doorway holding the rug.
Mia waved and Monique rolled her eyes.
“Hey, I heard he’s good-looking. Is that true?” Monique asked as she led Mia into the dry cleaners after putting the rug in Mrs. Carmody’s trunk.
“If by him, you mean Dr. MacCarey, the answer is yes.”
“Dr. MacCarey, eh?”
“Anthropologist,” Mia said as she leaned her elbows on the service counter.
“Good enough.”
“Good enough for what?”
Monique stood on the other side of the counter and took up what she must have been doing before Mrs. Carmody arrived, shoving incoming laundry into bags and labeling them.
“Good enough for you,” she said as she gave a couple of shirts an extra hard shove. A harsh gesture for Monique, who was usually a gentle soul.
“You are not talking about what I think you’re talking about.”
“You bet I am. If you don’t want him, I’ll take a crack at him.”
“No, you wouldn’t. And what’s going on with you?”
“Oh, nothing, really, nothing.” Monique made dismissive circles in the air with her hands.
“Monique.” Mia stilled her friend’s hands.
“Okay, I thought I got a new regular customer, but... Never mind.”
“Never mind it’s not important, or never mind you don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“Can we just do never mind for a while?” Monique’s eyes held a pleading look.
“Okay.”
“Did you hear Mac and Sally are engaged?” Monique asked over-brightly.
“Does that mean he’s done saying he’s sorry for taking you on the worst date ever?”
“What do you mean? You thought getting champagne up my nose was a bad time?” Monique shoved more laundry in a bag.
“I thought running out of gas and having to be rescued in the middle of the harbor was the best part.”
“Mia, what if it could happen for me? After all this time, I find a guy right here in Bailey’s Cove? I get to marry, live happily ever after right here at home.” Monique got all dreamy-faced. “I still believe, you know.”
Mia shrugged and smiled. “Who knows? Your heart may wander right into bliss.”
“So what are you doing here instead of being over there with him? Hiding so you won’t fall in love?”
“Hiding so I won’t commit murder and then brick the wall back up with an anthropologist inside.”
“You are so totally bad.”
“I wish.” Mia leaned her elbows on the counter. “I wish.”
“Ms. Parker, I wish you’d at least help Ms. Beaudin when you’re here,” Mr. Wetherbee, the shop owner, said as he appeared between the beaded strands of the curtained doorway leading to the back room. “If I had both of you to do the job, I might get a good day’s work done around here for the money I pay this little slacker.”
Monique tossed a lightweight laundry bag at the shopkeeper’s head in reply.
Mr. Wetherbee haha-ed good-naturedly and continued out the front door, leaving the bag where it had fallen.
“You don’t need him,” Mia said, still leaning on her elbows.
“Except he owns the store.”
“Minor detail.”
“I suspect he pays me so much because he wants me to have enough money to buy the store from him someday.” She tossed another filled bag into the canvas cart of waiting laundry and turned on Mia with a long sigh. “So back to you. You wanna kill a guy that cute. Must be a really good reason.”
“I made it clear to him about how important it is for me to get back in there and get the job done, but he’s so...so...”
“Ah, anthropologist-y?”
“I think I hate him.”
Monique looked up from the label she was scribbling out. “’Cuz he wants to get things right?”
“Maybe, but maybe because he’s good-looking and he’s funny.”
“A bone-and-pot-shard guy is funny? Since when do you not like funny?”
“Oh, please.” Mia clapped her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her face into distorted horror.
“Would he be just exactly the kind of person you’d want if you ever looked for another man?”
Monique sighed
Mia waved and Monique rolled her eyes.
“Hey, I heard he’s good-looking. Is that true?” Monique asked as she led Mia into the dry cleaners after putting the rug in Mrs. Carmody’s trunk.
“If by him, you mean Dr. MacCarey, the answer is yes.”
“Dr. MacCarey, eh?”
“Anthropologist,” Mia said as she leaned her elbows on the service counter.
“Good enough.”
“Good enough for what?”
Monique stood on the other side of the counter and took up what she must have been doing before Mrs. Carmody arrived, shoving incoming laundry into bags and labeling them.
“Good enough for you,” she said as she gave a couple of shirts an extra hard shove. A harsh gesture for Monique, who was usually a gentle soul.
“You are not talking about what I think you’re talking about.”
“You bet I am. If you don’t want him, I’ll take a crack at him.”
“No, you wouldn’t. And what’s going on with you?”
“Oh, nothing, really, nothing.” Monique made dismissive circles in the air with her hands.
“Monique.” Mia stilled her friend’s hands.
“Okay, I thought I got a new regular customer, but... Never mind.”
“Never mind it’s not important, or never mind you don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“Can we just do never mind for a while?” Monique’s eyes held a pleading look.
“Okay.”
“Did you hear Mac and Sally are engaged?” Monique asked over-brightly.
“Does that mean he’s done saying he’s sorry for taking you on the worst date ever?”
“What do you mean? You thought getting champagne up my nose was a bad time?” Monique shoved more laundry in a bag.
“I thought running out of gas and having to be rescued in the middle of the harbor was the best part.”
“Mia, what if it could happen for me? After all this time, I find a guy right here in Bailey’s Cove? I get to marry, live happily ever after right here at home.” Monique got all dreamy-faced. “I still believe, you know.”
Mia shrugged and smiled. “Who knows? Your heart may wander right into bliss.”
“So what are you doing here instead of being over there with him? Hiding so you won’t fall in love?”
“Hiding so I won’t commit murder and then brick the wall back up with an anthropologist inside.”
“You are so totally bad.”
“I wish.” Mia leaned her elbows on the counter. “I wish.”
“Ms. Parker, I wish you’d at least help Ms. Beaudin when you’re here,” Mr. Wetherbee, the shop owner, said as he appeared between the beaded strands of the curtained doorway leading to the back room. “If I had both of you to do the job, I might get a good day’s work done around here for the money I pay this little slacker.”
Monique tossed a lightweight laundry bag at the shopkeeper’s head in reply.
Mr. Wetherbee haha-ed good-naturedly and continued out the front door, leaving the bag where it had fallen.
“You don’t need him,” Mia said, still leaning on her elbows.
“Except he owns the store.”
“Minor detail.”
“I suspect he pays me so much because he wants me to have enough money to buy the store from him someday.” She tossed another filled bag into the canvas cart of waiting laundry and turned on Mia with a long sigh. “So back to you. You wanna kill a guy that cute. Must be a really good reason.”
“I made it clear to him about how important it is for me to get back in there and get the job done, but he’s so...so...”
“Ah, anthropologist-y?”
“I think I hate him.”
Monique looked up from the label she was scribbling out. “’Cuz he wants to get things right?”
“Maybe, but maybe because he’s good-looking and he’s funny.”
“A bone-and-pot-shard guy is funny? Since when do you not like funny?”
“Oh, please.” Mia clapped her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her face into distorted horror.
“Would he be just exactly the kind of person you’d want if you ever looked for another man?”
Monique sighed
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