Reap What You Sew (20 page)

It took a moment or two to identify the low rolling booms, but after ruling out a defective car and her own stomach as culprits, Tori swung her feet onto the floor and stretched. Somehow, someway, despite everything that had been plaguing her thoughts when she’d climbed into bed, she’d found a way to sleep, exhaustion pulling a surprising victory from its battle with worry. And she was grateful. Worry tended to multiply in the face of sleep deprivation and she had more than enough without adding fuel to the fire.

Slipping her toes into waiting pink slippers, Tori padded into the kitchen, the promise of a hot chocolate helping to wipe away any residual sleepiness. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she moved about the room in a familiar dance—heat water, prepare mug, pour water, stir contents, top with whipped cream.

Slowly but surely, she’d become somewhat of a routine person since moving to Sweet Briar. On work days, the morning ritual was followed by a second hot chocolate from Debbie’s, one she sipped while completing her walk to work. On weekends, the morning ritual tended to include a second cup from Debbie’s as well, only
that
one tended to be hand delivered to her doorstep by an impossibly attractive man carrying a bag of still-warm croissants and hand-dipped chocolate donuts… .

Her stomach gurgled.

A clap of thunder answered.

Wrapping her left hand around her favorite mug, Tori leaned over the sink and peered out the rain-spattered window into her backyard. As much as she’d been looking forward to a sun-filled day off, the mums Rose had talked her into planting needed a little help in the water department. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and contemplated the mental to-do list she’d compiled in the wake of her last day off.

1.
Clean.

2.
Help Rose rake.

3.
Lunch with Milo and Rita to talk about a wedding date and location.

It had been a good list. But, like all to-do lists made a week in advance, outside factors had come into play and wreaked havoc, making the first two items far less important than they’d once been, and virtually wiping the third item from her radar until Milo had forced it back into play. Now, she just had to pray she could keep the notion of murder suspects and deadly brownies from her thoughts long enough to picture the day she’d officially become Mrs. Milo Wentworth.

While no formal plans had been set in place yet, she’d certainly done her fair share of dreaming. Sometimes she imagined an outdoor ceremony, in the middle of the town square. Sometimes she imagined an evening reception on the library grounds, tiny white holiday lights making the moss trees sparkle and shimmer. But no matter how many locations she fantasized about, two facets of her wedding day remained the same—the cake and the wedding party.

The cake had been a no-brainer, especially when Debbie had offered to make the tiered showcase the moment she learned Tori had accepted Milo’s proposal. The only thing left to do in that regard would be to select the cake’s filling.

Deciding on the female members of the wedding party had been fairly easy, too, though finding dresses that worked on twenty-and thirty-somethings like Beatrice, Melissa, and Debbie
and
sixty-, seventy-, and eighty-somethings like Margaret Louise, Leona, Rose, Georgina, and Dixie was sure to be a challenge.

A staccato knock at the back door made her jump. Glancing at the clock above the stove, Tori couldn’t help but smile, her heart rate settling into its familiar Milo-induced pitter-patter.

Time for croissants…

She crossed to the other side of the kitchen and yanked the door open, the smile slipping from her mouth at the sight of the burly man standing on her back stoop.

Police Chief Robert Dallas clasped the lip of his hat between his thumb and index finger and tipped his head forward. “Miss Sinclair.”

Unsure of what to say, she stood there blankly for a moment as rainwater dripped from his uniform.

“Mind if I come in for a moment? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded and stepped backward. “Uh, sure. I guess.”

“I suppose if I had to cancel my fishing trip on account of work, this kind of rain ain’t such a bad thing.” Chief Dallas stopped just inside the doorway and wiped his feet on the mat. “Makes me feel less cheated, I guess.”

Tori reached around the chief and shut the door, every mental radar device she possessed pinging a warning signal inside her brain. “What can I do for you, Chief?”

The chief’s eyes hesitated on the mug of hot chocolate in her hand. “Am I interrupting your breakfast?”

