Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,3
shipped in, along with an internationally known sand artist who shared some of his tips with the bucket and shovel crowd.”
“A sand artist?”
Again, Melissa nodded. “And the year before that? Well, that was the year the kids went through stations complete with a professional storyteller, the country’s top balloon artist, and none other than Barney the dinosaur. Flown in from Texas, no less.”
“Um . . . how?” It was all she could think to ask.
Pushing the rejected books to the side, Melissa shrugged. “I have no idea. But nothing is ever too good for Penelope.”
Tori racked her brain for a name to go with the face. “Is she the one with the heart-shaped face and blonde curls?”
“That’s the one. She always threatens to tell her mom if someone so much as looks at her crooked.”
“Okay, I know who she is. She accused Jackson of cheating today in story time. And, just as you said, she claimed she’d tell her mom.”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “That’s not a surprise. She’s not the kind of little girl most kids want to befriend. Not by choice, anyway.”
“So why do you have to invite this little girl?”
“Because Sally would be blackballed if we didn’t.”
Tori felt her mouth gape open. “Blackballed?”
“Blackballed,” Melissa repeated. “Not that she won’t be anyway if I have a party consisting of homemade birthday cake and pin the tail on the donkey.”
“But that’s what a kid’s party is supposed to be. That’s what you did for Lulu and her classmates loved it.”
“I repeat . . . Lulu doesn’t have to invite Penelope Lawson. Sally does. Which means I need to come up with something. Something creative and different that won’t result in Jake and me splitting the blanket over the expense.”
“Splitting the blanket?”
“Getting divorced.”
“Like that would happen.” She reached across the table and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Jake adores you. You know that.”
“But to throw Sally the kind of party I need to throw is going to cost money. Money we don’t have.”
“What does Margaret Louise say?” she asked, surprised that Melissa’s mother-in-law hadn’t stepped in already. “She usually has great ideas.”
“Oh, she has a great one all right. Only strangling Penelope’s mother and stuffing her in a closet isn’t the most viable option.” Melissa brought her hand to the base of her neck and widened her eyes in theatrical fashion. “ ‘My daughter’s dress touched what? Take it away . . . I can’t have that touching her skin. It might be bad for her complexion and overall scores.’ ”
Tori couldn’t help it, she laughed, the sound bursting from her lips before her surroundings registered her faux pas. Leaning across the table, she lowered her voice to a more acceptable level despite the momentary lapse in patrons. “What are you talking about?”
“Beyond the fact that precious Penelope is a pageant kid, her mother, Ashley Lawson, is Regina Murphy’s head designer and she’s apparently very good at what she does.”
“Regina Murphy? I’m not sure I know who that is.”
“Tall leggy blonde, wears tailored pantsuits to go jogging”—Melissa met her gaze for any sign of understanding—“lives on the eastern side of town . . .”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met her.”
Melissa waved away her confusion. “Anyway, Regina owns Pageant Creations—a company that makes and sells little girls’ dresses specifically designed for pageants.”
“Oh, okay. That’s what Beth does, too. Only I think her company’s name is Spotlight something or other.”
“Who’s Beth?” Melissa mumbled as she flipped open yet another party book.
“Milo’s college sweetheart. She’s coming into town later this week for some sort of business meeting and wants to get together with him.”
Melissa glanced up at the slight shake in Tori’s voice. “Are you worried?”
“Beth was years ago. If he felt that strongly for her, he wouldn’t have married Celia, right?” It was the same mantra she’d been telling herself all week. A mantra she hadn’t questioned until he’d pulled out a few old photographs after dinner one night.
One look had told her everything she didn’t want to know. Beth Samuelson was drop-dead gorgeous. And, based on the stories he’d shared while flipping through the photographs, she’d been Milo Wentworth’s first true love. The one who’d broken his heart and drove him into the arms of his late wife.
“Makes sense. Besides, Milo is crazy about you. Everyone knows that.” Melissa flipped through another page or two before closing the book with a resounding thud. “You know something? Margaret Louise’s idea looks better all the time. It would certainly make pin the tail