me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. I felt heat rise to my face and quickly turned away. I grabbed an apron from the hook behind the kitchen door and tied it behind my neck.
“It’s true I’m not the best of cooks,” I said to Jenny. “My mother is still trying to get me to take lessons.” I opened the refrigerator and retrieved the container of ready-made Alfredo sauce I’d bought. “But as long as I know how to cook pasta, that’s all I need to know.”
I threw a discreet look at Matthew. He was no longer looking at me. He was at the kitchen table, struggling with the cork from a bottle of red wine. At last he pulled it out with a soft pop. “Who wants a glass of zinfandel?”
I pointed to the cabinet at the left of the sink. “The glasses are in there.” While Jenny set the glasses on the counter and Matthew filled them, I busied myself setting plates and cutlery.
“What beautiful dishes,” Jenny said, picking up one of the plates I’d just put down and admiring it.
“You’ve seen those before, haven’t you?” I asked. “They were part of Mrs. McLeay’s estate.” That was the houseful of furnishings I’d bought for a bargain.
“They’re beautiful, especially on this gorgeous linen tablecloth.”
“That set was part of the estate too. And so was this set of bone-handled cutlery. I still can’t believe all the wonderful treasures Mrs. McLeay kept hidden in those cupboards.”
Matthew picked up one of the knives. “I hope you have some sharper knives than this. It won’t cut anything harder than butter.” He set it back down.
“That might be because it
is
a butter knife,” I said.
He shrugged. “What do I know about table knives? The only ones I know well are weapons.”
Jenny shuddered. “Oh, God, will you please stop talking about weapons? Guns, knives, next you’ll be talking about hatchets and meat cleavers.” Even Marnie joined in the laughter.
Soon we were sitting around the dining room table, sipping wine and enjoying our dinner. Across from me, Marnie was batting her lashes madly—sending me a message to flirt. I chanced a look at Matthew. He was twirling pasta on his fork. I racked my brains for something flirtatious to say and came up blank. I gave Marnie a furious look. I hoped she got the message and stopped pushing.
Jenny reached for the bread basket. “What did you think of Whitby’s house?” she said as she buttered her roll. “Isn’t it spectacular?”
“I’ll say,” Marnie said, between bites of pasta.
I glanced up, relieved that she’d introduced a casual subject. “It’s so gorgeous I don’t quite know why Whitby hired a decorator.”
Marnie smiled knowingly. “I suspect the lady may have pushed her way into Whitby’s life. It looked to me like this designer has designs on more than just the house.”
“I noticed that too,” I said. “But after seeing the rooms she worked on, I have to admit, she knows what she’s doing.”
Jenny looked up from her plate. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
Marnie glanced at her. “I wonder if she’s after the man or his money.”
Jenny shrugged. “You said yourself that he probably dated all the women in the state. He doesn’t have to flash his money. He’s handsome enough. I’m sure he can get a woman with his charm alone.”
I put my fork down. “Jenny warned me that Bunny is trouble. She thinks I should turn down the contract if she offers it.”
Marnie’s eyes grew wide. “She did? You’d be crazy not to take her advice. When Jenny has a feeling, I, for one, take her seriously. As far as I know, she’s never been wrong.”
I put on my most serious face. “I’d be more inclined to take her advice if I didn’t need the business so much.”
The house phone rang. I excused myself and hurried to the extension in the kitchen. Winston plodded along, hoping for a treat. I opened the doggy cookie jar and threw him a dog biscuit. He dove in the air and caught it. I picked
“It’s true I’m not the best of cooks,” I said to Jenny. “My mother is still trying to get me to take lessons.” I opened the refrigerator and retrieved the container of ready-made Alfredo sauce I’d bought. “But as long as I know how to cook pasta, that’s all I need to know.”
I threw a discreet look at Matthew. He was no longer looking at me. He was at the kitchen table, struggling with the cork from a bottle of red wine. At last he pulled it out with a soft pop. “Who wants a glass of zinfandel?”
I pointed to the cabinet at the left of the sink. “The glasses are in there.” While Jenny set the glasses on the counter and Matthew filled them, I busied myself setting plates and cutlery.
“What beautiful dishes,” Jenny said, picking up one of the plates I’d just put down and admiring it.
“You’ve seen those before, haven’t you?” I asked. “They were part of Mrs. McLeay’s estate.” That was the houseful of furnishings I’d bought for a bargain.
“They’re beautiful, especially on this gorgeous linen tablecloth.”
“That set was part of the estate too. And so was this set of bone-handled cutlery. I still can’t believe all the wonderful treasures Mrs. McLeay kept hidden in those cupboards.”
Matthew picked up one of the knives. “I hope you have some sharper knives than this. It won’t cut anything harder than butter.” He set it back down.
“That might be because it
is
a butter knife,” I said.
He shrugged. “What do I know about table knives? The only ones I know well are weapons.”
Jenny shuddered. “Oh, God, will you please stop talking about weapons? Guns, knives, next you’ll be talking about hatchets and meat cleavers.” Even Marnie joined in the laughter.
Soon we were sitting around the dining room table, sipping wine and enjoying our dinner. Across from me, Marnie was batting her lashes madly—sending me a message to flirt. I chanced a look at Matthew. He was twirling pasta on his fork. I racked my brains for something flirtatious to say and came up blank. I gave Marnie a furious look. I hoped she got the message and stopped pushing.
Jenny reached for the bread basket. “What did you think of Whitby’s house?” she said as she buttered her roll. “Isn’t it spectacular?”
“I’ll say,” Marnie said, between bites of pasta.
I glanced up, relieved that she’d introduced a casual subject. “It’s so gorgeous I don’t quite know why Whitby hired a decorator.”
Marnie smiled knowingly. “I suspect the lady may have pushed her way into Whitby’s life. It looked to me like this designer has designs on more than just the house.”
“I noticed that too,” I said. “But after seeing the rooms she worked on, I have to admit, she knows what she’s doing.”
Jenny looked up from her plate. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
Marnie glanced at her. “I wonder if she’s after the man or his money.”
Jenny shrugged. “You said yourself that he probably dated all the women in the state. He doesn’t have to flash his money. He’s handsome enough. I’m sure he can get a woman with his charm alone.”
I put my fork down. “Jenny warned me that Bunny is trouble. She thinks I should turn down the contract if she offers it.”
Marnie’s eyes grew wide. “She did? You’d be crazy not to take her advice. When Jenny has a feeling, I, for one, take her seriously. As far as I know, she’s never been wrong.”
I put on my most serious face. “I’d be more inclined to take her advice if I didn’t need the business so much.”
The house phone rang. I excused myself and hurried to the extension in the kitchen. Winston plodded along, hoping for a treat. I opened the doggy cookie jar and threw him a dog biscuit. He dove in the air and caught it. I picked
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