Chocolate Dipped Death (5 page)

“God only knows what I would have found if I’d been ten minutes later,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Her pain was raw and palpable, and it wasn’t alone. All the hurt and outrage I’d felt over Roger’s affair was there, shoring it up.

I reached across the cushion again, this time to link my fingers with hers. “You don’t think Sergio would have . . . you know?”

Karen’s hazel eyes darkened. “Had sex with her? Absolutely. You know how men get when they’re around Savannah. It’s like they can’t even think.”

“Yeah, but—” I cut myself off before I could defend her. Maybe she’d fooled me, too. Maybe everything she’d said tonight on the street had been an act, designed to win sympathy. If so, it had worked like a charm. Feeling foolish, I nodded toward the suitcase. “So you left him? For good?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m so angry I can hardly see straight. I can’t even bear to look at him right now.”

“What about the kids?”

“They’re home. He can take care of them for a while. Let’s see how much time he has for getting friendly with an old girlfriend while he’s washing dirty underwear and running kids to karate class.”

I wondered just how much laundry and carpooling Sergio would actually do, but I didn’t dare raise the question aloud. He was in enough trouble as it was. “So where are you going?”

The corners of Karen’s mouth turned down. “Going?”

“You’ve left home, and you’re carrying around a suitcase. You must have something planned.”

“Well, of course I do. I’m staying here with you.”

“Here?” I uncurled quickly. “
Here?
But—”

“You don’t want me?”

I knew I must look horrified, and I didn’t want to add to her pain, so I shook my head and dug up a smile. “I didn’t say that. It’s just that this place is so small—”

“It’s not
that
small. This sofa still makes out into a bed, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Okay then. There’s plenty of room for the two of us here. Mandy and I lived here for a couple of years before Sergio and I got married, remember? We got along just fine.”

Yeah, but—but this wasn’t Aunt Grace’s “community” property anymore. It was mine, and I wasn’t sure Karen and I could coexist peacefully in such close quarters. Since my divorce, I’d learned to value this space of my own. I just didn’t know how to say that without sounding selfish or greedy.

Besides, what kind of horrible person would tell her own cousin that she had to leave at two thirty in the morning? In the dead of winter? Sloshed to the gills? Then again, what kind of cousin showed up at two thirty in the morning?

I couldn’t turn her away. Not tonight, anyway. Swallowing all the reasons for saying no, I scrambled from the couch to gather a pillow and blanket. By the time I came back, Karen had changed into a long flannel nightgown, and she was tugging on the couch, trying to unfold the mattress.

“I hope it’s not too lumpy,” I said as I reached down to help. “It’s a pretty old mattress.”

She gave another heave, and the bed opened. I wasn’t prepared and nearly lost my balance. “You’ll have to get a new one soon,” Karen said, reaching out a hand to steady me.

Almost before I could regain my balance, Karen toppled onto her side and let out a deep, satisfied moan. She was definitely settled in. I stuffed the pillow under her head and spread the blanket over her, hoping for the sake of our relationship that she didn’t plan to stay long. Or that I could stay sane if she did.

 

I was nowhere near ready to wake up when the phone rang the next morning. Inching open one eye to make sure it was light outside, I rolled onto my side and dragged the comforter over my head to block out the sound.

It didn’t work. After six irritating rings, I gave up and swam out from beneath the covers. Even through sleep-blurred eyes, I registered that it was six thirty in the morning—way too early to expect coherent conversation, especially after less than four hours’ sleep.

On the other hand, maybe it was Sergio looking for his missing wife. That thought got me lunging for the receiver. “Wait! Don’t hang up. I’m here.”

“Abby?”

I froze, my torso half off the mattress, and tried to place the unfamiliar voice. “Yes?”

“Miles Horne here. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Was he serious? I struggled upright against the head-board, pulling the comforter with me. “You’re calling me at six thirty and wondering if you woke me?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to catch you before you got busy.”

“This is Paradise, Miles, not New York. What did you need?”

“I’d like to talk with you first thing this morning—both Savannah and I would.”

“It’s not about the contest, is it? Because I really shouldn’t talk to any of the contestants alone.”

“Understood, but Savannah’s terribly upset over the accusations that woman made against her. She hardly slept a wink all night.”

It probably wasn’t the contest that kept her awake, but I decided not to say so. Somebody else could clue Miles in on his wife’s late-night activities. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I still—”

Miles cut me off impatiently. “Don’t you think Savannah deserves a chance to defend herself?”

“Well, of course she does. I’m just not sure that defending herself is going to be necessary. I’m hoping that Evie’s had a good night’s sleep and plenty of time to rethink her position.”

“Do you really think that’s going to happen?”

I sat on the edge of the bed and felt around with my foot for my slippers. Max was used to Karen, but I didn’t know if letting her sleep here would upset his routine. If he’d left any deposits on the floor, I’d rather encounter them with a wad of paper towel and a mop than my bare foot. “Evie’s not an unreasonable woman,” I said. “Once she thinks about what happened last night, she’ll realize that there’s no real evidence that Savannah did anything wrong.”

“I hope you’re right, but that doesn’t change the facts. The fact is, she accused my wife of cheating in front of a large number of people. Whether or not she rethinks her position, my wife’s reputation has already been damaged.”

“It would take more than a few accusations from Evie Rice to hurt Savannah’s reputation,” I said. “And I spoke with one of the judges last night. They have no intention of overturning their decision.”

“Again, I’m glad, but I think you’re missing the point. The point is, that woman owes my wife a public apology, and I intend to see that she delivers.”

