CHAPTER 27

C HAPTER 27

"Till this moment I never knew myself."

—Elizabeth Bennet, in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

I 'd never been inside the police precinct. I'd never even received a speeding ticket. Being debriefed took much longer than I expected, but Zach was as gentle as he could be, and Darcy, confined to his crate, was as patient as a saint. Words of explanation poured out of me. The money. The keys. The key fob. Rick's dating profile. His being a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company, meaning he'd know about poisons. I mentioned that Rick might have a scratch on his arm. Zach assured me he'd check it out. Skin tissue, he admitted, had been found under one of Marigold's fingernails.

Tegan and her mother came to the station to support me. Noeline was a bundle of tears, for the loss of her sister, for learning that Rick was the killer, for realizing she'd been bamboozled. After I was released, the three of us went to my house for a much-needed brandy. We didn't talk a lot other than to discuss Noeline's plans to cremate her sister tomorrow. The warmth of the gaslit fireplace soothed us. Darcy, free to roam, tiptoed from one to the other, mewling for affection. Tegan and her mother obliged. Tearfully, at midnight, they left.

The next morning, after a few hours of sleep, I managed my orders. I had to do all the baking at home. Dream Cuisine was off-limits until the investigative team released it. Darcy, like a sergeant at arms, micromanaged me by pacing outside the Plexiglas door. I assured him I wasn't in any more danger, but he didn't believe me. In fact, if he could, he would have barked orders at me to stay in bed.

At the end of the day, the police informed me I was once again allowed to enter Dream Cuisine. I headed there and finalized everything I needed for Marigold's memorial. While I organized and baked, I couldn't tamp down how pleased I was that the pall of having an unsolved murder had been lifted. We could celebrate Marigold's life knowing who had killed her and why. Her friends, customers, and family wouldn't be suspects any longer.

On Friday, I picked up my gown from Lillian. She hugged me and told me how relieved she was that I hadn't been hurt. She added how proud she was to know someone who would risk her life to solve the murder. I wasn't sure I had. On the other hand, whenever I approached the walk-in refrigerator at Dream Cuisine, I shivered. If Rick had prevailed, would I have survived?

At noon on Saturday, I arrived at Feast for the Eyes. Tegan and Chloe helped me wheel in the cart with all my goodies. The three of us had on the same dresses we'd worn to our mini tea. Vanna showed up a half hour later with the items Tegan had assigned her to make. She'd donned an embroidered teal gown with a plunging neckline and a Celtic cross.

"Pretty necklace," I said.

"I purchased it at the festival," she replied, touching the charm. "I might not be of Celtic heritage, but I would have liked to be. I really dig the music and the magical aspect."

I told her what I'd learned as a girl about the migration. "For all you know, you might have some Celtic blood in your veins. "

Her eyes twinkled with delight. "Thank you, Allie. That's very sweet of you to say."

I opened my mouth and pressed it shut. Vanna sure was trying hard to be civil to me.

"I'm sorry Mother's boyfriend trapped you at Dream Cuisine," Vanna went on. "You must have been frightened to death."

"It was pretty scary."

"What a toad he turned out to be."

A toad was putting it mildly.

"Where should I lay out the petit fours?" she asked.

"On the rectangular table by the book island."

Chloe had done a bang-up job of decorating the shop. She'd hung the images of Pride and Prejudice, as well as the quotations, everywhere. There was one long table near the book island covered in a white tablecloth and adorned with daisies, tulips, and daffodils—Marigold adored yellow flowers. All the sweets would be served there. By each of the endcaps, Chloe had arranged smaller tables. I intended to place the savory dishes, like the poached salmon and white soup, on those. We would pass the mini quiches. A beverage table was stationed by the sales counter. We'd decided to offer beer, gin, champagne, and a couple of wine selections, including claret, Marigold's favorite, as all on the list were Regency Era drinks. Of course, tea, coffee, and water were available as well.

Through a speaker, instrumental music was playing softly. We'd discussed having a string quartet, but ultimately nixed the idea. There simply wasn't room for them and all the guests. I'd sent Chloe a list of titles to queue up.

At one, the four servers I'd hired to help pass hors d'oeuvres and clean up after the memorial arrived.

At one forty-five, Noeline and Helga shuffled into the shop, letting the door swing shut behind them. Noeline looked elegant in a pale yellow gown with a lace neckline and lace overskirt. The train made it quite dramatic. She'd tamed her bobbed hairdo with a hairband made of rhinestones, pearls, and fake leaves. Helga was in her blue uniform—did she ever dress in normal clothes?

"How are you holding up?" I asked.

