Clobbered by Camembert (32 page)

Oh, dear. I hoped she wasn’t going to do what she had done during a previous visit to the shop—pass out. I didn’t have any brown paper lunch bags on hand.

“What I”—Prudence drew in a deep breath, tapped on her toothpick-thin leg as if to regulate the intake, and exhaled—“what I heard.”

“What?” Rebecca said.

I prodded her not to encourage Prudence. The woman was an uptight authoritarian who rarely came into Fromagerie Bessette unless to spread rumors or make a fuss.

“The Harvest Moon Ranch has been sold,” Prudence blurted.

“Oh, no,” I said. That was the site for my pal’s wedding. It was a charming red ranch north of the city, with a gazebo and barn and acres of lush grounds. Would the sale cause a postponement?

“Oh, yes,” Prudence went on. “I was going to buy it.”

I didn’t believe her for a second. She was forever blustering about purchasing this and that. She considered herself a real estate mogul in the making. So far she hadn’t purchased a thing other than her dress shop, which was situated catty-corner from Fromagerie Bessette.

“Who bought it?” Rebecca said.

“That divorcée,” Prudence hissed, the word as distasteful as witchbane.

I didn’t have a clue who she meant.

“She snatched it out from under me. Why, I should—” Prudence gestured as if wringing someone’s neck but stopped when she spotted Urso, his head tilted, his steely gaze blazing at her. She blanched. “Oh, Chief, I didn’t see you there.”

How had she missed him? He was almost as large as a grizzly bear.

“I didn’t mean …” Prudence hesitated. “What I should have said … I’ll have my attorney speak to her attorney and—”

The door to The Cheese Shop swept open. The grape leaf–shaped chimes jingled.

With murder in her eyes, Prudence bolted toward the woman who entered. “You-u-u-u!”