Marked Down for Murder (Good Buy Girls) (5 page)

“Come on,” he said. “I have my siren in the car. I can
get us there in no time.”

Sure enough, he slapped a siren on the roof and punched the gas. They were pulling into the hospital lot before Maggie had processed all that was going through her head.

He parked in the visitor’s section and they hurried across the lot to the main entrance. A lovely older woman was working the information desk, and she smiled at them.

“Visiting hours are about to end,” she said.

“We’re looking for the maternity ward,” Maggie said.

“Right down the hall,” the lady said. “Follow the yellow line and it will take you to the elevators. You want to get off on the third floor and go to your right.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said.

Sam had already grabbed her hand and they were jogging for the elevators. When they got off on the third floor and turned right, they passed a large waiting room. Ginger and Roger and Pete and Claire were all sitting there. Maggie could tell by everyone’s dressed-up duds that they’d all been enjoying lovely Valentine’s Days of their own.

“Maggie!” Ginger and Claire both hurried toward her.

“Is there any word?” Maggie asked. “Is Joanne okay?”

“She and Michael have been back there for a while,” Claire said. “No word as yet.”

“Look at me,” Ginger said. She held out her hands to show they were shaking. “I am a nervous wreck.”

“There’s no need,” Maggie said. “Joanne is one tough cookie, she’s from New York, she’ll be fine.”

And she hoped by declaring it emphatically she could make it so.

“You’re right,” Claire said. “She’s going to be just fine.”

The three of them were silent for a moment. Maggie noticed that Sam had sat right down with Roger and Pete where they were watching a basketball game on the flat-screen television bolted to the wall.

Men! Didn’t they know they were in a high alert sort of situation?

She glanced back at her friends and noticed Ginger’s gaze on the sparkly heart around Maggie’s neck.

“So, what was the final word of the week?” Ginger asked.

Maggie smiled. “Valentine. He asked me to be his valentine.”

Claire sighed. “It sounds like it was very romantic.”

“It was,” Maggie said. “Sort of made up for all the ones we’ve missed over the years. How about you? Did you have a nice date with Pete?”

“Oh, we haven’t even started yet,” she said. “I had to close the library. He had just picked me up when we got the call.”

“What about you and Roger?” Maggie asked.

Ginger smiled. “We finished our dinner date and were headed home to make certain none of the boys got up to mischief while we were gone.”

“Your boys are wonderful. They would never—” Claire began, but Ginger cut her off.

“Oh no, teenage boys and their hormones must never be trusted. I swear their brains short out and they are incapable of overriding their impulses. Roger and I maintain a state of constant vigilance,” she said.

“It’s true,” Maggie said. “The decision-making skills are just not there yet. I was the same way with Laura.”

“This is one more reason why I don’t have the stamina to have a child,” Claire said. “It must be exhausting.”

Maggie frowned. Yes, it was, and it was definitely not for the faint of heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Ginger jostled her arm.

“Me?” Maggie asked. “Yeah, I’m just . . . uh . . . thinking about all that Joanne and Michael have ahead of them. You know, midnight feedings, potty training, the first time the baby gets sick, teaching them to read and ride a bike, getting into a good college . . . Good grief, it never ends.”

“Bless their hearts,” Ginger said.

“Indeed,” Maggie said.

Her gaze strayed back over to Sam. He was half reclined in his seat, laughing at some joke Pete had made. She could just see a sleeping baby sacked out on his chest. The thought warmed and chilled her at the same time.

As if he sensed her stare, he glanced over at her, and his smile was accompanied by a mischievous wink. Maggie smiled back, but it felt forced. She turned to her friends.

“Does anyone know what Joanne was craving for the past few weeks?” Claire asked. “I read that depending upon what a woman craves, you can sometimes determine the sex of the baby.”

“Oh, but no,” Ginger said. “Honey, you are just going to have to wait like the rest of us. Besides, Joanne has craved everything from coconut and caramel to root beer and raspberries.”

“Raspberries, huh,” Claire said. “I’ll have to look that one up.”

Clearly, she was not willing to give up her quest for the answer to Baby Claramotta’s gender.

Abruptly, the door to the waiting room swung open and Michael and Joanne strode into the room. They were both upright and walking, with no bundle of joy in their arms.

“You’re still pregnant!” Claire squawked. “Shouldn’t you be lying down with your feet in stirrups by now?”

Joanne gave her a wan smile. “Sorry. It was a false alarm.”

“Well, false labor at any rate,” Michael said. He shouldered her hospital bag while keeping his other arm wrapped protectively about Joanne.

“I think the baby just wants to make sure we know what we’re doing,” Joanne said.

Sam, Roger and Pete joined the group.

“Darn, and I was really hoping you’d name the baby Valentine, too,” Pete said.

Claire laughed while the others cringed.

“What? It could be worse,” he said. “How about Cupid?”

They all began to walk out of the hospital together. Maggie could hear Pete offering up more names behind her.

“Arrow? Eros?”

