Marked Down for Murder (Good Buy Girls) (2 page)

“Excuse me?” Maggie asked. She frowned at the
woman in front of her. “I’m pretty sure my boyfriend didn’t throw over anyone, especially not her, for me.”

“No one asked you,” Blair said.

Maggie glanced back at her friends to see if this was for real. Judging by the matching looks of irritation on their faces—yep, this was real.

“I’m sorry, unless you’re here to shop or to consign something for me to sell, you’re going to need to leave . . . now.” Maggie was pleased that her voice sounded so calm when on the inside she was boiling.

Blair glanced around the shop. Her nose crinkled in distaste. “No, I really don’t see anything in here that would interest me. I don’t do the shabby-chic thing that you’ve got going on.”

The front door opened and in strode a gray-haired man wearing a plaid shirt and jeans with a scuffed pair of cowboy boots. His wide leather belt seemed to prop up the beer belly he was sporting, but his smile seemed genuine as he took in all of the ladies before him.

“Well, I might have known you two girls would be off shopping the first chance you got,” he said. His voice had a light drawl to it, but Maggie couldn’t tell if it was age or origin that flavored his speech.

“Oh, no, we’re not shopping,” Blair corrected him. “We’re merely checking out the competition—and we’re being very generous by calling it that, believe me.”

Maggie supposed she should consider it a compliment that Summer and her mother found her and her shop wanting, but truly it felt like a slam—a well-delivered one, at that.

“Hi, I’m Mr. Blair,” the man joked.

He extended his hand to Maggie. Maggie and the others just stared at him, and he sighed, as if realizing that his wife had made his joke not funny.

“I’m Bruce Cassidy, husband to Blair and stepfather to Summer,” he said.

Good manners propelled Maggie forward, and she shook his hand. “Maggie Gerber. Nice to meet you.”

The others followed her lead, while Blair and Summer frantically whispered behind their hands.

Maggie was pretty sure they were shredding her shop, her hair and the outfit she wore today. She glanced down, trying not to appear self-conscious. She was wearing her favorite jeans—no, not skinny jeans, but the cut and fit were flattering—with a snug blue sweater. Possibly they were finding fault with her navy Converse sneakers, but today was the day she sorted inventory in her stockroom, and a skirt and blouse combo really didn’t cut it for the heavy lifting.

“We’re done here, Bruce,” Blair declared. She strode to the door in her tight skirt and calf-hugging boots topped by her puffy jacket. Summer fell into step behind her, and it was then that Maggie realized the two women were wearing the exact same outfit but in different colors. Blair favored dark jewel tones, while Summer was all about the pastel, shiny fabrics. Neither Blair nor Summer bothered to say good-bye when they left.

Bruce gave Maggie and the others a shrug as if this were normal operating procedure.

“We’ve only been married two years, but she still keeps me on my toes,” Bruce said. He smiled, but no one returned it. He tightened his scarf around his neck. “Ten years away from southern California and I’m still not used to the cold. Well, nice meeting you, ladies.”

He caught the door before it shut completely and pushed his way out onto the street behind Summer and her mother.

“Heaven help us, there are two of them,” Ginger said. She stood gaping at the window as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I think I need to find a happy place,” Maggie said. “A very happy place.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the Presidents’ Day sales that would be coming up in a matter of days. Sure enough, thinking about all of the boots, coats, gloves and hats that were to be discounted on the big sale day helped pull her out of her spiral of outrage, hurt, horror and revulsion. Summer and her mother could not touch her in her happy sale place.

“Are you all right in there?” Ginger asked after a few minutes. When Maggie didn’t answer, she asked, “You’re not catatonic, are you?”

Maggie blinked her eyes open. “Just mentally perusing the Presidents’ Day sales.”

Claire, Joanne and Ginger all nodded in perfect understanding. Oh, yes, there was nothing a bargain hunter loved quite so much as a holiday sale.

“I refuse to let Summer or her mother ruin one of the best shopping weekends of the winter for me,” Maggie said. “I’ve been tracking the Sunday circulars, and the big stores are having mega sales. I’m pretty sure I can load up on items to stock the shop for next winter.”