Noeline forced a smile. "I'll manage." She raised the floral Cloisonne urn she was carrying and confided that her sister's remains were within.

Battling tears, I told her to set the urn by the lectern we'd positioned beside the sales counter.

Noeline complied. When she returned, she said, "How can we help?"

"Put me to work," Helga said.

"Don't do a thing, either of you," Tegan said, joining us and kissing her mother's cheek. "We hired staff. Just be present for everyone else. Go. Mingle."

As they moved off, Tegan's friend Dennell entered in a lavender frock. She was carrying two large bottles of spring water. I was glad to see she looked rested. Her eyes had lost the haunted look.

Tegan clasped Dennell's hand. "Thanks for coming." She guided her friend to the beverage table.

Lillian, Stella, Piper, and Evelyn arrived at two.

Evelyn, a larger-than-life woman who towered over the others, and made herself even taller with the coiled updo she always sported, excused herself and made a beeline for me. She clutched my elbow. "All is forgiven." Her tone was low, with a definite edge.

I swallowed hard. "All is—"

"You believed me to be a murderer."

"N-no." I tried to break free.

Evelyn held on tight. "Oh, yes, honey, you did." Her dark brown eyes were as stony as onyx, but then her gaze softened. "Under the circumstances, it was understandable. Everyone was presumed guilty, and well they should have been. Marigold was a sweet soul and deserved justice. You did right by her." She released my arm and smiled warmly. "If you have time, why don't you volunteer at the theater foundation? The powers that be have recently invited me to take over Marigold's job. I'd like to get to know you better."

My knees, which for a second had turned to jelly, grew steadier, and I decided that, yes, to honor Marigold, I'd give volunteering a try . . . in my spare time.

"Allie!" a woman called from the front of the shop.

I was shocked to see my mother and father strolling in. "Fern. Jamie." I hurried to them and kissed each of them on the cheek. We didn't embrace. Neither was a hugger. "Why are you here?"

"We came to pay our respects," my mother said. "Tegan texted me."

Fern was shorter and slimmer than me, and had straight, dark hair. In keeping with her wish to never draw attention to herself, she'd donned a cargo jacket over a beige blouse and slacks. My father, as slim as my mother, although a tad taller, had worn similar nondescript clothing. I could easily see the two of them, the moment the memorial ended, jetting off for another adventurous trek.

"Everyone's in costume," Fern said, stating the obvious.

Not everyone, I mused, which was fine. Tegan and I knew many wouldn't get into the spirit.

"Yes," I said. "Some are in costume because we thought the celebration should be an homage to Marigold's favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. " Apparently, Tegan hadn't mentioned that aspect of the memorial to my mother. I gestured to the posters and quotations.

"Never read it," Fern said. "But the shop is lovely. And you're lovely. Your sage-green dress matches your eyes." She petted my cheek, which jolted me. I couldn't remember the last time she'd touched me tenderly. "Tegan said you were trapped by a killer. I can't imagine. You are so brave. We're so very proud of you."

That sent a seismic shock wave through me. Never, not once in my life, had my mother said she was proud of me. I supposed standing up to a murderer set the bar.

"I knew you'd solve the mystery," Fern continued. "Didn't I tell you, Jamie? Our girl is as bright as a spark. No one holds a candle to her." She turned back to me. "I hope the police were appreciative of your service."

Actually, Zach did thank me for sending him the image of the bank envelope that I'd found in Rick's briefcase. That led the police to search Rick's room at the inn. They found the stolen money stuffed into a sock, along with a half-empty bottle of eye drops, the solution of which matched the poison used to kill Marigold, and they'd discovered surveillance equipment in the closet.

"Quiche?" a server asked as she drew near with a tray of appetizers.

My father reached for one and popped it into his mouth. "You made these?" he asked me around a mouthful.

"I did."

"Delicious." He winked at my mother. "I told you it was a good thing you didn't teach her to cook."

Everything I'd learned had come from a book or a cooking show.

"Be nice." Fern batted his arm, but she was smiling. "Oh, Jamie, there's poor Noeline. Let's give our condolences."

My mother breezed past Evelyn Evers, and I heard Evelyn whisper her name to Lillian. My mother must have heard, because she lifted her chin proudly and continued on without a glance.

Tegan joined me with a plate filled with sweets. She was nibbling on a Maid of Honor. "Why did your mom snub Evelyn? "

"Got me." I recalled the telephone conversation in which Evelyn had bad-mouthed Fern. What was their story? Would either confess?

"Petit four?" Tegan offered me one from her plate. "Vanna really does knock these out of the park."

I couldn't resist.

