counter of Sweet Nothings selling vintage lingerie? She flung herself onto her left side. Bette grunted and moved down toward the end of the bed. Emma didn’t know the answer to that. Right now her life seemed perfect, but would it pale in another year or two?
And if she married Brian—the thought brought a rush of pleasure—would she eventually long for something more challenging than running Sweet Nothings? And would she be able to find it in her small hometown?
Emma did eventually fall asleep, but she woke up the next morning without any of the answers having magically revealed themselves to her. She was brushing her teeth and thinking about her previous night’s conversation with her mother when she remembered she wanted to call Liz. Perhaps Liz had had word as to whether or not the web site project for Hugh Granger’s business was still on. Emma dried her hands and went out to the kitchen to get her phone.
She took it over to the window seat, where she had a wonderful view of Washington Street. She noticed Mr. Zimmerman walking past on the other side of the street with Bertha, his dachshund, and Fritz, one of Bette’s siblings. Bette jumped onto the window seat and began barking furiously, her breath fogging the glass.
Emma waited until Mr. Zimmerman had passed and Bette had calmed down before punching in Liz’s number. Liz answered on the third ring. Emma could hear the sounds of children squabbling in the background.
“Hello,” Liz said, then, “Ben, leave your sister alone, and both of you go brush your teeth. You’re going to be late. Sorry about that,” she said to Emma.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m obviously calling at a bad time—you’re trying to get the kids off to school. I just wondered if you’d heard from Jackson about the web site.”
“Yes, and he’s going ahead with the project. He said you can hardly do business in this century without a web site. And get this,” Liz said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “He told me they need someone to work for them part-time taking an inventory of the works in their collection. They’ll need it for the IRS and to settle the estate. I could mention your name to him. It would give you the chance to do some snooping.”
Emma felt a burst of excitement, but then she thought of Arabella, and it fizzled like a wet firecracker. What would her aunt do without her?
Emma chewed on the thought as she got dressed. It would be a shame not to take advantage of such a perfect opportunity. Perhaps she could enlist Francis’s support? He had mentioned wanting to get close to Hugh Granger and his operations. This would put someone on the inside.
Emma clipped on Bette’s leash, and they hurried down to Sweet Nothings. Sylvia and Arabella arrived just as Emma was starting a pot of coffee. Emma was too excited to wait, and the words tumbled out before Arabella had even gotten her coat off.
“Liz says there’s a part-time job available with the Grangers—cataloging their collection. If I took it, it would put me on the spot. And it’s only part-time. If you think you could manage . . .”
“You should definitely take the job,” Arabella said. “Detective Walker came by with some more questions this morning. I’m beginning to feel the noose tightening.” She tugged at the black-and-white print scarf tied around her neck.
“We can ask Eloise Montgomery to come back and help,” Sylvia said from her post behind the counter.
Eloise was a fellow resident of Sunny Days, the retirement community where Sylvia lived. She had helped out in the shop when Arabella had been recovering after her house fire.
“Do you think she would do it?” Emma looked up from measuring water into the coffeepot.
Sylvia nodded her head vigorously, and her gold chandelier earrings spun to and fro. “Yeah, she said she loved working here and to call her anytime. I know I’m grateful I’ve got somewhere to go besides bingo and the movies at old Sunny Days.”
Emma
And if she married Brian—the thought brought a rush of pleasure—would she eventually long for something more challenging than running Sweet Nothings? And would she be able to find it in her small hometown?
Emma did eventually fall asleep, but she woke up the next morning without any of the answers having magically revealed themselves to her. She was brushing her teeth and thinking about her previous night’s conversation with her mother when she remembered she wanted to call Liz. Perhaps Liz had had word as to whether or not the web site project for Hugh Granger’s business was still on. Emma dried her hands and went out to the kitchen to get her phone.
She took it over to the window seat, where she had a wonderful view of Washington Street. She noticed Mr. Zimmerman walking past on the other side of the street with Bertha, his dachshund, and Fritz, one of Bette’s siblings. Bette jumped onto the window seat and began barking furiously, her breath fogging the glass.
Emma waited until Mr. Zimmerman had passed and Bette had calmed down before punching in Liz’s number. Liz answered on the third ring. Emma could hear the sounds of children squabbling in the background.
“Hello,” Liz said, then, “Ben, leave your sister alone, and both of you go brush your teeth. You’re going to be late. Sorry about that,” she said to Emma.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m obviously calling at a bad time—you’re trying to get the kids off to school. I just wondered if you’d heard from Jackson about the web site.”
“Yes, and he’s going ahead with the project. He said you can hardly do business in this century without a web site. And get this,” Liz said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “He told me they need someone to work for them part-time taking an inventory of the works in their collection. They’ll need it for the IRS and to settle the estate. I could mention your name to him. It would give you the chance to do some snooping.”
Emma felt a burst of excitement, but then she thought of Arabella, and it fizzled like a wet firecracker. What would her aunt do without her?
Emma chewed on the thought as she got dressed. It would be a shame not to take advantage of such a perfect opportunity. Perhaps she could enlist Francis’s support? He had mentioned wanting to get close to Hugh Granger and his operations. This would put someone on the inside.
Emma clipped on Bette’s leash, and they hurried down to Sweet Nothings. Sylvia and Arabella arrived just as Emma was starting a pot of coffee. Emma was too excited to wait, and the words tumbled out before Arabella had even gotten her coat off.
“Liz says there’s a part-time job available with the Grangers—cataloging their collection. If I took it, it would put me on the spot. And it’s only part-time. If you think you could manage . . .”
“You should definitely take the job,” Arabella said. “Detective Walker came by with some more questions this morning. I’m beginning to feel the noose tightening.” She tugged at the black-and-white print scarf tied around her neck.
“We can ask Eloise Montgomery to come back and help,” Sylvia said from her post behind the counter.
Eloise was a fellow resident of Sunny Days, the retirement community where Sylvia lived. She had helped out in the shop when Arabella had been recovering after her house fire.
“Do you think she would do it?” Emma looked up from measuring water into the coffeepot.
Sylvia nodded her head vigorously, and her gold chandelier earrings spun to and fro. “Yeah, she said she loved working here and to call her anytime. I know I’m grateful I’ve got somewhere to go besides bingo and the movies at old Sunny Days.”
Emma
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