abdomen.
“Well, I’ll have to brainstorm. We definitely need them by tomorrow, but I need to see what I can find to transport them.” She snapped her phone shut.
“That sounded bad,” Rob said.
“Forty thousand tissue dogwood flowers and their van is broken. They can’t deliver!”
“I hate to ask the obvious here, but why do you need dogwood flowers? And if you do, why couldn’t they just hold the pageant when the dogwoods are in bloom?”
Cam rolled her eyes. She’d asked Evangeline Patrick the same thing, but she wouldn’t admit that to Rob. “The local pageants are held in spring, almost all when the dogwoods are in bloom. The teen class is Miss Dogwood—the state flower—and the theme unites all the pageants. But the state pageant is a week long and the local winners all need time to prepare, so they hold it in the summer.”
“I see,” he said. He looked skeptical.
“Where are we going to get a van?” Cam asked.
“You ask Petunia?”
“Yeah, that’ll go over well.” Cam knew her sister had already had her quota of Evangeline Patrick for the day. It didn’t help that the word “pageant” also riled Petunia. Petunia hated any system that dubbed any person superior to others. “I’ll call Nick,” Cam said, fearing a bad pattern had been set. “You go back inside and get Annie.”
* * *
C am pressed “N” and Nick’s number popped up.
“Yeh?” Nick answered. It was typical. He wasn’t one for niceties or . . . words, really. But he had a heart of gold and treated her sister like a gem—something not easy, in Cam’s opinion. Petunia was definitely prickly. Cam thought Nick probably deserved sainthood.
“Nick? Can you talk?” She hoped Petunia wasn’t right there.
“Yeah?” Nick said.
Cam waited, but that was all he said.
“Is there a good time in the next fourteen hours for me to borrow the catering van for . . . maybe three hours?”
“One to four A.M. ?”
“Preferably not, but I’m desperate enough.” She hoped he was joking.
“Last catering job is done at ten. You help me clean it up, it’s yours until nine in the morning.”
“Deal! Thanks, Nick!” Cam hung up just as Rob reappeared with Annie.
“You’re a chicken,” Annie said.
“What?” Cam turned to look at Annie.
“You knew Petunia wouldn’t help because it’s for Evangeline,” Annie said.
“Which doesn’t make me a chicken. It makes me smart. So are you in?”
“Transport off-season tissue dogwood flowers? Do I have to?” Annie looked to Rob, who was chuckling.
“Yes,” Cam said.
“Can I complain on my blog?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Cam wasn’t sure whether Annie had a blog or not, she’d never mentioned it before if she did, but there was no reason to tempt it. “At least not until this whole pageant is done,” she amended. The artist in Annie might rebel if Cam came across too strong.
“Usual gang?” Rob asked.
“Something happened this afternoon. A body was found on the side of the Arts Commission.”
Rob stared at her for a moment. “Body?”
“Not just a body. One of our judges. Telly Stevens. Jake was here looking to see if there was foul play.”
“I’m going to get scooped,” Rob accused. “You could have told me.”
“They don’t know if it’s foul play or not,” Cam said.
“I’m only helping if Jake will meet us after and get me up to date,” Rob said.
“He’d probably be happy for the break,” Annie said, taking out her phone.
* * *
T he three of them beat the van to Spoons. They joked in an alley behind the restaurant as they waited. Annie made outrageous dares, but neither Cam nor Rob took her up on them. Finally, the Spoons van pulled in.
Petunia jumped out as soon as it stopped. “What’s this?”
“Hi, Tunia. Nick said if we helped clean it, we could borrow the van for the night,” Cam said.
Petunia, all arms and legs, rounded on her husband, who probably had ninety pounds on her. She hit him
“Well, I’ll have to brainstorm. We definitely need them by tomorrow, but I need to see what I can find to transport them.” She snapped her phone shut.
“That sounded bad,” Rob said.
“Forty thousand tissue dogwood flowers and their van is broken. They can’t deliver!”
“I hate to ask the obvious here, but why do you need dogwood flowers? And if you do, why couldn’t they just hold the pageant when the dogwoods are in bloom?”
Cam rolled her eyes. She’d asked Evangeline Patrick the same thing, but she wouldn’t admit that to Rob. “The local pageants are held in spring, almost all when the dogwoods are in bloom. The teen class is Miss Dogwood—the state flower—and the theme unites all the pageants. But the state pageant is a week long and the local winners all need time to prepare, so they hold it in the summer.”
“I see,” he said. He looked skeptical.
“Where are we going to get a van?” Cam asked.
“You ask Petunia?”
“Yeah, that’ll go over well.” Cam knew her sister had already had her quota of Evangeline Patrick for the day. It didn’t help that the word “pageant” also riled Petunia. Petunia hated any system that dubbed any person superior to others. “I’ll call Nick,” Cam said, fearing a bad pattern had been set. “You go back inside and get Annie.”
* * *
C am pressed “N” and Nick’s number popped up.
“Yeh?” Nick answered. It was typical. He wasn’t one for niceties or . . . words, really. But he had a heart of gold and treated her sister like a gem—something not easy, in Cam’s opinion. Petunia was definitely prickly. Cam thought Nick probably deserved sainthood.
“Nick? Can you talk?” She hoped Petunia wasn’t right there.
“Yeah?” Nick said.
Cam waited, but that was all he said.
“Is there a good time in the next fourteen hours for me to borrow the catering van for . . . maybe three hours?”
“One to four A.M. ?”
“Preferably not, but I’m desperate enough.” She hoped he was joking.
“Last catering job is done at ten. You help me clean it up, it’s yours until nine in the morning.”
“Deal! Thanks, Nick!” Cam hung up just as Rob reappeared with Annie.
“You’re a chicken,” Annie said.
“What?” Cam turned to look at Annie.
“You knew Petunia wouldn’t help because it’s for Evangeline,” Annie said.
“Which doesn’t make me a chicken. It makes me smart. So are you in?”
“Transport off-season tissue dogwood flowers? Do I have to?” Annie looked to Rob, who was chuckling.
“Yes,” Cam said.
“Can I complain on my blog?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Cam wasn’t sure whether Annie had a blog or not, she’d never mentioned it before if she did, but there was no reason to tempt it. “At least not until this whole pageant is done,” she amended. The artist in Annie might rebel if Cam came across too strong.
“Usual gang?” Rob asked.
“Something happened this afternoon. A body was found on the side of the Arts Commission.”
Rob stared at her for a moment. “Body?”
“Not just a body. One of our judges. Telly Stevens. Jake was here looking to see if there was foul play.”
“I’m going to get scooped,” Rob accused. “You could have told me.”
“They don’t know if it’s foul play or not,” Cam said.
“I’m only helping if Jake will meet us after and get me up to date,” Rob said.
“He’d probably be happy for the break,” Annie said, taking out her phone.
* * *
T he three of them beat the van to Spoons. They joked in an alley behind the restaurant as they waited. Annie made outrageous dares, but neither Cam nor Rob took her up on them. Finally, the Spoons van pulled in.
Petunia jumped out as soon as it stopped. “What’s this?”
“Hi, Tunia. Nick said if we helped clean it, we could borrow the van for the night,” Cam said.
Petunia, all arms and legs, rounded on her husband, who probably had ninety pounds on her. She hit him
Similar Books