The pastor of Marigold's church entered the shop, chatting with Graham Wynn, who had dressed in clerical garb appropriate for the Regency period. I bit back a smile. The look suited him.

Katrina Carlson stepped inside next and paused by the first endcap. Oly Olsen sauntered in after her. Neither had dressed in costume. The two studied the growing sea of faces. Oly whispered something to her and gave her a nudge.

She tripped over her feet, but recovered and crossed to Tegan and me. "Hi. Um, I'm glad you were able to, you know . . ."

I embraced her. "Without your help, we wouldn't have figured out what Rick did. It took a lot of courage for you to come forward." I released her.

"It was the least I could do," Katrina murmured. "Detective Armstrong has been wonderful. He helped me get all the negatives from Upton, free of charge."

"That's great news."

"Katrina, I told my mother about your situation," Tegan said, "and she would like to offer you a loan so you can go to school and get your degree. She'll give it to you at a really low interest rate." She leaned forward. "Between you and me, I'll bet she forgives the loan, as long as you finish school. She would want to honor what Auntie intended to do for you."

"You're kidding." Tears sprang to Katrina's eyes. "Really?" She glanced over her shoulder at Oly, who was beaming.

"Yeah, he knows," Tegan said. "Mom clued him in as to her intention to make sure you'd come by today. "

"That's so generous I can barely breathe." Katrina pressed a hand to her chest. "Yes. I accept. Thank you."

Katrina rejoined Oly, and the two walked to the beverage table, where he poured her a celebratory glass of champagne.

"Look who sneaked in," Tegan said. "It's Zach. Go." She nudged me.

The moment I saw him, my jaw dropped. He looked stunning in a black tailcoat over brocade vest, his trousers tucked into black riding boots. He hadn't gone so far as to wear a top hat, but wow!

Heart racing, I had to tell myself to walk at a slow pace until I reached him. "Thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it. Marigold was one of my favorite people. This shop"—he motioned to it—"has been my solace since I moved back to town."

I ushered him through the crowd to the table filled with treats.

"You made all these?" he asked, amazed.

"All but the petit fours and cream puffs."

He took a raspberry-lemon cookie and bit into it. "I'm definitely a cookie guy."

"What's your favorite flavor?" I asked, desperately wanting to know the answer.

"Good old chocolate chip. Double chocolate, if possible." After polishing off a second cookie, he leaned in. The woodsy scent of him was heady. "Listen, Allie . . ."

I held my breath.

"We haven't had a chance to talk since the debriefing," he went on. "Wrapping up this case has taken all my attention, but I've been wanting to apologize for being gruff with you."

"Gruff?"

"And for inadvertently hurting your feelings."

"You didn't. "

"I did, but I had a job to do, and you were, let's face it, getting in the way."

"By offering you clues?"

"By . . ." He worked his tongue inside his cheek and managed to smile. "I care about you."

From his tone, I gathered that it was the concerned kind of care, not the let's fall in love kind, and resigned myself to be okay with that. "I care about you, too. Friends." I jutted my arm to shake hands.

He took my hand between both of his. "Yes, friends. But I'd like it to be more than friends if . . ."

I held my breath. What were the conditions? Could I comply?

"If you like me," he said. "I'm not sure you do. Not in the way I mean. Maybe you were showing interest because you wanted information about the investigation."

"No," I blurted. "I like you, too. I do."

"In that case, I want to ask you on a date if . . ."

There was another stipulation? Honestly? I tilted my head, waiting.

"If you don't get involved in any more murder investigations." He offered a lopsided grin.

I smiled, too. Perhaps a memorial wasn't quite the place to be flirting, but I felt Marigold might approve. "I think I can make that promise." At least, I hoped I could, because I really did like him. A lot.

"Everyone," Tegan said, microphone in hand. She was standing at the lectern. Her hand was shaking with nervous tension, but when she glanced at me and I mouthed, "You've got this," she plowed through her discomfort. After all, she'd practiced the speech a dozen times with me as her audience. "I can't tell you how much my aunt appreciated all of you. How much she loved this bookstore. How much she enjoyed sharing her appreciation of books with you. Take a moment to remember her fondly, and in her honor, continue reading as much as you can. Open your minds to the wonderment of a good story. Talk to others about what you read. Spread the word."

"Hear! Hear!" Zach said.

"And now, before I get maudlin, remember my aunt's favorite quote of all times. ‘Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.' "

Many said "Amen," in chorus.

Noeline spoke next. Vanna followed and read a few lines from Pride and Prejudice. Tegan regained the microphone, looking more composed than she had at first—maybe she was conquering her stage fright—and said if any would like to share stories about Marigold, now was the time.

