it’s a fact.” Priscilla put down her fork and swiveled in her chair to face Emma. “I’ve read studies that show the spouse is usually the culprit when someone has been murdered.” She waved a hand. “I forget the percentage but it’s quite high.” She picked up her fork again and pointed it at Emma and then at Arabella. “So what do you know about the wife of this Hugh Granger?”
Emma and Arabella shrugged in unison.
“Almost nothing,” Emma answered.
“Very little,” Arabella said at almost the same time.
“Her name is Mariel,” Arabella said. “She looks to be a good twenty years younger than Hugh. They’ve been married quite a while—their son, Jackson, is in his early twenties.”
“Well,” Priscilla said in a very chipper tone of voice. “We’ll just have to get some more information on her then.” She looked from Emma to Arabella and back again. “It will be fun.”
Arabella rolled her eyes as she picked up the empty dishes and stacked them on the counter. “Why don’t you two go on into the living room. We can have our pie and coffee in there.”
Priscilla put her napkin on the table and stood up. Emma followed suit and walked with her mother down the hallway to the living room.
Priscilla settled herself in an armless chair, back straight, knees together and legs tucked to the side. Emma sat on the couch and tucked one leg underneath her, causing her mother’s eyebrows to draw together slightly and her lips to pucker almost imperceptibly.
“Now that I’m here,” Priscilla said, “I’d love to know what your plans are.”
“Plans?”
“Yes. For the future. You can’t leave things to chance.”
Emma stared at her mother blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you can’t stay here running Arabella’s dusty old lingerie shop forever.”
Emma’s lips tightened. “It’s not dusty. We’ve redone the whole shop. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
“But there’s nothing
here
for you. I was lucky that my career allowed me to advance at the hospital, and of course your father had his law practice. But I can’t imagine what kind of career you could forge in such a small town.”
Emma thought of Brian but bit her lip.
Before Priscilla could say anything more, Arabella came back into the room with the chess pie and a stack of plates. Emma breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, chess pie,” Priscilla exclaimed. “Arabella, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Arabella looked slightly mollified as she passed around plates.
“You know,” Emma said suddenly, “I talked to Liz.” She turned to Priscilla, “You remember Liz O’Connell, don’t you? She’s Liz Banning now.”
Priscilla nodded. “You two were inseparable. How is Liz?”
“She’s fine. She has a boy and a girl—Alice and Ben.”
“Yes, I remember you were asked to be the little girl’s godmother, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “But get this, before he died, Hugh Granger hired her to design a web site for his art business.”
“That’s wonderful,” Priscilla declared. “You’ll have someone right on the spot, so to speak.”
“She’s not sure what the status of the project is now that he’s dead. We’re hoping the son will want to continue with the web site.”
“Let’s hope he does. It will give Liz a chance to keep her ear to the ground.” Priscilla rubbed her hands together. “We can’t let that detective continue thinking that your aunt is a murderess.”
• • •
EMMA lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Her mother’s words echoed nonstop in her head. What did the future hold for her? She’d abruptly left her big-city, New York life behind when she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. It seemed perfect that Arabella needed help renovating Sweet Nothings. The shop had been dying . . . now it was thriving. And Emma’s broken heart had not only healed, but she’d found a new love in Brian.
But how long would she be content behind the
Emma and Arabella shrugged in unison.
“Almost nothing,” Emma answered.
“Very little,” Arabella said at almost the same time.
“Her name is Mariel,” Arabella said. “She looks to be a good twenty years younger than Hugh. They’ve been married quite a while—their son, Jackson, is in his early twenties.”
“Well,” Priscilla said in a very chipper tone of voice. “We’ll just have to get some more information on her then.” She looked from Emma to Arabella and back again. “It will be fun.”
Arabella rolled her eyes as she picked up the empty dishes and stacked them on the counter. “Why don’t you two go on into the living room. We can have our pie and coffee in there.”
Priscilla put her napkin on the table and stood up. Emma followed suit and walked with her mother down the hallway to the living room.
Priscilla settled herself in an armless chair, back straight, knees together and legs tucked to the side. Emma sat on the couch and tucked one leg underneath her, causing her mother’s eyebrows to draw together slightly and her lips to pucker almost imperceptibly.
“Now that I’m here,” Priscilla said, “I’d love to know what your plans are.”
“Plans?”
“Yes. For the future. You can’t leave things to chance.”
Emma stared at her mother blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you can’t stay here running Arabella’s dusty old lingerie shop forever.”
Emma’s lips tightened. “It’s not dusty. We’ve redone the whole shop. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
“But there’s nothing
here
for you. I was lucky that my career allowed me to advance at the hospital, and of course your father had his law practice. But I can’t imagine what kind of career you could forge in such a small town.”
Emma thought of Brian but bit her lip.
Before Priscilla could say anything more, Arabella came back into the room with the chess pie and a stack of plates. Emma breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, chess pie,” Priscilla exclaimed. “Arabella, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Arabella looked slightly mollified as she passed around plates.
“You know,” Emma said suddenly, “I talked to Liz.” She turned to Priscilla, “You remember Liz O’Connell, don’t you? She’s Liz Banning now.”
Priscilla nodded. “You two were inseparable. How is Liz?”
“She’s fine. She has a boy and a girl—Alice and Ben.”
“Yes, I remember you were asked to be the little girl’s godmother, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “But get this, before he died, Hugh Granger hired her to design a web site for his art business.”
“That’s wonderful,” Priscilla declared. “You’ll have someone right on the spot, so to speak.”
“She’s not sure what the status of the project is now that he’s dead. We’re hoping the son will want to continue with the web site.”
“Let’s hope he does. It will give Liz a chance to keep her ear to the ground.” Priscilla rubbed her hands together. “We can’t let that detective continue thinking that your aunt is a murderess.”
• • •
EMMA lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Her mother’s words echoed nonstop in her head. What did the future hold for her? She’d abruptly left her big-city, New York life behind when she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. It seemed perfect that Arabella needed help renovating Sweet Nothings. The shop had been dying . . . now it was thriving. And Emma’s broken heart had not only healed, but she’d found a new love in Brian.
But how long would she be content behind the
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