A public apology? From Evie? Never in a million years. She’d die first. Uneasiness settled in my stomach like a stone. “Was this Savannah’s idea?”

“She agrees with me one hundred percent.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “About demanding a public apology.”

“Absolutely.”

Then Savannah had lost her mind, that’s all there was to that. Here I was, praying that we could pretend last night had never happened, and Miles was all set to throw everything into turmoil again. “This trouble between Savannah and Evie goes back a long way, Miles. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to get Evie to apologize.”

“I never said it would be easy, but surely you understand why it has to happen.”

“Frankly, no, I don’t. Everyone knows that tempers were flaring last night, but it wasn’t the first time that’s happened.”

“So you plan to just sweep the whole thing under the rug?” His tone was sharp and accusing.

I didn’t react well to it. “Evie might have been on the rampage last night,” I said, letting irritation shave the edges off my tone, too, “but Savannah has done her share over the years to provoke her. If you expect Evie to apologize for last night, she’ll expect Savannah to apologize for some of the things she’s done. This is difficult enough now. Digging up the past will only make it worse.”

“I’m not concerned about the past,” Miles said.

“Around here, you’d better be.” When he didn’t back down, I said, “I
might
be able to arrange a meeting between the two of them—a private meeting. But even that’s a stretch.”

“Look, Abby, just between you and me, I know that Savannah’s not well-liked here in Paradise. I don’t know why, but I’d have to be dead to miss the looks on people’s faces when she walks into a room. But she
is
my wife, and she
is
trying to make things better. I just don’t know how she can do that if people won’t even give her a chance.”

I thought about the conversation I’d had with Savannah the night before and felt myself thaw slightly. I knew how it felt to be an outsider. If Savannah really did want to make amends, who was I to stand in her way?

“Just talk to us,” Miles urged. “Give Savannah a chance to explain. That’s all I ask.”

I must have hesitated, and that was enough to convince him I was weakening. “We can be there in an hour,” he said eagerly. “Savannah’s out jogging right now, but she should be back soon. Half an hour at most. I can head over right now if that’s okay. I’ll just leave her a note to meet me there when she gets back.”

I resented being railroaded, but I had to consider the contest and the future of Divinity. Both Evie and Savannah were more than capable of causing trouble for the shop—and for me. The only way out of this was to figure out a compromise they could both live with. Maybe I could convince Miles and Savannah to forgo the public apology if I met with them over coffee. Maybe I could convince Evie to stop crying foul. And hey! After that, maybe I could spin straw into gold.

Impossible as compromise seemed, I had to try. I grimaced at the ratty sweats and oversized T-shirt I’d worn to bed and tried to stall him. “There’s no need to rush. The store doesn’t open until ten. Just wait for Savannah to get back and then come over together.”

“I’d rather come along now, if that’s all right.” Miles paused, sipped something close to the phone, and set off a strong craving for coffee. “I’d like a few minutes with you before Savannah gets there.”

I couldn’t imagine why, but I sighed and dug a pair of socks and clean underwear out of my drawer. “All right. Fine.” If I wasn’t too fussy about my appearance, that would be plenty of time.

After Miles disconnected, I tiptoed to my bedroom door and peered into the living room to see if the phone had woken Karen. Instead of finding my cousin hungover and snoring, I found Max curled up on the sofa bed, his head propped up on Karen’s pillow. He lifted his head at the sound of my footsteps, yawned noisily, and flopped back onto the pillow.

I checked the kitchen, the bathroom, and even shouted downstairs into the shop, but Karen’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, and I couldn’t see or hear any sign of her anywhere.

Hoping she’d gone home to work things out with Sergio, I scuffed back down the hall toward my bedroom. I know it sounds incredibly naïve, but for a few minutes there, I actually thought my luck was changing.

Freshly showered and ready to face the day, I
hauled on a clean pair of jeans and my favorite red sweater, then pulled on boots and gloves and led Max down the stairs and outside into the cold. Twenty minutes later, the dog was back in the apartment with a peanut butter doggie pop, and I was standing in the middle of Divinity’s candy kitchen.

To fortify myself for the meeting with Savannah and Miles, I decided to whip up a batch of Aunt Grace’s Celestial Chocolate French Toast. Even when the world is falling down around you, there’s not much that can stay wrong when you have a plate of golden brown toast stuffed with melted chocolate sitting in front of you.

I ground shavings from the specialty chocolate we laid in for special occasions, beat together the eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla, and salt, and then layered chocolate between slices of bread, and left them to soak in the egg mixture while I poured my first cup of coffee.

I spooned in sugar and a dash of creamer, then added two heaping spoonfuls of milk chocolate powder and carried my cup into the shop. Before I could even come up with a strategy for negotiating a compromise, a black BMW pulled up to the curb. Miles Horne stepped out onto the street during a lull in the early morning traffic, glanced around almost nervously, and strode toward the store. He wore a long dress coat over black pants and a black turtleneck, and he moved with that brand of self-confidence that seems to accompany money.

Reluctantly abandoning my coffee, I unlocked the door and let him inside. He slid past me into the empty store and took a quick look around. Making sure we were alone, or just taking stock of his surroundings? I couldn’t be sure.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” he said with a smile that wiped away my uncertainty. “I promise not to take long.”

I shut the door and locked it again. “I hope you’re not here to ask for preferential treatment. If the other contestants find out you’ve been here, there could be trouble.”

“Well, then, we just won’t tell them.” Grinning at his own response, he nodded toward my cup. “Do you have any more of that? The heater in that rental car is a piece of crap.”