bounced, hopped. Whatever verb you prefer, you did it. I know it and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, if you had to deal with Kit, Pauly, and the Jungle Room, you’d have done it, too,” I muttered defensively.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong! I’m not judging you—far from it. Just be aware that Kit probably knows it, too. Be nice. You know how she can get.”
“Better than anyone,” I said. “But you’re right. I’ll try to be nice.”
“Good girl.”
We talked a little more, and I hung up after promising to keep her posted on the case. Curling up onto my side, I thought about what Aunt Winnie had said about Kit. I made a sleepy resolution to be nicer.
Sleepy resolutions, I’ve found, are always the easiest.
* * *
Although I awoke as I had for the last few weeks—to the tinny clanging of my cell phone’s alarm, this morning there was a marked difference. Gone was the sensation that I was in the middle of some safari gone terribly wrong. No monkeys swung above me, no elephants sat before me, no hippos peered out at me. And the ceiling! It was a glorious, crisp, sensible white; nary a blue-black tongue in sight.
Really, it’s the little things in life that give you the most joy.
I rolled over and languidly stretched in the queen-size bed. I was in Uncle Marty’s guest bedroom: a bright, airy room that faced the back of the house. I walked to the window and pulled back the white linen drape. It was another perfect autumnal day. Azure skies, crisp leaves, and cool air greeted me. All that was missing to make it perfect was Peter. And a cup of hot coffee.
I couldn’t have Peter, but at least I could have the coffee. Throwing on my robe and favorite (and only) well-worn bunny slippers, I headed down to the kitchen to start the coffee. Halfway down the stairs, I was greeted by the rich aroma of a pot already brewing. In the kitchen, I found Ann, up, showered, and busily bustling around. Scarlett was up as well and happily eating from her bowl. Actually, I should say she was happily eating from her Waterford bowl. I guess if my day started with breakfast out of a Waterford dish, I’d be happy, too.
“Morning!” Ann said. “Coffee’s ready. I know you’re not a morning person. Can I speak, or do I have to wait until you’ve had a cup?”
Similar Books
