games blasting out. She supposed as long as Sunday football was king, things would remain the same.
She kept walking through the neighborhoods, getting a feel again for the town she’d once known down to her callused bare feet. She saw a new café on her right, June’s Eats, and thank goodness, it was open. She walked into an art deco movie set, beautifully done, with booths and tables, a long counter with stools, the open kitchen in the back. A pretty young woman stood behind the cash register, giving change to a customer. Pippa recognized her immediately. June Florio, her dad a banker in Annapolis, her mom a schoolteacher in Mayo. And now she owned a café? Amazing what paths people took. Look at Pippa, from lawyer to FBI agent. The place was popular, already filling up for lunch. There was a waiter tending to the dozen customers.
June looked up and smiled. “Can I help you?” The friendly smile changed to a dawning look of recognition. “Wait, I know you. Pippa—yes, that’s right, Pippa Cinelli. Goodness, I forgot how pretty you were. Welcome home.”
Pippa gave June Florio a big smile. “Thank you. What a beautiful café, and I love the black-and-white art deco squares on the floor. Were you at the party last night at Leveler’s?”
“You wouldn’t know it now, but last night I was Marie Antoinette. My husband, Doug, came as one of my lovers and draped himself all over me the entire night. As you can see, he’s not around. The idiot is home in bed, groaning. I was tempted to pour cold water over his head. Between moans, he said everyone would be hungover today after last night at Leveler’s Inn, and we should just stay closed. Happens every year. Look around, he was dead wrong.” She waved her hand toward the dozen or so people seated around the café. “Over there’s a big tub of cold bottled water, great for a hangover, in case you drank too much of that vodka pretending to be punch?”
Pippa smiled. “I didn’t have another drop after I saw yet another Einstein with electrified hair pour in a full flask of vodka. I’m out for a walk on this beautiful November day. Visiting all my old haunts.”
“Where do you live?”
“Down the road in Washington. This is a mini-vacation for me. It’s good to see you, June. So far, I’ve got to say, nothing much has changed.”
“No, nothing ever changes here. Well, except I’m married to the guy holding his head at home. I’m June Sweazy now. Do you remember Doug Sweazy? He was our running back in high school, had a smooth tongue, a great body?”
“I do indeed. He also had a great sense of humor, I remember. I had a crush on him.”
“Yeah, I did, too. I remember your dad. He was always so nice.”
“Thank you, I’ll pass it along.” Pippa looked down at her watch. Where had the time gone? She heard a man call out June’s name. “I’m keeping you away from your customers. Maybe I could have a tuna salad sandwich, and we can talk when you’re free?”
In short order, Pippa was eating her sandwich while June dealt with customers, smiling and friendly. In free moments, she asked June to tell her about what had happened in the seven years since she’d visited.
Not much, apparently. Pippa mentioned the puzzle store.
June shuddered, then grinned. “That place gives me the creeps. It’s fitting, I guess, since ‘creepy’ is in the name of Maude’s store. I’ve only been in there a couple of times. Now, if you ask me, Maude is on the strange side. She’s too obsessed with snakes and monsters. Wouldn’t that warp your brain?”
Pippa nodded. “She told me she helps people who want to make their own puzzles. I guess you’ve never done that?”
“Goodness, no, and I don’t know of anyone who has. She has a boyfriend, an older gentleman from around Annapolis. Every two weeks she closes her puzzle shop, and the two of them leave St. Lumis for a couple of days. It’s like clockwork. She always puts a sign in the window: Going on a short honeymoon. Where, I asked her once, and she only smiled and shook her head.”
That was interesting. Perhaps she could bring it up casually when she went back to the puzzle shop later in the afternoon. “I visited her puzzle store this morning. You’re right, ‘creepy’ is the perfect word for it.”