Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,55

what happens on that river when you’re around.”

I overcharged her on the eggs. She didn’t notice.

Her husband, Grant, showed up ten minutes later.

“My Sweetie-poo is seriously upset,” he said.

I picked up a honey stick and held it out. “This should help with her condition. And a case of them might make a dent in sweetening her tart disposition.” Tart having two meanings in this case.

“Why can’t you be friends with her?” he asked. “That’s all she wants.”

Oh yeah, right. The poor mistreated schemer just wants to be friends.

Milly Hopticourt arrived with fresh bouquets for the flower bin, followed by P. P. Patti Dwyre, just the woman I needed.

“Patti, I’ve been hearing rumors,” I said. If anyone knew the gossip, Patti would, that is if there was gossip to know.

That perked her up. “Really!”

“About my ex.”

She flapped a wrist at me. “Common knowledge. Yesterday’s news.”

“About him and Grace Chapman.”

Patti’s eyes lit up. “What do you know? Let’s compare.”

“All I heard was that she and Clay had . . . you know . . . something going.”

Milly, still arranging bouquets, clucked in disapproval. “Grace is burying her husband this afternoon.”

“You’re right,” I said. “How tacky of me.”

Which it was.

Milly went on arranging the bouquets, tucking one here, moving one there, standing back and eyeing her work. Patti wandered off with a wink that said as soon as Milly left, we’d trade info.

She had to wait awhile because business stayed strong. When I had a chance, I opened a jug of the cider Ray had brought and set it out with little paper cups for customers to sample.

The phone rang a few times, and I had to let the answering machine pick it up. I needed to grow extra hands, or find more reliable help. Patti went outside and sat on a bench, determined to continue our conversation if she had to wait all day.

Some of the seniors who had been in the choir loft playing cards when the police chief took me away wanted to know the scoop.

“Vindicated,” I said. “The police chief was overreacting.”

“What do you think about that ex-husband of yours? Did he do it?”

“He’ll get his day in court.”

I should have gone into politics, I was so smooth at saying nothing. Not that I knew much. I hadn’t heard any updates on Clay’s situation or on the investigation into Faye’s murder, which I assumed would be ongoing. Johnny Jay had a suspect in custody but he still had to prove Clay did it.

Milly rounded up the seniors to all go out for corn on the cob, and they set off up the street—corn on the cob drenched in butter and salt sounded good, but I couldn’t leave the store. Instead I downed a handful of almonds.

My sister, Holly, finally arrived to help me. I let out a sigh of relief. “Eleven o’clock already?” I couldn’t believe where the morning had gone. My sister wore a white, low-cut V-neck tee with jeans, and rings the size of rocks on her fingers. Expensive-looking ones, too, compared to the sterling silver, twelve-dollar Celtic knot ring I wore on my right hand. I always noticed these things about Holly, and it annoyed me that I had such a jealous streak. I wasn’t exactly perfect, but I vowed on the spot to be a better sister and friend.

Holly sniffed. Either she was still angry, or I had leftover skunk smell on me.

“Can you smell skunk? You can, can’t you?”

“Only if I try.” Then she started laughing and wouldn’t stop.

“I don’t see any humor in the situation.” I bristled. “And you didn’t, either, last night.”

“You should have heard what Mom said on the phone to me this morning.” Holly wiped away tears. I was pleased to see that her mascara streaked—and I wasn’t going to tell her.

“I don’t want to know what she said.”

“K. It would only make you mad,” Holly agreed. “What should I do first here?”

“You have the hang of the cash register?”

“Like it’s my own.”

Which it sort of was, considering the fine print and the line I’d signed on.

“Then I’m going to sit outside for a few minutes. Get off my feet.”

Outside, Patti slid over and patted the bench.

“Milly’s right,” I said. “Today isn’t the day to dis Grace.”

“Funeral days are the biggest gossip days of the year,” Patti said. “That’s when the family’s past comes up for review. Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

Now that she mentioned it, I had. People liked to tell stories about the deceased and that involved stories