Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,9
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!”
Melissa jumped off her chair and shoved Sally forward in the child’s direction, nervous panic taking over where relief had been. “Ashley . . . Penelope . . . we’re so happy you made it.”
“We are?” Dixie hissed through teeth that were suddenly clenched.
Ashley Lawson looked past Dixie as if she wasn’t even there, her gaze traveling, instead, down Melissa’s choice of jeans and a cotton blouse before skipping to Sally’s birthday dress. “Happy birthday, Sally, don’t you look . . . quaint.”
Tori grabbed hold of Margaret Louise as the woman lunged forward. “Not now,” she whispered.
“I saw the little picnic table outside. Your paper products look so . . . cute, Melissa. So—so homey.”
Rose’s lips pursed.
Dixie’s mouth gaped.
Margaret Louise’s hands fisted at her sides.
“Did your Mommy and Daddy have your cake shipped in from Belgium, too?” Penelope asked as she swayed from side to side, her fingers holding out her royal blue dress as if it were made from spun gold. “They really do have the best chocolate, don’t they, Mother?”
Ashley smiled behind her flawlessly manicured hand. “They most certainly do, Penelope. But Sally’s cake won’t be shipped in from Belgium, precious. They can’t afford the kinds of things that Daddy—well, it’s just simply too costly.”
“Where is that cake?” Rose hissed beneath her breath.
Tori forced her