Dangerous Alterations (12 page)

Heads lifted around the room, a medley of confusion and worry etched in each and every face. It was Beatrice, though, who finally spoke, her calm nanny-voice aimed solely at Rose. “I believe the prime minister has advocated a program throughout the schools to address that very concern. And as far as any surgical procedures, I would guess it’s like it is here … Those who can afford, do. Those who can’t, don’t.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed behind her bifocals. “What on earth are you talking about, Beatrice?”

The nanny’s face drained of all color. “I—I was addressing your comment about London. How they’re trying to address that issue through a combination of education and exercise.”

Without taking her focus off Beatrice, the elderly woman pointed at Leona. “And
I
was talking about that old goat’s rodent.”

Leona’s mouth gaped open.

Margaret Louise chuckled.

“You take that back, Rose Winters!” Setting her travel magazine on the coffee table, Leona leaned forward, plucked Paris off the ground, and set him in her lap. “I will not have you insult him like that. And his name is
Paris
, not London.”

“Then let me rephrase …
Paris
is getting fat.”

“He’s not getting—wait.” Georgina set her square of white fabric in her lap and bobbed her head first left, then right. “Actually, Leona, he does seem to be getting a bit, um, pudgy.”

Leona stamped her foot on the ground. “He has a healthy appetite as a man should, but that does not make him pudgy.” Elevating the bunny into the air, Leona looked into his large eyes. “Don’t you listen to a word these women are saying, Paris. You are handsome just the way you are.”

“I like his bow tie, Leona. He looks very cute with it around his neck,” Debbie interjected. “The brown really brings out his eyes.”

“I agree,” Beatrice whispered. “Luke and I saw him with you at Leeson’s the other day and it was all he talked about on the way home. He wants a bunny now.”

“Sally and Lulu want one, too.” Melissa held a sleepy Molly Sue against her shoulder and rocked back and forth. “But they say it has to be just like Auntie Leona’s bunny.”

“He’s still
fat
,” Rose mumbled.

“So, Victoria, tell us about Milo’s conference.” Georgina flipped the lid on her sewing box and rooted around inside for a thread that would match the pink and white cover she was making for Margaret Louise’s pillow. “How is it going?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“This was for math?” Debbie asked.

“It’s touching on various subjects and teaching styles. New methods, new approaches, that sort of thing.”

“What’s been his favorite part so far?”

She felt her face warm with embarrassment. She knew it was a question she should be able to answer, yet she couldn’t. And it was her fault. She’d been entirely too preoccupied with her own stuff the past two weeks—too preoccupied to show interest in Milo’s trip let alone listen to any updates he may have divulged on his own.

“I don’t know.” She knew it sounded lame. Pathetic, even. But it was the truth.

Margaret Louise reached across the gap separating their seats and patted Tori’s hand. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, Victoria.”

“I imagine Dixie being at the library has been a help.”

She met Georgina’s gaze. “You’re right, it should be. Except that I’m beginning to think I’m a bit of a control freak.”

Debbie laughed. “Who of us in this room
isn’t
?”

“But I worry about silly things like whether she’s remembered to lock the doors at night even though she’s locked them more times than I have.” She stared down at the pale blue fabric still folded neatly in her lap. “I guess I’m just more familiar with Nina’s work ethic than I am Dixie’s.”

“Dixie will do just fine.” Rose adjusted her glasses to sit more squarely on her nose. “I promise. Not everyone becomes incompetent as they age.”

Tori sucked in her breath. “Rose, I never said—I mean, I wasn’t trying to insinuate that Dixie is incompetent. It’s really more a case of me and my reluctance to hand over the reins.”

“Do you think that’s why you haven’t given Milo an answer yet?” Melissa brushed a kiss across Molly Sue’s temple and then stood, closing the gap between the rocker and the baby’s travel crib with soft, even steps.

She tried on Melissa’s words for size. Was that why? Was she afraid to hand over control? Was she afraid that if she did, she’d somehow lose control over her own destiny?

