Part 9 (1/2)
”And it will be really good for Mom,” Samantha said. ”She can't keep sitting in the house doing nothing.”
”Well.” Cecily was thoughtful. ”I don't know. We're not giving her any time to grieve.”
”There isn't time, not if we want to keep our business.”
”Whoa, Scrooge lives.”
”Scrooge has to. Did she tell you Waldo let his life insurance lapse?”
”What? You mean-”
”She gets nothing. Nada. Zip.”
”The new house isn't paid off, is it?” Now Cecily sounded worried.
And so she should. Someone besides Samantha needed to be. ”Nope, and she's upside down on it.”
Cecily let out her breath. ”This is not good.”
Samantha agreed. ”The sooner you get here, the better, because Mom's not answering her phone.”
”Well, maybe she's out running errands.”
”No, she's in the house moping.”
”How do you know?”
”Because that's what she was doing last time I went over.” There was silence, and suddenly Samantha felt guilty. ”What?” she demanded, ignoring the little voice jeering, Rotten daughter, rotten daughter, rotten, rotten daughter.
”You're not cutting her much slack.”
Her sister was right and that made Samantha testy. ”There's no time to cut anybody any slack.”
”You've got a point there,” Cecily said diplomatically.
Darn right she did. Oh, who was she kidding? She was the world's biggest b.i.t.c.h. Her sisters should get her a dog collar for her next birthday.
She heaved a sigh. ”You're right. Mom needs a chance to grieve and I need to see a shrink.”
”Don't worry. We'll get you whipped into shape,” Cecily teased.
”I think it's hopeless,” Samantha said. ”I should go. I've got to get over to city hall and start things moving on the permits.”
”Okay. I'll be there by the end of the week.”
Samantha only hoped her sister wasn't closing shop on her account. ”Are you positive you want to do this?”
”Absolutely. You probably don't really need me, though. Knowing you, everything's under control.”
Even though she'd felt put-upon when her sisters left her holding the bag at Sweet Dreams, she had to admit she liked being in control. Except this was still a family business. Had she really made Cecily think she didn't need her?
That last thought came as a bit of a revelation. ”I need you to help me keep all these b.a.l.l.s in the air,” she said. ”And to keep me sane.”
”Well, I'm not sure about that last one, but I can help with the juggling.”
”Thanks,” Samantha said. ”Have I told you recently what a great sister you are?”
”No. But you're right. I am.”
She could hear the smile in Cecily's voice, and when she hung up she was smiling, too. She wasn't going to have to hold down the chocolate fort alone. Reinforcements were coming. She shot an email to Ed to let him know she was getting the permit process started, then grabbed her purse and coat and left her office.
”I'm off to city hall to apply for permits,” she told Elena, who had stopped a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish to ask where she was going. ”I shouldn't be long.”
Elena nodded and returned to her conversation, frowning and gesticulating madly. The waving arm and Spanish could only mean one thing-she was talking to her mother. Samantha was glad she'd be out of the office for a while. It always took Elena at least half an hour to calm down after one of her mother-daughter chats.
What was it about moms? They could be a girl's best friend one minute and her worst enemy the next. Your mother was never your enemy, she reminded herself. Mom wasn't psychic; she couldn't have known how things were going to turn out. She'd been nothing but supportive all of Samantha's life. Well, until Waldo.
Samantha frowned. And there was the rub. She'd resented Mom's decision to put him in charge then and she still resented it, even now that he was gone.
I do need a shrink, she thought as she made her way toward the end of Center Street, where Icicle Falls City Hall and the police department were located. But she didn't have time for one now.
Priscilla Castro was on the front desk and she greeted Samantha with a superior smirk, her usual greeting for her former rival. In high school Samantha and Priscilla had battled each other over everything from grade point supremacy to boys. Priscilla's friends had called her Cilla. The other girls called her Prissy, which quickly got changed to p.i.s.sy. Samantha had beaten her out as cla.s.s valedictorian and-worse-taken the Miss Icicle Falls crown and the college scholars.h.i.+p money that went with it, leaving p.i.s.sy in the dust as third runner-up. p.i.s.sy got even by stealing Samantha's boyfriend, Neil Castro, right before senior prom. She wound up marrying Neil, who went to work in a fruit-packing warehouse in Wenatchee. Not exactly the catch of the century as far as Samantha was concerned. Or p.i.s.sy, either. They got divorced after a couple of years, something p.i.s.sy probably blamed Samantha for, too. If Sweet Dreams went under, p.i.s.sy would probably climb on the roof of city hall and crow. Long live high school.
”Hi, p.i.s.s...Priscilla,” Samantha said.
”Samantha, what brings you here?” p.i.s.sy's tone of voice added, Not that anyone wants to see you.
”I need permits for a special event and I figure you're the go-to gal,” Samantha said with forced pleasantness.
”Special event?” p.i.s.sy c.o.c.ked her head like the inquisitive crow she was. ”Who's doing a special event?”
”The Chamber.”
”This is the first I've heard of it,” p.i.s.sy said.
”Well, that's because it was just decided.” Samantha strove to keep her smile in place.
”Does Mayor Stone know?”
Del Stone, like p.i.s.sy, didn't like anything happening in town that he didn't know about. ”Not yet, but I'm sure Ed York will give him all the details. So, what do I need to fill out?”
p.i.s.sy handed over the appropriate form. It was a mile long. ”You can bring it back tomorrow.”
”You know, I think I'll take care of it now,” Samantha said sweetly. The sooner she got the process going, the better.
p.i.s.sy shrugged. ”Suit yourself. We close in ten minutes.” She sauntered off in the direction of the mayor's office to tattle, leaving Samantha at the counter.
Samantha had barely begun when Del Stone emerged from his office, a short stocky man who loved to pair crazy neckties with his conservative suits. Today he was sporting a black necktie featuring a leaping salmon and the caption Born to Fish.
”Samantha,” he greeted her, taking her hand and giving it a fatherly pat. ”How is your mother doing?”