Part 36 (1/2)

Frannie straightened the stack of unsigned books on the side table, and everyone tried not to make eye contact with Angelica as they waited in awkward silence for someone--anyone--else to arrive. Finally, Ginny suggested Angelica go ahead with her cooking demonstration.

”What's the point?” Angelica asked, defeat coloring her voice.

”Well, it's almost seven thirty, and none of us has had dinner. I can't be the only one eager to try your Hacienda Tacos.”

”Good old Tex-Mex--the best food on Earth,” Frannie piped up and sighed. ”Next to a luau, that is.” It was Frannie's dream to someday retire to the fiftieth state.

Angelica gave a careless shrug and turned on the electric skillet.

Across the street, the newly installed gas lamps glowed. The Board of Selectmen had approved the installation of the old-fas.h.i.+oned streetlights in an effort to capitalize on the town's history and its new lease on life. Tourists ate up that kind of stuff, and the Board of Selectmen was eager to do all it could to encourage their visits. Unfortunately, when the bookstores closed, the visitors disappeared, leaving no one to appreciate them.

Within minutes, Angelica had prepared the filling, spooned it into corn tortillas, and pa.s.sed them out to her small--and hungry--audience. The desserts were then sampled, and everyone sipped complementary coffee, not making a dent in the contents of the five-gallon urn borrowed from Angelica's cafe.

As Angelica served Mr. Everett another portion of chocolate torte, Tricia gave Ginny a nudge. ”Buy a book,” she whispered.

Ginny's eyes nearly popped. ”They're thirty-four dollars,” she hissed. ”I can't afford it.”

”Use your charge card and I'll credit your account tomorrow morning. I want Ange to make at least a couple of sales tonight.”

Ginny shrugged. ”If you insist.” She set down her cup, grabbed a copy of the coffee table-sized book filled with glossy photos, and marched up to the cash desk where Angelica stood, wringing her hands. ”I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm eager to be the first to get my signed copy of Easy-Does-It Cooking.”

Mr. Everett's nervous gaze s.h.i.+fted to Tricia. She mouthed the words, Buy one--I'll pay you back.

”Uh, uh--let me be the second,” Mr. Everett said.

Luckily, Angelica hadn't noticed the exchange. She pressed a clenched hand to her lips, fighting back tears. ”You guys are just the best. Frannie, grab the camera, will you?” Angelica said. Next, she played director, carefully positioning Ginny with her back to the camera, and posed. She shook Ginny's hand. She raised a finger to make a point. She looked surprised--then serious, and, ultimately, very silly. At last, Angelica reached for her pen, wrote a few words on the flyleaf of Ginny's copy, and signed her name with such a flourish that it was completely illegible. Frannie kept snapping pictures as Angelica handed the book to Ginny.

Ginny frowned. ”Live free or diet?” Was Angelica mocking the state motto?

”Yes, don't you think that's clever?” Angelica said. ”I'm going to sign that in all the books.”

Though Ginny forced a smile, her voice was flat. ”Go for it.”

As Mr. Everett stepped up to have his book signed, Tricia moved to look out the large display window that overlooked Main Street. As Ginny had said, Bob's car was parked near History Repeats Itself. Tricia's anger smoldered. How inconsiderate of Bob to ignore Angelica's very first signing. He had to know how much it meant to her.

Tricia glanced back at her sister and Mr. Everett, still posing for Frannie. In a fit of pique, Tricia decided it was time for action. She'd go find Bob and, if necessary, drag him back to the Cookery by his thinning hair.

Tricia took a Zen moment to calm herself before she spoke. ”I think I'll run out and see if I can find Bob,” she told Angelica. ”If his car is parked down the road, he can't be very far away.”

”I suppose,” Angelica said. ”But please hurry back to help us pack up some of these desserts.” She shook her head, taking in the amount of leftover food. ”I can't serve all this at the cafe. Would you like to take some home, Ginny?”

”Would I? Hand me the Cling Wrap, will you?”

”Be right back,” Tricia called and headed out the door.

The village was practically deserted, and Bob's car was the only vehicle parked on the west side of Main Street. Tricia crossed the street and started down the sidewalk. Upon consideration, she decided she wouldn't berate Bob, at least not in front of Jim Roth, owner of History Repeats Itself. It wouldn't do to go ballistic in front of an audience. Instead, her plan was to poke her head inside the door and cheerfully ask if Bob hadn't forgotten another engagement--and probably do it through gritted teeth.