“She handed them over once and got her heart broken. It’s really no wonder why she’d be afraid to do it again.” Leona stroked Paris again and again, the pads of her fingers disappearing into the animal’s soft brown fur. “Fortunately, Victoria is a very smart girl and she realizes what happened with Jeff has everything to do with Jeff, and Jeff alone. It has absolutely no reflection on her at all.”

Rose nodded her approval in Leona’s direction. “I couldn’t have said that better myself.”

Feeling her eyes begin to burn, Tori searched for the safest topic she could find. “So how many pillows are we trying to make?”

“The more the merrier.” Rose winced and dropped her needle.

Tori pushed off her seat. “Rose? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. My hand just aches.”

“Do you think last week’s treatments helped at all?” Margaret Louise asked.

Rose shrugged, her frail shoulders rising ever so slowly only to drift back down with just as much care. “Maybe. A little. But I still don’t feel like I want to feel, or like I used to feel.”

She rested her hand on Rose’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Rose waved her sentiment aside. “It’s hard to feel sorry for myself when there’s people like Lynn who are fighting a much harder battle than I am. Especially when they haven’t had as many years as I’ve been blessed with on this earth.”

“Your friend has had a rough time, hasn’t she, Rose?” Beatrice looked up from the pillow taking shape under her portable sewing machine.

“She has,” Rose confirmed. “Though you wouldn’t know it from talking to her. Sure, she worries about the mounting treatment bills and the chance of losing the battle, but she seems determined to stay positive.”

“Makes you almost want to dust off them shovels from last week and use ’em on that good-for-nothin’ she’s married to, don’t it?”

“There’s no
almost
about it, Margaret Louise.” Rose held her hand toward Tori, allowing it to be massaged. “But it’s not my place. All I can do is be a friend. Show interest in her gardening and her books and her soap operas so she knows someone cares.”

Gently, she kneaded Rose’s hand in an attempt to ward away some of the pain and stiffness that was slowly but surely threatening to rob the woman of a beloved hobby. “I’m glad she has you, Rose.”

“I’m glad I have her, too. She keeps my frustration and self-pity in check.”

Leona cleared her throat. “Do you really think Paris is, well, eating too much?”

Margaret Louise took Paris from her sister’s arms and turned the bunny onto its back in the crook of her arm. “He’s a little bigger ’n he used to be, that’s for plain sure, but I think Lulu might have been givin’ him table scraps the last time we stopped by for a visit.”

Melissa’s eyes widened. “Oh, Aunt Leona, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. That’s the day he managed to escape and I was beside myself with worry. Then … poof! He came when Lulu opened the back door. At that moment, I’d have given him caviar if he hadn’t been so smitten with the pretzel in Lulu’s hand.”

“And the one in her pocket,” Margaret Louise added.

“And the one in her pocket.” Leona pushed off the couch and carried Paris across the hardwood floor en route to the bedroom she was sharing with her sister. “He’s looking a little peaked right now. Perhaps a little rest would do him good.”

Rose opened her mouth only to slam it shut in response to Debbie’s stern eye.

When Leona was gone, Melissa let out a soft laugh. “If you’d told me two years ago that Aunt Leona would be gaga over a bunny, I’d have said you were crazy.”

Heads nodded around the room.

“I only give her a hard time about it because it’s fun. He really is a sweet little animal.” Rose tugged her hand from Tori’s grasp and smiled. “If it brings her peace and makes her feel less alone, I’m happy for her. I really am.”

It was the closest thing to affection she’d heard from Rose where Leona was concerned. Though even Tori knew it would be pushing it to ask her to repeat it when Leona was actually
in
the room.

Baby steps.

Tori returned to her seat as, one by one, heads bowed toward the project at hand, the whir of the portable machines and the snip of scissors the only audible sounds in the room as each member of the sewing circle slipped into their own thoughts.

Tori studied her friends, wondering what each was thinking as they set about the task of making comfort pillows for women like Lynn, women who were fighting for their lives.

Was Georgina pondering the next event on her official calendar or was she thinking about something more personal?