She doubled her hands on her heart-shaped mug and shrugged. “Not exactly.” She knew she should offer him a cup of hot chocolate as well, but she couldn’t. She’d been on the receiving end of Chief Dallas’s surprise visits more times than she cared to count. “So what can I do for you?” she repeated.

“Seems there’s been another murder in town.” The chief reached up, pulled his hat from his head, and tucked it under his arm.

“Oh?”

Narrowing his eyes, he studied her closely. “Seems as if Anita Belise was murdered.”

She swallowed, then repeated her one-word inquiry, her voice a bit more squeak-like the second go-round. “Oh?”

“Seems someone gave her food with nuts in it despite the fact that she was deathly allergic to them.”

“That’s awful,” she managed to eke out.

Chief Dallas pointed at her hands. “Is something wrong, Miss Sinclair?”

She glanced down, saw the liquid moving inside her mug, and quickly set it on the nearest counter. “No. Nothing is wrong. I guess I’m just a bit chilled from the door being open just now.”

“It’s seventy degrees out.”

Busted.

“I—I guess I’m not sure why you’re here. Shouldn’t you be questioning people on the set?”

“I spent all of yesterday doing just that,” the chief explained, his eyes never leaving her face.

“And…” she whispered.

“And, just like always, my car essentially steered itself here. To
your
house, Miss Sinclair.”

“I didn’t know Ms. Belise.” It was a lame response but it was all she could think to say. And besides, it was the truth.

“But you knew about her allergy, yes?”

“I—I guess so, yes. It was mentioned a time or two this past week.”

“Did you share that information with anyone?” he asked.

All she could do was nod. And swallow.

“Who might that have been?”

She glanced at the hint of whipped cream still evident in her mug and sighed. If she answered the man’s question, she’d essentially be throwing Leona under the bus. To not answer him might make matters worse.

Chief Dallas simply waited as she weighed her options, the steely glint in his eyes making her more than a little wary. She shot her hands behind her back as they began to tremble once again. “I mentioned it, offhand, to Leona Elkin.”

“You mean, Pooky?”

Crap. He’d done his homework.

She forced a smile to her lips. “She was looking for a way to have some alone-time with Warren Shoemaker.”

“And you felt that Ms. Belise’s allergy provided a way to achieve that alone-time?”

“If nuts were in the room, Anita would be forced to stay away,” she explained with a voice she hoped sounded as carefree and light as she intended.

The chief nodded ever so slightly. “These brownies… Where did they come from?”

Carefree and light became a bit shaky. “She made them.”

The man’s left eyebrow rose half an inch. “
Leona Elkin
made them? You mean the same Leona Elkin who calls the station every so often because she misses a digit when she’s calling for takeout?”

She silently cursed Sweet Briar’s size.

“She—she solicited some help.” It was all she could think to say as her mind raced ahead for contingency plans.

“From whom?”

“From whom?” she echoed.

“That’s what I asked.” Folding his arms across his chest, Chief Dallas waited for Tori’s response, the steely glint now reminding her of a wild animal stalking his prey.

She considered a variety of responses, but, in the end, she went with the truth. He’d find it out eventually, anyway. “Margaret Louise made them for Leona.”

“Did she know about Ms. Belise’s allergy?”

That was a good question. One she couldn’t answer with absolute certainty and she told him so.

Chief Dallas reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a small notepad and pen. Flipping it open, he jotted something down then looked up at Tori once again. “Do you know how one of the brownies ended up in Ms. Belise’s hands?”

This she could answer without hesitation or worry about repercussions. “No! And neither does Leona.”

He pinned her with a stare. “So the two of you have already discussed all of this?”

She nodded. “I wanted to get to the bottom of things.”

Leaning forward, Chief Dallas paused his face mere inches from Tori’s. “That’s
my
job, Miss Sinclair, remember?”

Tori took in a deep breath only to release it through pursed lips, images of Chief Dallas and his job capabilities playing through her mind and bringing her to the only response that fit.

“I remember, Chief Dallas. Do
you
?”