“And we’ll help,” Claire said. “I saw Stegner’s is having a buy two get one free on shoes.”

“Perfect,” Maggie said. “And this time, I want to branch out to handbags.”

“Now you are speaking my language!” Ginger cried. She was known for her weakness for purses.

“I was thinking I could do a display of handbags in the window,” Maggie said. “Too bad Laura isn’t here. She’s so clever with window displays.”

Laura Gerber, Maggie’s only child, was away at college in Pennsylvania. Since Maggie’s husband, Charlie, had been killed when Laura was a toddler, it had been just the two of them for as long as Maggie could remember. She missed her daughter terribly, but she wanted Laura to pursue her own dreams, even if it meant Laura didn’t settle back in St. Stanley. As Maggie’s own mother had told her when Laura was born, the greatest gifts she could give her daughter were roots followed by wings.

“She could always do a phone consultation,” Joanne said. “Tell her what you’re thinking of doing, and she will tell you how wrong it is and then give you fabulous advice.”

“Is that what happened with your window display at the deli?” Claire asked.

“Pretty much,” Joanne said. She and her husband, Michael, owned and operated the local deli More than Meats. “Michael did not understand why I felt it was so important to decorate the windows of our deli. I think it was pregnancy brain. Ever since the tragedy there, well, I just feel the need to make it over.”

Maggie and the others nodded. One of Joanne and Michael’s employees had been murdered in the deli just before the holidays, and they knew Joanne had been struggling to put it behind her and focus on her baby’s arrival.

“So, were you leaning toward blue or pink for the decorations?” Claire asked.

Michael and Joanne had opted not to find out the gender of their baby. It had been driving Claire bonkers ever since Joanne had told her, and she never missed an opportunity to try and determine if her friend was having a boy or a girl.

“Neither,” Joanne said. “I was mostly just obsessed with naked cupids and big shiny red hearts,” she said. “I texted Laura with my brilliant idea, and she convinced me that lacy white doilies cut into the shape of hearts would be much more festive on a deli window.”

“Yeah, I don’t suppose anyone wants to order a big ole hunk of ham when they’re looking at a cupid’s butt,” Ginger said with a snort.

Maggie bit her lip to keep from laughing. It almost worked, but a small chuckle escaped before she could stop it.

Claire did not laugh but was instead eyeing Joanne’s belly as if she could see inside. Maggie could tell the gender issue of Baby Claramotta was making her batty.

“Has Michael been gaining weight?” Claire asked.

Joanne frowned at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I read an article that said when a husband gains a lot of weight during his wife’s pregnancy, then it’s a girl,” Claire said.

“How do they figure?” Ginger asked. “I birthed four boys, and the way Roger ate, you’d think he was the pregnant one. The man had worse cravings than I did.”

“He’s the exception that proves the rule,” Claire said. She turned back to Joanne. “So, any new love handles on the husband to report?”

Joanne frowned as if trying to think. “I don’t know . . . maybe . . . but I mean, he’s not huge or anything.”

Claire scrutinized Joanne’s belly. “Okay, well the other thing I read was that if you carry the baby low, it’s a boy, and if you carry high, it’s a girl.”

Ginger looked at Maggie and rolled her eyes. “For a woman who prides herself on research, she sure is busting out the old wives’ tales.”

“I don’t know,” Joanne said as she studied her belly. “From this angle, I feel like the baby is sitting right smack dab in the middle.”

Claire shook her head. “This is driving me crazy. How could you not find out what it is? Don’t you want to know? Aren’t you curious?”

Joanne hugged her belly. “I just want healthy. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, but how am I supposed to know if I should be stocking up on blue or pink?” Claire asked. “Sports teams or ballerinas?”

“Yellow and green are lovely, too,” Joanne said. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone to check the time. “Oh, I have to go. Michael and I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Will there be an ultrasound?” Claire asked as they headed toward the door. “Can I come? The doctor could just tell me. I swear I won’t blab.”

“No, you nut,” Joanne laughed. “You can’t find out the baby’s gender before us. Besides, you know you’d never be able to keep it a secret.”

