The Long Quiche Goodbye (15 page)

I reached the front walk leading to the baby blue Victorian that was left to Meredith by her grandparents. The leggy rosebushes required pruning. The chipped porch begged to be sanded. The roof sagged and looked in need of new shingles. The gate hung open, the hinge busted. This was not the house of a wealthy woman.

Jordan braced me by the shoulders. “Don’t go up there, Charlotte. You’ll regret it.”

“I need answers.”

Meredith’s car stood in the driveway. She was home.

“You’re feeling the pressure of opening the shop and having your grandmother under house arrest,” Jordan said. “Stand down for a moment. Give this a little thought.”

I shook free of Jordan, skirted around the broken gate, and strode up the walk. The front door stood slightly ajar. I rang the doorbell.

No one answered. I didn’t hear movement.

A flurry of panic cut through me. Had someone stolen into Meredith’s house? I opened the door wider and peered around the edge. No one lay in wait behind the door. The study and hall to the kitchen were empty.

“Don’t do it, Charlotte!” Jordan charged up the path.

“She could be in danger. The door’s open.”

“The lock might be damaged, that’s all,” Vivian said. “Listen to Jordan.”

I stepped into the foyer and heard voices. Coming from upstairs. It sounded like Meredith was trying to speak but someone was hushing her.

Fueled by adrenaline, feeling sure that Jordan and Vivian would run in after me, I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

CHAPTER 16

I thrust open Meredith’s bedroom door and came to a grinding halt. I stared at the brass bed in utter shock. A flush of mortification coursed through me.

Meredith shrieked and yanked the rim of the floral bedspread to her neck. My cousin Matthew sat beside her, bare-chested, his lips pressed together, his shoulders shuddering. Not with fear. With laughter.

“You’re . . . you’re . . .” I sputtered, heat rushing up my neck and into my cheeks. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry, I . . .”

Jordan and Vivian arrived and peered over my shoulders.

“What the—?” Jordan breathed heavily in my ear.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so,’” I whispered.

He didn’t. Instead, he slunk quietly back into the hallway. I heard his footsteps retreating down the stairs and felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. My rashness might have just cost me a relationship with Jordan. Vivian remained steadfastly to my right.

“Guess it’s no longer a secret, huh?” Meredith pulled strands of her tawny hair around her face, then laid her arms on top of the covers, the sheet still snug around her curves. “We were trying so hard to . . .” She glanced at Matthew, love obvious in her gaze. “We’ve been together for a while.”

“You read her poetry?” I blurted.

“A rose, by any other name . . .” Matthew chuckled.

Meredith elbowed him. “Stop laughing.”

He tried, but failed.

“We worried about the girls,” Meredith went on. “We didn’t want them to think that I was acting friendly with them simply because I liked their father. I wanted to build my relationship with them slowly. Get them to trust me. They had such a bad row of it, because of their mother. And if this doesn’t work out between us—”

“It will,” Matthew said. “It has.” He weaved his fingers through hers. His thumb caressed her forefinger with tenderness. “This is the real deal.”

How could he be so sure? He had only known her a month. How could he possibly know that their love was going to last forever? He was way too quick with his affections, in my humble opinion, but that wasn’t what bothered me most. Was I going to lose my friend? Had I? To my cousin?

Silence filled the room. I shifted feet.

Vivian whispered, “Perhaps I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

I gripped her arm and made her stay.

“Why are you here?” Meredith asked, curiosity replacing laughter.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to tell my best friend that Rebecca and Vivian had suspected her of murder, but I didn’t want her to think I was checking up on her and my cousin, either. Red-hot embarrassment crept up my neck and into my face.

Vivian said, “Ed Woodhouse had a lover who was his partner in some unsavory real estate investments. Supposedly Ed lavished gifts upon her, and when I saw you at the jewelry store, and you avoided me—”

“You kept ducking us,” I blurted. I couldn’t let Vivian take all the blame. I was the one who had led the march to Meredith’s house.

“You thought I was Ed’s lover?” Meredith’s free hand flew to her mouth, knuckles against her lips. Her cheeks grew pink. After a moment, realization set in and she let her arm fall to her lap. Her gaze turned to hurt. “You thought I killed him?”