There were many times in life she wished she had a remote control, with Rewind and Skip being her preferred features. But if given a remote control at that very moment, she’d choose a split screen feature with the ability to pause one side.

If she had that, she could pause the part of her brain that was neurotically picking apart every word Chief Dallas had uttered while standing in her kitchen and focus, instead, on the part with Milo and his mom smiling at her from a corner table inside the Red Mill Inn.

“Tori, you’re here.” Milo rose from his chair and met her as she approached, his gentle kiss on her forehead making her feel more than a little guilty. “I was getting worried something had happened.”

Torn between the desire to fib and to pour the contents of her unexpected morning all over him, she merely shrugged before turning her focus on the attractive gray-haired woman beaming at her like a lighthouse amid a storm. “Rita, it’s so good to see you.” She leaned over and planted a quick cheek kiss on Milo’s mom. “I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting for too long.”

Rita waved off Tori’s concern with a flick of her hand. “We’re just glad you’re here now. Sit. Sit.”

Milo pulled out the empty chair between them. “Yes, please. I ordered you a glass of water to start and the waitress will be back shortly to see what else you’d like to drink.”

She found a smile and flashed it in Milo’s direction. “Thank you.” Inhaling deeply, she willed herself to leave the last hour or so of her life behind temporarily and focus, instead, on planning for the future. “I’ve given some thought to the location for the ceremony but I’m at a loss for where to hold the reception. I want it to be nice, of course, but I also want to keep the cost down as much as possible.”

Rita nodded. “An autumn wedding in South Carolina certainly makes an outdoor event possible if that’s what you’d like. Though it might be wise to have a contingency plan in the event of a storm.”

She felt Milo’s eyes watching her and she rushed to erase any concern she sensed there. “I think an outdoor wedding would be perfect.”

And she did. She just hoped she didn’t miss the big day because she was sitting in some South Carolina jail, labeled a murder accomplice.

Milo pulled his attention from Tori just long enough to address his mother. “Tori and I have batted around the notion of getting married on the Green. Perhaps at the gazebo?”

“That would be lovely.” Rita reached out, patted both of their hands with her own. “Would you want to have the reception there as well?”

She shook her head along with Milo. “No. But maybe the library grounds would work.”

“Either of our backyards could certainly be an option as well, depending on how many folks we invite.” Milo gestured toward a sheet of loose-leaf paper resting on the table in front of Rita. “Is that a list of people we need to invite?”

“It’s a list of possibilities, son. Who is actually invited is up to you and Victoria.” Rita scooted the list in Tori’s direction. “This wedding needs to be the way you want it to be. I had my special day a long time ago.”

Oh how she wished she’d met Milo’s father. She’d heard so many lovely things about the man who’d raised her fiancé… .

“We know who’s going to make the cake,” Milo offered. “That’s going to come from Debbie’s Bakery here in town.”

“And I know that I’d like my sewing circle sisters to play a part in the ceremony.” Tori took a sip of water then placed her glass back on the table, shaking her head at the sound of Chief Dallas’s voice in her head. “Um… finding a dress that works on all of them may be a bit difficult, though.”

“You could always match by color rather than actual style,” Rita suggested.

She considered the idea. “That could work.” Closing her eyes momentarily, she tried to imagine her friends all dressed in a royal blue, each outfit chosen based on personality rather than a particular style. “Ooh, I like that idea very—”

A burst of laughter from a nearby table cut her off mid-sentence. Stealing a glance to the side, she froze.

There, less than ten feet to her left, sat three familiar faces. All happy. All laughing. All seemingly oblivious to the tragedy that happened right under their noses.

She felt her mouth gape, her body instinctively lean in their direction.

“Tori? Are you okay?”

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be sitting just a little closer…

“Tori?”

If she were, maybe she’d overhear something that might point Chief Dallas in the right direction… .

“If you’ll excuse me a moment, I think I’ll take this opportunity to use the ladies’ room, give you two kids a little time alone.” Rita’s voice, coupled with the feel of Milo’s hand on her arm, snapped her back to her own table and the fact she’d just checked out on her fiancé and his mom.