“I would, too,” Claire insisted. “I’d just call it Cletus the fetus.”

“Then I’d think it was a boy,” Joanne said. “Listen, Claire, I love you like a sister, but no, you may not come to the doctor with me.”

She pushed open the door and waved to Ginger and Maggie as she left.

“Fine, but don’t blame me when all that baby has to wear is yellow,” Claire said. She, too, waved to Maggie and Ginger, and the door swung shut behind them.

“The suspense is killing the librarian in her,” Ginger observed.

“No kidding,” Maggie said. “I don’t remember carrying Laura high.”

“You didn’t,” Ginger said. “You looked like you swallowed a bowling ball and were cradling it in your pelvis. How often did you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Every fifteen minutes,” Maggie said. “And your boys rode high. Remember? Dante’s foot was lodged in your ribs for weeks.”

Ginger rubbed her right side. “How could I forget?”

The door to the shop opened and Sam strode in carrying a take-out bag from Slice of Heaven, the local pizza joint. Maggie could smell Mrs. Bellini’s signature sauce all the way across the room.

“Hello, ladies,” he said. He stopped beside Maggie and planted a quick kiss on her lips before handing over the bag.

“A man who delivers lunch,” Maggie said. “You really are pretty perfect, aren’t you?”

Sam grinned, and it made Maggie dizzy. She did not think she would ever get used to Sam being hers, all hers, again.

“Hi, Sam,” Ginger greeted him. She kissed his cheek and gestured to the vase on the counter with its three red roses. “Nice flowers.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. Then he blinked at her, as if that made him look more innocent.

“Uh-huh,” Ginger said. “Well, here’s a word to the wise: If you’re romancing Maggie, you may want to go for the big, public gesture that will have people talking for weeks and will keep Summer’s mother at bay.”

Sam frowned. “Am I missing something?”

“Apparently, we all were. Blair and Bruce Cassidy, Summer’s mom and stepfather, are here for a visit and decided to stop by my shop to check out the competition,” Maggie said.

“And?” Sam asked.

“Blair found Maggie less than satisfactory,” Ginger said.

“What? Why?” Sam asked.

“Oh, how did she put it?” Maggie asked Ginger as she put the food on the counter and opened the bag to let the delicious smell perfume the room.

“In her opinion, you’re not worthy,” Ginger said.

“Not worthy of what?” Sam asked. He looked outraged, a fact that made him even more attractive to Maggie.

“Quote, ‘There is no way that Sam Collins threw you over for this,’ end quote,” Maggie said.

“‘This’ meaning?” Sam asked.

“Me,” Maggie said. “I was lucky enough to be the recipient of Blair’s scorn. Clearly, she thinks I am not worthy of you. It was a good time.”

“That’s . . . um . . . let me find the right word.” Sam paused. He scratched his head and said, “Insane.”

“No argument here,” Ginger said. “But if I were you, Sam, I would watch your back, front or any other part you value, if you get my drift.”

“Eep!” Sam let out a girly, high squeak and with a look of mock horror crossed his arms over his middle, which made Maggie and Ginger both laugh.

“Don’t worry,” Maggie said. “I’ll protect your virtue.”

Sam gave her a wicked wink, which made Maggie’s face get hot with embarrassment. Ginger glanced between them with a wide smile.

“How I never knew that you two were a couple back in the day, I cannot imagine. You really are perfect for each other.”

“That’s because someone let Summer Phillips mess with her head instead of asking me for the truth, thus causing our dramatic teenage breakup before we told anyone we were even together.” Sam gave Maggie a dark look.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Maggie asked.

Sam and Ginger exchanged a look and then simultaneously said, “No.”

In high school, when Sam and Maggie had just been getting together as a couple, Summer had her boyfriend of the moment put on Sam’s football jersey. Then she staged a half-naked, passionate encounter for Maggie to walk in on, which she did, causing Maggie to believe that Sam was cheating on her. It ruined Sam and Maggie’s relationship. He left for college, and they didn’t speak again for twenty-plus years.