Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (61 page)

“Coming up.”

Kit untied her sneakers, kicked them off, peeled off her wet thin socks, and stuffed them inside her shoes. After she pulled on the thick fluffy pair of athletic socks Ellen had been so thoughtful to lend her, Kit’s feet felt like they might actually have a chance of thawing out. “Much better,” she said to herself, then reached in her damp purse and dug out her cell phone. She pushed Regan’s number and held the phone to her ear.

Four rings later, Regan answered. “Kit, I was starting to worry. Where are you?”

“Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse . . .”

“Oh, no,” Regan said, laughing. “What happened?”

Kit explained.

“You’re at Pillow Talk? How funny. Jack just left for the grocery store. When he gets back, I’ll come get you. In the meantime, have Ellen tell you the story of why they started that shop.”

“Regan, you don’t have to come get me. I’m waiting to hear from the mechanic. Hopefully my car will be fixed soon. Besides, I know you’re busy.”

“I’m not going to let you walk through the pouring rain again. And I’m not that busy right now.”

“What’s going on with everything?”

Regan gave Kit a quick summary. “I’d like to update Ellen before we hang up.”

“Okay. Just a minute, here she is.” Kit held up the phone. “Ellen, Regan would like to talk to you.”

Ellen placed a tray with a plate of cookies and a mug of hot tea in front of Kit, then took the phone from her. “Hi, Regan . . . Right . . . She lived in Chicago, huh? . . . We haven’t heard back from the woman who sent that e-mail either . . . Keep me posted . . . Thanks.” She handed the phone back to Kit.

“Hello again . . . Okay, Regan . . . sounds good . . . call me when Jack gets home.” Kit closed her phone. “Regan says I should have you tell me why you started Pillow Talk.”

Ellen’s eyes twinkled. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“The restrained or unrestrained version?”

“Unrestrained, of course.”

“I could tell. The way you laughed at my joke about Nathaniel Boone, I could tell. Pippy thinks I should tone down the way I talk about my ex-boss. But she’s not here at the moment, so . . .”

“I’m all ears,” Kit said as she poured milk in her tea. “Feel free to say whatever you want. Spare no details.”

“Okay then,” Ellen said with obvious delight. She sat at the table, placed her palms facedown, and looked Kit in the eye. “There I was, perfectly happy in my job selling makeup at a department store, when this complete moron walks up to my counter and tells me he wants to buy makeup for his mother. His mother!” She tilted her head, “You know that type of guy that . . .”

Within seconds, Kit was nodding in agreement.

Pippy drove along 5A for less than a minute before she switched on her left blinker, slowed down, and turned onto Woodsy Path, which Ellen said had been aptly named—aptly named, but hardly imaginative.

I love this street, Pippy thought as she drove slowly down the narrow, winding lane that was lined with overhanging trees. Each home along the way was shaded by evergreens, Roger’s being the last house on the right. The road dead-ended with a large wooded area and pond. When she turned into her cousin’s driveway, she shut off the car’s engine. For a brief moment she sat, listening to the rain and taking in her surroundings. I’m going to hate to move, she thought. We’ve been here during the cold and dreary months and enjoyed it. I can just imagine how terrific it must be to live here in the summer.

She got out of the car, hurried to the front door, and let herself inside. The living room was to the left, the dining room to the right, the kitchen and den area straight ahead at the back of the house. A staircase to the three bedrooms was two steps away.

I hate to move out of here, but we definitely need more room, Pippy thought. The dining-room table was covered with every
type of material, thread, and notion ever needed to make a pillow. Piles of sample pillows and boxes of cards they didn’t have room for at the store filled the living room. Ellen and I are going to have to find a house with at least one big room where we can keep everything organized.

She walked down the tiny hallway, opened the basement door, and turned on the light. She started down the steps, but a sudden noise made her stop and wait for a moment. What was that? Nothing, she finally decided and kept going.

As soon as she reached the bottom step, she started a quick survey of the room. Everything looked okay. The three small windows were fine. No leaks, no drips, no broken glass. No water under the door that led to the backyard. Great, Pippy thought as she hurried back up the steps and shut the door.

The clock read 4:30. When we close the store at six, I’ll go for that manicure, even though the weather stinks. After breaking that nail today, I definitely need it. She walked toward the kitchen, reached the island, then turned abruptly at a sound that seemed to come from upstairs. Her left elbow knocked over a glass vase filled with water, which started rolling off the counter. Pippy lunged for the vase, but it was too late. It dropped over the side of the counter and shattered on the tile floor.

I knew it! Pippy thought, angry with herself. This morning she’d thrown out the roses her parents had sent for her birthday a week ago, but she was in a rush. She’d left the vase on the counter, putting off washing it until after work.