“Not Charlotte. Never Charlotte,” Vivian said.

“Ed was old enough to be . . . I would never . . .” Meredith drew in deep, rolling yoga breaths. “Never . . . oh, my.”

“I gave her the jewelry,” Matthew admitted. “My ex—” He ground his teeth together. “She ran off with everything I had given her. My mother’s jewelry. I wanted Meredith to know how much I cared.”

Meredith fingered the chain that hung around her neck. She’d replaced the sapphire necklace with a pretty silver one that held a heart-shaped charm. “This was what I was picking up at the jewelers. Matthew had it engraved. Inside it says, ‘I promise.’”

“A promise is the best I can do for now.” Matthew swiveled in his spot and grabbed Meredith’s other hand. “I promise to be loving, honest, and good in—”

Meredith elbowed him. He grinned, then they both broke into laughter, a joyous sound that eased the tension in the room. I could breathe again.

“Charlotte.” Meredith sobered. “I’m sorry for dodging you. If I hadn’t, none of this . . . I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who should. It’s my fault for letting them all jump to conclusions. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course. We have too many years between us.” Meredith smiled. “For the record, Vivian, at the time of the murder, I was behind The Cheese Shop kissing Matthew. I heard a scream. I told Matthew to return inside, and I ran to the front of the shop.”

“I protested,” Matthew said.

“But I’m trained in self-defense,” Meredith countered. She had encouraged me to take classes with her and her fellow elementary schoolteachers.

I turned to leave, eager to get away so I could castigate myself without a crowd.

“Wait, Charlotte, what about the girls?” Meredith said. “You won’t tell them, will you?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “You tell them in your own time. My lips are sealed.”

Meredith and Matthew’s giggles followed me as I descended the stairs, and I felt a pang of jealousy. What I wouldn’t give for a little taste of love. I thought of Jordan and hoped he was waiting outside so we could talk, but he wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” Vivian said. “I never should have assumed—”

“It’s not your fault. Rebecca fueled the fire, and I let her. Let’s put it behind us.”

As Vivian and I returned outside, thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon as if preparing to wage another attack. I hoped the rain would hold off until after dark. I needed a little reassuring sunshine. We headed back toward the center of town, the twittering of thrushes and warblers replacing conversation, until I decided to broach another subject that had been eating at me since talking with Pépère.

“Vivian, my grandfather mentioned seeing you and Ed arguing in your store the night before he was killed. It’s none of my business, but—”

“It’s a long story, but it was about my lease.” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Ed could be such a toad about what was important to me . . . to my future.”

“He told you about the sale?”

She gave a curt nod. “I’ve pleaded with Kristine to put in a good word for me with the new owner, but she refuses.”

“Someone bid on our building. Was it you?”

“If only I had that kind of cash.”

“Do you know who bought yours?”

She shook her head. “I could strangle Kristine, she’s so tight-lipped.”

“Perhaps it’s Ed’s partner, this lover the tour guide mentioned?” Who, thankfully, was not Meredith.

“For all we know, it could be Kristine pulling a fast one. Maybe she bought out Ed before he died, to get everything in her name in case creditors came calling on him.”

“And then he was killed—”

“—which means she wouldn’t have been after his money.”

I nodded. “But as Rebecca said, jealousy could be a driving factor.”

We reached the front of the shop, and Vivian pecked me on the cheek. “Please don’t think ill of me. I hate gossip and, well, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I’m relieved to know the truth.”

“The truth shall set you free,” she said in a tone a revivalist could appreciate, then trotted toward Europa Antiques and Collectibles, her purchases swinging on her arm.

Matthew returned to the shop around five P.M. with an easiness about him that had been missing since we took over the shop. He didn’t mention a thing about my intrusion at Meredith’s. I sure as heck didn’t intend to raise the issue again.

Soon after, three regional wine representatives arrived, two men and one woman. Matthew had invited them to give mini-seminars on the evening’s twelve wine selections. Matthew guided them from wine station to wine station, sharing his thoughts on how to best present the wines. He set out cards he had prepared with wine reviews and pairing suggestions as he roved.

While they waxed poetic about wine, I returned to the cheese counter. “Rebecca, are you ready?”