She caught up to Joanne and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired and a little disappointed,” Joanne said. “I mean I know it would have been early and it’s better that the baby has a few more weeks to build up its immunity and all, but . . .”

“You want to meet him or her?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Joanne said. Her eyes were shining. “I really, really do.”

“It’ll happen before you know it,” Ginger said as she muscled her way between Michael and Joanne.

“Promise?” Claire asked from Maggie’s other side. “Because I don’t know about you, but it is driving me plumb crazy not knowing what we’re having.”

“
We’re
having?” Joanne repeated. Then she laughed. “I like that. Thank you all for being here. It means a lot.”

“Where else would we be?” Ginger asked.

“Seriously, I haven’t been stockpiling cloth diapers for months for nothing,” Claire said.

“Go home and rest,” Maggie said. “Because after the baby comes, you won’t have another chance for a very long time.”

Joanne hugged each of them when they stopped by her car.

Michael opened the back door and tossed the hospital bag in, then he opened the passenger door for Joanne.

Once she climbed in, he closed the door behind her.

He shook hands with the men and hugged the women. “Thanks, all. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Please do,” Sam said. “And if you need a police escort at crunch time, just let me know. I’ve got connections.”

They banged knuckles and Michael got into his car. They stood in a group, waving, as Michael and Joanne headed home.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but my nerves are shot,” Pete said. “There’s a band playing at the Daily Grind, and I hear that place has some of the best java and chai tea in town. Who’s in?”

Ginger looked at Roger. “Do you suppose we can trust the boys?”

“I will call and threaten them in my big daddy voice,” he said. “Then I’ll double down with a guilt bomb about how I never get to take their mama out and I’m taking her tonight and expect no shenanigans.”

“I like it,” Ginger said. “We’re in.”

Sam pulled Maggie close and wiggled his eyebrows. “How about it? I bet we could slow dance.”

Maggie grinned. “That is too good of an offer to refuse.” She turned to the others. “We’re in, too.”

•   •   •

The band playing at the coffee shop was one that
specialized in cover songs, and tonight they were pulling out all of the romantic stops.

Staff and customers alike greeted Pete like their favorite uncle, and Maggie was pleased to see that most of them acknowledged Claire as his significant other. A jovial extrovert who was always quick with a joke, Pete seemed to balance Claire’s shy bookishness.

“They really are a perfect couple,” Ginger said to Maggie as they took a table toward the back while Roger and Sam paused to chat with one of their poker buddies.

A waitress came by and Maggie was amazed to find that, just like Ginger ordering for Roger, she knew what to order for Sam as well.

“So, how are things going?” Ginger asked. “How was it with Sam? Did you have a nice dinner? What did you talk about? Any discussion about the future?”

“It was amazing,” Maggie said.

“And?”

“There needs to be an and after ‘amazing’?”

“Details, girlfriend. I want details,” Ginger said.

“Why?” Maggie teased. “It sounds to me like you and Roger have enough going on that you wouldn’t need to live vicariously through my dating life.”

“There’s always room for inspiration. But seriously, I just want to know that things are progressing in the proper fashion.”

“They are,” Maggie assured her. “Everything is just fine.”

“But . . .” Ginger prodded.

“No buts,” Maggie said.

“Oh, puhleeze,” Ginger said. “If ever there was anyone in the history of the world who overthought things it is you, and I know you have started second-guessing your relationship with Sam. It’s what you do.”

“I do not,” Maggie protested.

“Then what was that funny look I saw on your face when you were looking at Sam in the waiting room?” Ginger asked.

“You saw that?” Maggie asked.

“Uh-huh,” Ginger said.

“Okay, fine,” Maggie said. “It’s not a big deal. It just occurred to me that perhaps Sam might want one.”

“Want one what?” Ginger asked. “You’re going to have to be more specific. It’s Valentine’s Day, and my mind is ripe with naughty ideas.”

Maggie laughed. No wonder Ginger and Roger were still happily married after all these years. Ginger had a deliciously deviant side.

“Mind out of the gutter, please,” Maggie said. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “A baby. After our conversation in the shop the other day, it occurred to me that Sam might want a baby.”

Ginger pursed her lips and her eyes went round. “Okay, I did not see that coming.”

“Neither did I,” Maggie said. “What do I do if he does? What if he wants the house, the wife, the two kids, and a minivan?”

“Minivans are highly underrated vehicles,” Ginger said. “You really can’t beat the practicality—”

Maggie gave her a dark look.

“Okay, then. Worry about it when he says he does,” Ginger said. “First, you need to find out what his thoughts are on the subject. A conversation you probably should have had before you started playing with fire, if you know what I mean.”

Maggie sighed. “We’re in our forties. Honestly, I was so swept up in us, I didn’t really think about it.”

“Uh-oh, they’re having a huddle,” Roger said to Sam as they joined them.

Ginger and Maggie broke apart and flashed blinding grins at their men in an attempt to make it look like they hadn’t been talking about one of them, which of course they had. “No, no huddle,” Ginger said. Then she gave Roger a seductive smile that made him audibly gulp. “But if you were looking for a huddle, I’d be happy to give you one on the dance floor.”

