Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,31
living room. “Gosh, we looked so gaga over each other.”
“Gaga, huh?” she mumbled beneath her breath. “Isn’t that wonderful.” Taking a step back once again, she reached into the oven a second time, this time to retrieve a tray of piping hot dinner rolls.
Point One—Beth.
“It was, at one time. But, whatever, enough about that now. Anything new on the Ashley Lawson front?”
She set the tray of rolls on a hot plate then lifted the lid from the homemade mashed potatoes, transferring all to the china serving dishes she’d retrieved from the cabinet above the refrigerator. “No, not really, except I got a call from Regina Murphy yesterday.”
“What about?”
Slicing a few pieces of butter from the stick in front of her, she plopped them onto the potatoes and mixed them together, adding a sprig of parsley to the top. “She dropped a bracelet out on the grounds during Sally’s party the other night. She wanted to claim it.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.”
She shifted the brisket to a cutting board and began slicing. “Of course she took the opportunity to let me know my friends and I are killers.”
“All of you?”
“Essentially.” Piece by piece she moved the brisket to a delicately flowered serving platter. “Okay, Milo, you can come to the table now.”
“Music to my ears.” His footsteps sounded on the wood floor as he moved from the living room to the eat-in kitchen. The second he rounded the corner she felt the butterfly brigade take flight in her stomach just like always. “Whoa, candles?”
She looked at the table and nodded, her gaze riveted on the flames that danced atop their wicks. “I just felt like doing something special for you tonight.”
He crossed the kitchen and pulled her into his arms, his breath warm against her forehead. “You do special things for me all the time.”
“I hope so, I really do.” She stepped from his embrace and pointed at the table. “Take a seat. Everything is ready.”
Peeking over her shoulder, he inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, that smells delicious. My mom would love this.”
She smiled at the mention of Milo’s mom. It had only been a little over five months since she’d met Rita, yet in that time they’d grown close, brought together over their shared love for Milo and solidified thanks to their similar easygoing, people-pleaser personalities. Learning of their shared interest in sewing had simply been the icing on the cake.
“When will Rita be here again?”
“A few weeks. She wants to come for Heritage Days this year.”
Steeling herself for an answer she didn’t want to hear, she placed the brisket platter on the table and returned to the counter for the potatoes, rolls, and carrots. “Do you think Beth will still be here then?”
He grabbed hold of the serving platter and forked a few pieces of brisket onto his plate. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. She mentioned the other day that she can work remotely from just about anywhere.”
She placed the butter on the table then grabbed the wine bottle she’d placed in the center. At his nod, she poured the wine into the crystal goblet she’d set beside his plate. “Does your mom know Beth?”
“She does.” He handed the platter to Tori and then reached for the potatoes. “They met a few times during that year we dated. Beth met my father, too.”
“Oh.” For a moment she warred with the desire to ask the one question that still remained on her tongue, curiosity winning out in the end. “Um, was your mom sad when you broke up?”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling in short order. “I guess. She never really said much either way. But I can tell you this, she never gushed over her the way she does you.”
Tori grinned.
Point Two—me . . .
“I’m glad.”
Pausing his fork just shy of his mouth, he studied her closely. “You’re not worried about Beth, are you?”
She blew a rebellious strand of soft brown hair from her face only to watch it fall, undaunted, against her forehead once again. “I’m trying not to be, Milo. I really am. It’s just that Leona . . . Well, let’s just say she has a way of playing on insecurities I wasn’t aware I really had.”
He set his fork on his plate and reached for her hand, his touch calming her nerves instantly. “You’ve got nothing—absolutely nothing—to worry about, Tori. Putting my long gone romantic feelings for Beth in the same camp as my feelings for you is like trying to say hamburger