Part 7 (1/2)
”That was an excellent couple of sales,” Mr. Everett said, approaching the register with a tray of the store's cardboard coffee cups. ”We should celebrate.”
”I agree,” Tricia said, grateful for the opportunity to cheer her other employee.
Mr. Everett pa.s.sed around the cups. ”Here's to a wonderful day.”
They raised their cups and took a sip. ”Mr. Everett, wouldn't you like to tell Ginny your good news?” Tricia suggested.
Mr. Everett blushed, and he ducked his head in embarra.s.sment. ”Grace and I, we're--well, we've become engaged.”
Ginny's mouth drooped. ”Engaged?”
”Yes, isn't it wonderful? They're going to get married in the next week or so,” Tricia said.
”Married?” Ginny repeated, her voice cracking, and then she burst into tears.
Tricia grabbed Ginny's coffee before she spilled it onto the carpet, while Mr. Everett stood rooted, stricken.
”Ginny, what's wrong?”
”We can't afford to get married,” she wailed. ”Brian's working two jobs, I've been trying to find a second job, and somehow we have to find the time to work on the house. And . . . oh, everything is all messed up.”
”If I thought the news would upset you, I never would have mentioned it,” Mr. Everett apologized, obviously distressed by Ginny's reaction. His words only made her cry harder.
”I'm so sorry, Mr. Everett. I'm very happy for you and Grace,” Ginny managed. ”And I hate myself for being so terribly jealous, but I can't help it.”
Tricia pulled Ginny into an awkward embrace. ”You and Brian will get married someday, and I'm sure it'll be a lovely ceremony.”
Ginny's sobs increased, and she waved her ringless hand in the air. ”We're not even officially en-en-gaged.”
”Oh, dear--oh, dear,” Mr. Everett said.
The shop door opened, the little bell above it jangling cheerfully. Two women stepped into the store, took in the scene, and quickly retreated.
”Oh, dear--oh, dear,” Mr. Everett repeated, his heavily veined hands clenched, no doubt to keep from wringing them.
”Come on, Ginny, let's go upstairs,” Tricia said, and guided her employee toward the back of the shop and the stairs leading to her loft apartment.
”I'll take care of things here,” Mr. Everett called with relief.
Tricia opened the door marked PRIVATE and led the way up the stairs. She unlocked the apartment door and Ginny followed her in. Her sobs had wound down to sniffling, and Tricia led her to one of the stools in front of the kitchen island. ”Would you like some cocoa?”
Ginny wiped a hand over her eyes. ”Yes, please.” She sounded about twelve years old.
Tricia filled her electric kettle with water and plugged it in. She watched as Ginny s.n.a.t.c.hed a paper napkin from the holder and blew her nose. She blinked a few times and took in the kitchen with its sparking white, painted cabinets, granite counters, and thirteen-foot ceiling. ”Wow, this is a great s.p.a.ce,” she managed, and hiccuped. ”And there's no drywall dust or exposed wiring. I'd almost forgotten how real people live.”
”When you've finished all your renovations, you'll have a lovely home, too.”
Ginny sniffed and shrugged.
Tricia took a couple of mugs from the cabinet and found the cylinder of Ghirardelli Chocolate Mocha Hot Cocoa mix. She measured out the powder. The kettle was starting to sound like an engine--a prelude to boiling. ”It won't be long now,” Tricia said.
”I wish I led a charmed life like you,” Ginny said, and sighed.
”Me? I'm divorced, my sister lives next door, and I keep discovering dead bodies. How charmed is that?”
”At least you have your sister nearby. Since Mom and Dad moved south, I sometimes feel like I'm all alone here in Stoneham.”
”What about Brian?”
”He works so much we hardly ever see each other.” She let out another shuddering sigh.
”Seems like you need to make plans for the future. Give yourself a goal. How big a wedding do you want?”
”Not big at all,” Ginny said. ”I'd like to have our friends, our parents, and some of the people here in the village--like you and Mr. Everett and Grace, and Frannie and Nikki, and our friends Pete and Lisa. Nothing really big.”
”Have you ever heard of a potluck wedding?”
Ginny shook her head. ”No.”
”You could rent a picnic shelter, invite your friends to bring a dish to pa.s.s--just like an old-fas.h.i.+oned wedding.”
”Is that what you did when you got married?”
Tricia thought about the cathedral, the eight attendants, the five-tiered wedding cake with ma.s.ses of colorful fondant flowers, and the princess gown and veil. ”Not exactly,” she said. ”But if I had it to do over again, I'd have a much simpler affair.” Easy to say, now that the marriage had failed. And, the truth was, she'd loved every minute of the preparations, the ceremony, and the reception. Ending the marriage hadn't been Tricia's idea.
”If simple is what you want, I'm sure it can be arranged. Just pick a date--preferably in warm weather--and start making plans. I'm sure all your friends would love to pitch in. I could get Angelica to help with the food. She's spoken often about starting a catering service as part of the cafe--once she gets established.”
”Angelica would not be happy about you volunteering her services for me.”
”Why not?”
”For one thing, she's angry with me because I don't patronize her cafe. But it costs money to do that and, besides, it's always crowded with tourists. I pack my lunch and eat it in my car.”
”You can't do that much longer--it's getting cold.”
”Where else am I supposed to go?”
Tricia thought for a second. ”You could use the storeroom downstairs. We could put a table in there. And I'll get one of those dorm fridges and a microwave. It would give you and Mr. Everett somewhere to go on your breaks and save you money at the same time.”
”You'd be going to an awful lot of trouble.”
”It's no trouble. You're both valuable employees. I want to keep you.”
Ginny dabbed at her nose with the napkin. ”Thank you.”
The kettle began to whistle. Tricia unplugged it and poured the hot water into the mugs. ”I can't make it happen today, but I'll see what I can do about getting it pulled together in the next couple of days.”