Deadly Notions (4 page)

Tori closed her eyes, willed her mind to embrace the words she knew to be true. Just because Jeff had cheated on her during their engagement party didn’t mean Milo would break her heart as well. He wasn’t that kind of man.

“So tell us about this party you and Melissa are working on for Sally.” Rose settled back against her cushioned chair. “It sounds very clever.”

Grateful for the change in conversation, Tori removed the wooden box from her tote bag and set it on the table to her side, her hand returning to the bag for the pale yellow skirt she needed to hem. “I don’t want to duplicate what Melissa might have already told everyone . . . ” Her words trailed off as she looked around the room, her gaze skimming across her fellow sewing circle members—Georgina, the town’s mayor, Debbie, Leona, Margaret Louise, Beatrice, Dixie, and Rose. “Wait, where’s Melissa? Isn’t she coming tonight?”

Margaret Louise shook her head, her plump hand gripping a needle as it zipped in and out of a piece of eyelet draped across her lap. “When I stopped by to check on the young-uns, she was sittin’ at the table agonizin’ over the loot bags for Sally’s party. I tried to tell her the DVD would be enough but she’s convinced it won’t be. Not with Penelope Lawson there.”

“Did you say
Penelope
?” Dixie groused.

Stilling her needle beneath the eyelet, Margaret Louise transitioned to a nod.

“Sadly, Melissa is right,” Debbie interjected. “A DVD won’t be enough. Not for that little girl and her mother, anyway.”

“Last year? After the circus? Luke came home with a porcelain picture frame complete with a professional photograph of himself and the party girl atop the elephant.” Beatrice laid the pieces of a cowboy vest across her lap and set about the task of finding the perfect color thread, her soft British accent bringing a hush to the room. “And the year before that? He came home with a beach towel and his own blow-up pool.”

“And don’t forget the sandals, the beach ball, and the photo album complete with pictures from the party that were taken and developed before the children even left.” Debbie shot her hands above her head and stretched, her dirty blonde hair reaching halfway down her back. “That’s why I did Jackson’s birthday out of town this year. To escape the pressure.”

“Pressure?” Georgina peeked out from behind the machine once again. “Debbie, you are grace under pressure. Just look at the way you handle being a mom to Jackson and Suzanna, and a wife to Colby . . . all while running the bakery seven days a week.”

“A piece of cake compared to keeping up with Penelope’s mother. That’s pressure I can’t take.”

“Is she really that bad?” Tori asked. “I mean, truly?”

Debbie, Beatrice, and Margaret Louise nodded simultaneously.

“Just this morning at the bakery Caroline Rowen and Samantha Smith were talking about Sally’s party. They were saying how badly they felt for Melissa. How they’re glad they don’t have to jump through the annual party hoop for another few months.” Debbie rubbed at her left shoulder with her right hand and moved her head from side to side. “Wow, I must have spent too much time hunched over Melissa’s cake design this afternoon—my neck and shoulders are killing me.”

“What were they sayin’ about Sally’s party?” Margaret Louise looked up, her fingers poised around her needle.

Shrugging, Debbie picked up her own needle and thread and began working on the pale blue skirt she was making for her daughter. “They didn’t get to say much. Regina Murphy came up behind them in line and everyone shut up. Fast. Though, based on the way her brows furrowed, I imagine she heard enough. I only hope for their sake she doesn’t relay things back to Ashley.”

“If she does, their children are done.”

“Done?” Rose repeated, stealing the sentiment from the tip of Tori’s tongue.

“Done.” Beatrice shot a glance in Debbie’s direction, leading Tori’s eyes to follow.

“Beatrice is right. If you say or do anything to put Ashley’s daughter in a bad light, your child is blackballed from everywhere—scouts, the playground, school, everywhere. Happened to a little girl named Abigail about a year ago. Her mother made a comment about Penelope being pampered and that was it. Poor little Abigail was shunned from that day forward. Her family moved out of Sweet Briar just a few months ago.”

“Sounds to me as if Penelope isn’t any nicer than this hotshot mother of hers.” Dixie set her latest sewing project on her lap.

“She’s not,” Debbie stated matter of factly. “And trust me, I don’t like expressing a feeling like that about
any
child. Even one that belongs to
that
woman.”

Rose coughed to clear her throat. “Then I still say Melissa should have left her off the guest list.”

“She can’t. It would be like signing the death certificate on Sally’s social life if she did.”

Tori heard the gasp as it escaped her mouth. “But Debbie . . . they’re
children
. Having
birthday parties
.”

“Not if they’re the same age as Penelope Lawson.”

If Tori didn’t know any better, she’d have thought someone called an emergency meeting of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle.

At her library, no less.

But she
did
know better. The troops had simply assembled in a show of support for one of their own—support Melissa would have appreciated had she been aware of its presence.

Which she wasn’t.

Instead, their fellow circle member was running between the children’s room and the picnic tables outside, attending to every birthday party detail imaginable. Balloons were suspended in trees, streamers hung from branches canopying the party table, red tablecloths had been cut and attached at the seams to create a red carpet effect from the parking lot to the children’s room, makeshift spotlights were pointed at the tiny stage where children would act out their favorite stories, and Colby Calhoun’s video player was poised on its tripod in anticipation of the stellar performances Sally Davis’s party guests would undoubtedly give.

“Land sakes, that child is fixin’ to have a nervous breakdown,” Margaret Louise declared as she huffed and puffed her way through the back door of the library only to have Melissa turn midway down the hallway and head outside once again. “She’s here, she’s there, she’s all over the place. Heck, I think she’s even harder to keep up with than those seven grandbabies she and Jake have given me.”