Two hours later, after sixteen speeches from guests, a heartfelt sermon by the pastor, and one rousing chorus of "Danny Boy"—Marigold's all-time favorite song—the memorial disbanded. There wasn't a dry eye in the bookshop.

Later, after cleaning up, I was on my way out the door with Tegan when Vanna stopped us.

"You know, this was such a success, I think it would be a great idea to have more costume parties related to books at the bookstore. Don't you?" She was brimming with enthusiasm. "Lillian can do the costumes."

Heart, be still! Vanna actually had a clever idea?

"Tegan," Vanna went on, "you'll pick the book, because you're the reader in the family. Won't this be fun? I'm thinking books like The Great Gatsby, or—"

"Or The Thin Man, " Tegan chimed. "Or Lord of the Rings. Or Murder on the Orient Express. I love the idea."

"Allie and I could make food that matches the theme," Vanna said, applauding in genteel fashion. "Allie, are you in?"

"Yes, I . . . "

Hold the phone! Did Vanna just say we, as in she and I would make the food together? My head started to spin. No, not possible. We could never work together. I regarded her and saw tears of joy pooling in her eyes. Was she a changed woman? Could we be a team?

"Allie?" Tegan squeezed my arm.

A few days later, Tegan asked me to come with her to Marigold's house. She, Vanna, and Noeline were going to go through her clothes and household items and give whatever they didn't want to charity. Vanna's Mercedes and Noeline's RAV4 were in the driveway. Tegan pulled up to the curb and parked.

"Vanna is going to be ticked off," I said as I walked up the porch steps.

"She has no say. You're here at my mom's request. In case you see something you like." Tegan plucked a stray hair off her Book Lover T-shirt before opening the front door and motioning for me to enter first. "She knows how much Auntie treasured you."

I stepped across the threshold and took in my immediate surroundings. I'd visited Marigold on numerous occasions, but now it all seemed so museum-like. A Chagall hung on the wall above the foyer table. A trio of small Miró paintings were mounted on the opposite wall. In the parlor, to the right, stood a piano and a grouping of antique furniture. The living room, on the left, was plush with an oversized sofa and equally cushy chairs. A portrait of Marigold as a young woman with her beloved hung above the fireplace. It was going to be her gift to him on their wedding day. On the mantel stood the urn containing her ashes. To the right and left of the fireplace were bookcases filled with books. There was also one freestanding hermetically enclosed case, similar to the one in the office at Feast for the Eyes .

"You're going to keep the first editions, aren't you?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Auntie couldn't part with any of them, and neither can I."

"We'll need the books appraised," Vanna said, striding into the foyer from the kitchen at the rear of the house, her four-inch heels clicking on the hardwood floors, her pencil skirt—honestly, why did she insist on wearing uncomfortable clothes?—straining with every stride. She eyed me. "What are you—" She jammed her lips together. Her restraint impressed me.

After her suggestion to host costume-food-book parties at the shop, she had been doing her best to play nice. In a prickly moment, I'd wondered whether her catering business was floundering, thus making her more eager to partner up with me, but then I'd reminded myself that couldn't be the reason, considering what she would inherit from her aunt. I did need someone to assist me, but was she the right person? Would I need to invest in a pair of boxing gloves?

"By the way," Vanna went on, "the Realtor has three offers on the house. She's coming here to present them. Okay?"

Tegan nodded.

"Mother is upstairs." Vanna pointed to the staircase. "She'd like to start there."

She led the way. Tegan followed. Small masterpieces adorned the walls. Persian runners lined the floors.

We found Noeline in the primary bedroom, her face tear-stained. She was standing beside the bed, where an array of sweaters, skirts, and blouses were lying in a pile. Others were folded, stacked, and assorted by color. Hanging in the walk-in closet were trousers, winter coats, arty smocks, and T-shirts. Like Tegan, Marigold had delighted in wearing fun, whimsical clothing. She would don her more tailored, classical styles to impress foundation bigwigs .

"Evelyn reached out and asked if we could donate some of Marigold's things to the community theater." Noeline lifted a silk blouse. "What kind of character would wear this?"

"Anyone in a courtroom drama," Tegan said.

Noeline nodded absently.

Vanna ambled to the bureau near the window. Sunlight graced her face as she opened a mahogany jewelry case. "The other day while I was waiting for the Realtor to arrive, I went through this box. I think most of it is paste." She hooked a pinky around a necklace and displayed it to us. "There are similar containers in the closet."

Tegan said, "Allie, help me bring everything out here." She walked into the closet.

I followed.

She gathered smocks and T-shirts in her arms. "Grab the coats," she said.