She gave me a thumbs-up. “Your grandfather is in the kitchen.”

I had told Pépère he didn’t have to come in, but he said Grandmère had ordered him out of the house. Apparently, she and the twins were going to watch a chick flick and then dance the night away.

At six P.M., I strode to the front door and braced it open with a cheese-wedge-shaped doorstop. The cool evening breeze swept inside, as did a handful of townsfolk and tourists.

Delilah moseyed in with Freckles, and they strolled directly toward the tasting room.

The oldest wine rep, an overly-suntanned man from California, greeted them at the arch and directed them to his station.

Meredith sauntered into the shop and pinched my arm affectionately. “Bygones?”

“Bygones,” I said. “I’m so sorry—”

She put her finger to my lips. “No more sorries. Say, I spied Jordan over your shoulder at the house. Are things going well in that department?”

“Not well at all.” I told her about Mystery Woman.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation. I saw the way he looked at you at the gala. He’s interested with a capital
I
.”

I
as in iceberg, I thought. Especially after the day’s fiasco.

“Charlotte,” Pépère approached. “People are asking for you.”

Meredith kissed my cheek, then left me to track down Matthew.

“What do they want?”

“To know how to tell a good Brie from a bad Brie.”

I tweaked his cheek. “Pépère, you are perfectly capable of educating them. After all, you are my Yoda.” By the age of seven, I knew ripeness was key to selecting a soft-rinded cheese. Pépère had provided a great example of an overripe Brie that was runny and reeked of ammonia. I hadn’t thought my nose would ever revive. The underripe Brie, which had been thick and chalky-white in the middle, had been much easier to stomach.

“They asked for you,” he said, his gaze wistful and heart-wrenching.

“Let’s both do it.” I tucked my hand in his and we ambled to the counter.

After ringing up the customers’ purchases, Pépère was once again whistling to himself. Hopeful that all would soon be right with the world, I went to check how the wine tasting was going.

“Charlotte, over here.” Delilah beckoned me to join her and Freckles, who was laughing so hard I thought wine might come out her nose.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Kristine,” Freckles said.

“Ever since the funeral, people just can’t seem to stop talking about her.” Delilah swept her curly hair over her shoulders. “And not in a good way.”

“Sip?” Freckles offered me her glass.

I tasted the white wine, a Groth sauvignon blanc, one of my favorites. It had just the right balance of citrus and melons.

“This would go perfectly with that salmon-mascarpone risotto recipe you gave me,” Delilah said.

Indeed, it would.

Freckles hitched her chin toward the arch. “Who’s the cute guy?”

“Which one?”

“With your protégé?” She chuckled.

Through the annex, I spotted the wine rep from New York talking to Rebecca, who was manning the register. Beyond them, I spotted Felicia sitting at the tasting bar. I was surprised to see her alone, without Prudence, Tyanne, or Kristine by her side. Kristine hadn’t set foot in the shop since the murder. Either she feared giving herself away with a furtive glance at the olive-wood-handled knife display, or she couldn’t bear to walk past the site of Ed’s demise. I figured it was option number one.

“That girl draws men like moths to the flame, doesn’t she?” Freckles said.

“Who? Felicia?”

“Rebecca. Haven’t you been listening?” Freckles eyed her glass of wine and giggled. “I’m the one who’s been drinking, not you.”

“That’s because Rebecca’s not intimidating,” Delilah chimed in.

“And you are?” Freckles batted Delilah on the shoulder.

“I hate to admit it, but yes, I am. I came home to Providence with hopes of finding my one true love. But in Providence, men can’t handle a woman as seasoned as me.” She tapped her glass to Freckles and took a sip. “Charlotte, you’re the same, right?”

I didn’t think of myself as seasoned. I hadn’t traveled the world other than my few trips to France and Italy with Pépère. But I was passionate about my job. I devoted more hours than I had in a day to it. Was that why Jordan kept his distance? I would have sworn that our mutual affection for cheese had created a bond between us. But how would I know? I couldn’t stand outside myself and see what others saw. Perhaps Jordan thought I was intimidating. Perhaps he wanted someone more available. Like Mystery Woman.