“She’s stressed, that’s for sure, but I think she’s going to realize fairly soon that this is going to be one amazing little birthday party.” Tori peered into the children’s room, her excitement over the library addition she’d created rearing its head all over again. It didn’t matter that it had been in place for over a year, the newness still hadn’t worn off. Not for her, anyway.

She turned to Leona. “You sure you want to be here when the guests start arriving?”

“You might get chocolate or jelly smeared on that fancy schmancy suit of yours.” Rose pulled the flaps of her thin cotton sweater tighter against her body. “Chocolate can be tough to get out of silk.”

Leona drew back. “I’ll stay away from the cake.”

“Have you ever seen a five-year-old after they’ve eaten cake?” Dixie inquired as she looked around the children’s room, her gaze skimming the shelves that had been pushed to the side for the party.

“Why?” Leona roamed a questioning eye between Rose and Dixie. “What’s wrong with them?”

Rose snickered. “Perhaps we should simply let you wait and find out.”

“Isn’t that just like you, you old goat. Stir the pot and then run. Classic Rose Winters if I’ve ever heard it.” Leona sniffed, her off-white heels making a clicking sound on the tile floor as she spun around and headed toward the door, Rose’s gasp of indignation bringing an undeniable sparkle to her eye.

“Did you hear what that old biddy just called me?”

Tori shrugged innocently. “I’m not sure, Rose, I think I zoned out for a minute or two.”

“The heck you did.” Rose stamped her foot on the ground. “Why, I have a good mind to—”

Melissa breezed back inside, her cheeks red. “Has Debbie gotten here with the cake yet? The kids are going to be arriving in”—the woman’s face paled as she stole a glance at her wrist—“five minutes!” Grabbing hold of Tori’s left arm, Melissa began pumping it up and down. “They can’t come yet. I’m not ready.”

Tori slowed the movement of her arm by capturing Melissa’s hand with her right. “Melissa, relax. Everything is more than ready. The stage looks great. The costumes are hanging on the little portable rack Jake assembled. And the decorations you’ve made couldn’t be more perfect.” She bobbed her head to the left to capture Melissa’s worried eyes. “It’s going to be okay. Great, even.”

“But the cake . . .”

Margaret Louise strode across the room, her boisterous voice taking on a soothing quality. “You don’t want the cake here too soon. Otherwise it won’t be a surprise when it’s time for the kids to sit down.”

“But what if the design I gave Debbie didn’t work?”

“It’ll work,” Tori assured. “Debbie is amazing with her cakes, Melissa. You know that.”

Inhaling sharply, Melissa nodded. “I do. And you’re right . . . both of you. I need to relax. It’s just that I want everything to be perfect.”

“It is,” Tori, Margaret Louise, Rose, and Dixie said in unison.

Flopping into a nearby child-size chair, Melissa dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t want to disappoint Sally. Molly is a wonderful baby but she’s certainly claimed a lot of Sally’s mommy time.”

“Sally is fine. She loves that baby. And she loves you.” Margaret Louise waved her hands in the direction of the stage and the parted curtain of balloons Melissa had created. “And when that young-un sees this setup, she’s goin’ to be beside herself. Absolutely beside herself. You just wait and see.”

Melissa nodded again as she, too, ran a visual inventory across the room. “I suppose you’re right. I just hope . . . Oh, never mind.” Shaking her head, the woman rose to her feet, the first sign of a smile beginning to nudge her lips upward. “You’re right. This evening is about Sally. And as long as she’s happy, nothing—and
no one
—else matters.”

“Mommy, Mommy, I’m here!”

They all turned as Sally pushed open the back door and ran inside. Dressed in a baby pink pinafore-style dress with a white frilly blouse, the birthday girl stopped just inside the door of the children’s room and clapped her hands together. “Wow! Wow! Wow! I’m gonna have the bestest birthday ever!”

Tori grabbed hold of Melissa’s arm as the woman dropped back down to her chair, relief moistening her eyes. “See?” she whispered. “It’s going to be great.”

“Thank you.” Melissa reached outward and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “So you like it?”

“I do! I do!” Sally hopped from one patent leather shoe to the other, her curly pigtails bouncing above her shoulders. “When does everyone come? When does everyone come?”

“How about right now?” Margaret Louise asked as she winked at her granddaughter and pointed toward the door.

Sure enough, in walked a smattering of five-year-olds led by Jackson Calhoun. “They’re here! They’re here!” Sally shouted, her smile threatening to split her face in two. “Mommy, they’re here!”

The children milled around, oohing and ahhing over the balloons and the carpet, their anticipation for the party contagious. “Looks like it passes muster to me.” Rose nudged her chin toward the handful of children. “Seems a shame Melissa had to worry so much for nothing.”

“You haven’t met the reason yet. When you do, you’ll understand,” Margaret Louise explained.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone here to greet the party guests?”

Heads turned toward the door once again as a woman, dressed in a pair of white silk pants and matching silk top, stepped into the library. On her heels was a little girl with the same strawberry blonde hair and high cheekbones as the woman. She, too, had ocean blue eyes and an upward turn to her nose, yet was dressed in clothes more befitting her age if not the event.

Dixie squared her shoulders. “Why is
that
one here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“That’s Penelope,” Margaret Louise whispered. “The spawn of the woman who is single-handedly responsible for Melissa not sleeping this past month.”

“Not that nasty little thing,” Dixie snapped. “The bigger one.”

“That’s Penelope’s mother, Ashley Lawson.”

“I didn’t realize ya’ll were talking about
that
Ashley the other night.” Dixie narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze from Margaret Louise back to the topic at hand. “And I certainly had no idea she went with that hateful little thing.”

“Good heavens, what is that child dressed in?” hissed Rose as she leaned her head forward to afford a better view. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think that child was wearing cash—she
is
! She’s wearing cashmere!”