I lifted three, but paused when I spied a wall safe behind them, the kind you'd see in a hotel, with an electronic digital code. I plunked the coats on the floor. "Tegan, did you know about this?"

Tegan joined me and gawked. "Mom! Vanna! C'mere."

The two joined us. It was crowded, but we managed.

Noeline gasped. "Is that—"

Tegan nodded. "Would you know the combination?"

"No clue."

"Vanna?" Tegan asked.

"Me either," her half sister replied.

"Ms. Ivey might know," I suggested.

Tegan pulled out her cell phone and dialed the bank manager, who said she didn't have a record of a wall safe and apologized. Tegan exchanged a look with me and a grin spread across her face. "What do you bet . . ." She stared at her cell phone and said, "Allie, tap in seven, seven, three, five, eight, three, four, two, three. "

I did as told and the electronic lock released. "What the—"

"Those are the reciprocal numbers for p-r-e-j-u-d-i-c-e, " Tegan said. "Auntie really was obsessed with the book."

I swung the door open and Vanna stepped forward, but I blocked her progress, to let Tegan have the first look. She whistled.

"What's inside?" Vanna demanded.

"Baggies."

"Filled with marijuana?" Noeline asked.

"No, Mother, get real." A laugh burbled out of my pal. "It looks like valuables." Tegan pulled out the items and said, "This is for you." She handed Noeline a bag with a note addressed to her on it.

Noeline opened the bag and found a pretty turquoise ring. She read the note. " ‘Turquoise has always been your favorite, Sis. I bought this with you in mind. Don't worry. It's not too expensive. Wear it often. Love you always.'" Tears flowed freely from Noeline's eyes now.

"This is for you, Vanna," Tegan said, handing her half sister a baggie.

Vanna opened it and found a handful of gold coins. Confused, she read the note Marigold had written: " ‘Vanna, my dear girl, don't rely on your clients to determine your value. You are worth more than all the gold coins in the world, if you would believe in yourself. '" Her voice cracked on the last word. She clutched the bag to her chest, and whispered, "Oh, Auntie."

"Allie, this one is for you." Tegan held out a third bag.

"Me? But—"

She jiggled it. "Take it. Open it."

I did and inside found a Celtic knot ring that matched my necklace. I, too, read my note aloud. " ‘Dearest Allie, treasure your roots. Treasure your good heart. Treasure your gift of curiosity. They will not fail you as long as you live. And whenever you read a good book, think of me.' " My fingers trembled as I slipped the ring onto my finger. Marigold, thank you, I prayed silently. I'll treasure you forever.

"What's in there for you, darling?" Noeline asked Tegan.

"There's nothing more." She sounded disheartened but mustered a brave face. "Auntie gave me the bookshop. That's enough."

I picked up the coats I'd dropped on the floor, and silently we all moved into the bedroom. I tossed the coats onto a Queen Anne chair and something in a plastic bag flew from one of the pockets. I retrieved it, and my spirits lifted. It was tagged with a note to Tegan. Within was a beautiful ring. A diamond-and-ruby target ring, to be specific.

I handed the bag to her and she read the note. " ‘Tegan, my sweet, you always admired this ring. It is yours. If it hasn't been cleaned by the time you receive it, please do so. It will sparkle as you do and bring you joy, as you bring joy to me.' "

Tegan began to sob. Noeline swept her into a hug. Vanna joined the twosome.

I kept my distance. This was a family moment, and as much as I felt they were my family, I didn't want to intrude.

"Knock-knock," a woman said from the hallway. She stepped into the bedroom. "Am I interrupting?" She was wearing a blazer over a silk blouse and trousers. In one hand, she held a tooled leather briefcase. In the other, she carried what looked like contracts. "The front door was unlocked. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in."

"Mom, Tegan," Vanna said, "this is Ms. Richards, our Realtor."

They greeted her warmly.

Ms. Richards explained that she had three offers. "However, I have to say, ladies, one offer stands out above the rest. I think that person really wants the house and will cherish it the most. Would you like to hear it first? "

Vanna said, "Yes, please." She clutched Tegan's hand in solidarity. "We're ready."

"Tegan," Ms. Richards said, "would you like to tell them?"

Tegan released her sister's hand. "Vanna, you have your Victorian. Mom has the inn. I'm done with Winston. I really, really want this house. I'm willing to pay top dollar to have it. Please say yes, Sis. Please. "

" Sis? Did you call me Sis ?" Vanna's cheeks tinged pink.

"I did."

Vanna clasped Tegan in a hug and then held her at arm's length. "I'll say yes, as long as you and Allie consider my idea about the parties at the bookshop."

"We already have," I said, grabbing Tegan's hand. "We agree. We're in."