Was Rose in pain? Was she afraid of the age-induced changes that seemed to be overtaking her body almost daily?

Was Melissa thinking about Jake and the kids? Wishing she could kiss them all good night?

Was Margaret Louise dreaming up her next great culinary masterpiece? Or concocting her next outing with Jake and Melissa’s brood?

Was Beatrice homesick for England? For people more like her?

Was Debbie juggling Colby and the kids’ schedules while mentally reviewing the bakery’s books?

It was anyone’s guess, really. Private thoughts were just that. Private thoughts. Yet when she cared about a person as much as she cared about each of these women, it was hard not to wonder. And worry.

“You okay, Victoria?”

She paused her needle-pulling hand in midair and grinned at Margaret Louise. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Why? What did I do?”

“Nothing. And everything.”

Margaret Louise chuckled. “Well isn’t that a mouthful of nothin’ I can understand.”

With her free hand, Tori reached across and patted Margaret Louise’s arm. “Trust me, it’s all good.”

“Is it?” Lowering her voice still further, Margaret Louise continued. “Because I see that worry in your eyes. It’s been there ever since Rose said what she said ’bout Jeff goin’ belly-up on the street.”

Her stomach churned at the image. “Do you think she could be right? Do you think someone could have done that
to
him?”

“Don’t see how they could. He was runnin’ when it happened.”

She considered Margaret Louise’s words, reality hitting like a one-two punch. “Tiffany Ann Gilbert was walking when she died. And she didn’t die of a heart attack, either.”

“That was different. She was poisoned. To keep her quiet.”

Tori closed her eyes against the image of the town sweetheart slumped against the Dumpster behind the library, the aftermath of the girl’s murder her worst nightmare. But Margaret Louise was right. There was
motive
to kill Tiffany Ann.

Then again, if what Rose had said held any credence, there was motive to kill Jeff as well.

Motive
and
a list of possible suspects.

The theme song from
The Andy Griffith Show
wafted its way up from the floor, the familiar tune bringing a whistle to Rose and Margaret Louise’s lips, and confusion to Beatrice’s brow.

“What on earth?” Debbie asked.

“That’s me.” Georgina leaned over and pulled her cell phone from her purse. “Or, rather, my secretary. If it was one of our councilmen, it would have played ‘Hail to the Chief.’ ”

Rose glanced at her watch. “Don’t these people know it’s Friday night?”

“They do. But it doesn’t matter. Mailmen may walk through rain and sleet and snow to do their job, but
mayors
? In a small town like Sweet Briar? We’re never farther than a phone call.”

“Ever?” Beatrice stared at Georgina with disbelief.

“Ever,” Georgina confirmed before consulting the now-silent phone and making a face. “Oh, fruit flies, I missed it.” A second, shorter jingle followed, prompting the woman to flip the phone open and press a few numbers. “She left a voice mail.”

Holding the phone to her ear, Georgina’s smile slipped from her face as she listened to her secretary’s message. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Margaret Louise demanded.

Georgina shook her head and pressed her free hand against her opposite ear to drown out any and all background sounds.

A hush fell over the room as Georgina continued to mumble the same words again and again until the moment she hung up the phone.

Rose leaned forward. “Georgina? What is it?”

Clutching the phone to her chest, Georgina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked past Rose and locked gazes with Tori.

“What—what’s wrong?” she stammered.

“It’s the library. There’s been a fire.”

She leaned her head against the seat back, the headlights of Georgina’s car illuminating the way to Sweet Briar. The last fifteen minutes at the cabin had been a blur of heart-pounding disbelief, harried repacking, and tentative good-byes. Everyone anxious to help, no one able to speak.

It was as if Georgina’s news had set life into a blender that alternated between slow motion and warp drive. Right now, it was on the slow setting and she could do absolutely nothing to change that fact.

Sure, Georgina could drive a little faster, probably even avoid a speeding ticket thanks to her title, but there was no sense swapping one tragedy for another.

Tori forced herself to take a deep breath, to ask the question she’d been dying to ask yet afraid to hear answered. “What happened? Do we know yet?”