Her heart racing, Pippy headed to the broom closet. No putting off that vase anymore, she thought as the wind rattled the front door.

Kit enjoyed every minute of Ellen’s story. “Reed Danforth had no idea what was in store for him when he approached your makeup counter. At least for you, it led to your success,” she said.

“But what if it hadn’t?”

“He’d really be in trouble. Shh—Pippy’s back.”

“I knocked that vase over,” Pippy cried as she hurried into the store. “That’s why I took so long.”

Ellen laughed and got up. She turned to Kit—“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’ll give Nathaniel Boone a call. I can’t believe I haven’t heard from him yet.”

She dialed his number. After eight or nine rings, he answered. “Hello.”

“Nathaniel?”

“Yes?”

“Nathaniel, this is Kit—I brought my car in earlier. My windshield wipers are broken . . .”

“I know. You told me.”

“Have you had a chance to take a look under the hood yet?”

“No. I just fixed the other car good as new and feel quite
proud. I’ll reward myself with a snack, then get started on your jalopy.”

Broken windshield wipers do not a jalopy make, Kit thought. “Okay, great. Would you call me when you have an idea of how big the job is?”

“Every job’s big. Every job’s important . . .”

Meet Nathaniel Boone, the philosopher, Kit thought.

“From fixing the transmission, to changing a tire, it’s all part of the whole. The whole car. A tire’s no good if you don’t have a transmission. A transmission’s no good if you have a flat tire. Get it?”

“I get it. Let me know how long it will take, would you please?”

“Okay. Bye.”

Kit exhaled, then called Regan.

“I wish I could come get you right now,” Regan said. “Jack isn’t back yet, which is surprising. They were only going to the market up the street. As soon as he gets here, I’ll leave. It should be any minute.”

“Thanks.”

But it wasn’t meant to be. The Brewers had asked Jack to take them to a specialty market three miles down the road for ingredients they couldn’t find at the smaller grocery store. While they were shopping at the second store, a tree fell on a main road, blocking it completely. Their detour home would be lengthy.

At a quarter of six, Pippy and Ellen were closing the store. Jack wasn’t home yet. Nathaniel Boone promised Kit’s car would be ready soon. Who knew what that meant?

“Do either of you know the number of a local cab company? I’ll go back and put the pressure on Boone.”

“Pippy’s going for a manicure,” Ellen said. “Why don’t you
come to the house with me, have a glass of wine, and as soon as the car is ready, I’ll drive you over.”

“Oh, Ellen, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. We’ll have fun. I’m sure you have a story or two to tell me.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hah! No one’s ever called me that before!”

As time passed, Regan became restless. She got up several times from the couch, where she’d been reading and watching television, when she thought she heard Jack’s car. She was anxious for Jack and the Brewers to return. So many thoughts were running through her head—if only I had a car to pick up Kit now. What would the news from Detective Lopez be? And how is Skip?

In the kitchen, she opened the drawer, found the Reillys’ address book, looked up Skip’s cell number, and called him. Fortunately, he answered. He didn’t sound happy, but he answered.

“Hello.”

“Skip, it’s Regan. How are you?”

“Swell.”

“Would you like to come to dinner?”

“No, thanks. I stopped by Fern’s today. She told me to come back later at closing time. I’m friendly with a couple of her waitresses. We’ll all have dinner.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Whoop dee doo.”

“Skip, please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’m trying. But it just happened this morning. I feel awful. You know how people say something hasn’t set in yet?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how I could feel worse. If this hasn’t set in yet, when it does, I’ll end up in the loony bin.”

“Oh, Skip. If there’s anything I can do . . .”

“There’s nothing anyone can do. I’m afraid to ask, but do you know anything about her family?”

“She was divorced last year and doesn’t have kids. I’m sure we’ll learn more before long.”

“Regan?”

“Yes.”

“Those apology cards . . . I keep thinking about that. Why were there so many? Who was she sending them to?

“Believe me, I’ve been wondering a lot about that myself.”

“She mustn’t have been as tough as she seemed.”

“You’re right, Skip. She probably wasn’t.”

He sighed.

“Skip, I hope we’ll see you again over the weekend.”

“I’m taking things a minute at a time. Besides,” he said, his voice slightly amused, “aren’t you and Jack supposed to be celebrating your anniversary? I brought in the breakfast food for you. Was everything okay?”

Regan hesitated. Should she tease him about the expired milk in the hopes he’d laugh? No, she decided. It’s not worth the risk if it backfires.

“Was everything I brought okay?” he asked again.

“Yes. Everything was terrific.”

“I’m glad.”

“Skip, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Regan closed her phone and walked over to the front window. At long last the reporter was gone.

Adele Hopkins will soon be yesterday’s news.