Roger held out his hand and helped Ginger to her feet. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

Sam took the seat that Ginger had vacated. He leaned in close and nuzzled Maggie’s neck. “I like this.”

“Like what?” she asked. Her voice was breathier than she would have liked. How did he do that? Sam chuckled, and she knew he’d heard it.

“Being out, being a couple, with you,” he said. “I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Me, too,” Maggie said. “Well, except for the guy part. I feel like the luckiest gal in the world.”

She met his gaze and there was the same magic that had been between them from the time they were squabbling kids, hormonal teens, distant adults, and now as a couple. In fact, she was pretty sure the spark between them was hotter than ever.

“Pardon me. I hate to interrupt,” a voice said. “But I think we need to have a talk.”

Maggie glanced past Sam and saw Bruce Cassidy, Blair’s husband and Summer’s stepfather, standing by their table, and he did not look happy.

“Mr. Cassidy,” Maggie said. She glanced quickly at
Sam, who rose to his feet.

“Call me Bruce,” he said, and shook the hand that Sam extended.

“Sam. Sam Collins. And you’ve met Maggie,” Sam said as he gestured for Bruce to take a seat.

“Briefly,” Bruce said. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and Maggie noticed that he looked tired. He was clean-shaven, his gray hair was combed and his navy blue suit was impeccable, but his face had the drawn look of a man who had been in an argument and lost.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

“You, too,” Maggie said. She glanced around the coffee shop. She didn’t see either Blair or Summer. She couldn’t believe they’d miss an opportunity to mess up her Valentine’s Day; not willingly, at any rate.

“You’re alone?” she asked.

“Yup,” he said. His voice was a resigned drawl. “That’s what happens when the womenfolk gang up on you. You spend the hearts and flowers day locked out of your house.”

“Been there.” Sam cringed and gave Maggie a sidelong glance she chose to ignore.

Bruce grunted. “I imagine you have. Of course, this is after I spent the better part of the evening listening to the events that occurred at a seedy motel on the outskirts of town.”

Sam and Maggie exchanged a look. Maggie wanted to laugh but it seemed bad form in front of Bruce. She saw Sam’s lips twitch, and she figured he was struggling as well.

“Sorry about that,” Sam said. “It was an unfortunate incident.”

“Tactful of you to put it like that,” Bruce said. “The truth is Blair has gotten it into her very stubborn head that you should be dating her daughter, and I have to tell you, I’m afraid she’ll stop at nothing to make it so.”

“What are you saying?” Sam asked.

“Simply put, when Blair gets a bug up her bazoo, it is virtually impossible to distract the woman, even with something sparkly and shiny.”

His obvious exasperation made Maggie smile. “Well, at least now I know where Summer gets it from.”

Bruce frowned. “Yeah, poor kid. Her mother is pretty hard on her. I think it comes out of Blair’s own insecurities. Still, I can’t imagine always having to be the best, the brightest, the most beautiful. That’s a hell of thing to make a kid live up to.”

Maggie nodded. She had a sudden urge to call her mother and thank her for just loving her for who she was even when she hadn’t been very lovable, which during her teen years had been pretty often.

“Hopefully, after today, things will calm down,” Sam said.

“We can always hope,” Bruce said. He sounded doubtful though. “Listen, I don’t want to hold up your romantic evening. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. You two enjoy yourselves, and I’ll see what I can do to find my wife a new and different hobby.”

“We’d appreciate it,” Sam said.

The two men shook hands and Bruce ambled out of the coffee shop and into the night. He had the hunched-over walk of a defeated man. But then he paused just outside the door, and Maggie watched as he turned up the collar of his coat against the nighttime chill. He stiffened his spine and tipped his chin up as if daring someone to try and sucker punch him. He strode down the sidewalk with a purposeful step before disappearing around the corner.

“What do you make of that?” Maggie asked Sam.

“The man has his hands full. I wish him all the luck in the world reining Blair in,” Sam said.

The waitress stopped by the table with their drinks, and Sam pulled out his wallet to pay, but she waved him away.

“Mr. Cassidy already paid for it all,” she said. “He said it was the least he could do.”

“Oh, wasn’t that nice?” Maggie asked.

“Poor guy probably spends his whole life paying people to forgive his wife’s bad behavior,” Sam said. Then he looked at Maggie and took her hand in his. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes,” she said as she leaned forward and kissed him. “But you can say it as much as you want. I never get tired of hearing it. I love you, too.”

“Oh, please, get a room,” Roger said as he and Ginger joined them.

Sam leaned close to Maggie and whispered, “I like that idea.”

Maggie felt a thrill course through her and smiled back at him. “Let’s skip the slow dance. Your place or mine?”

“Marshall Dillon is waiting at my place,” he said.

“Your place it is.” Maggie loved that cat, and not just because he’d saved her life in the past, but because he was the world’s greatest snuggler, second to Sam. She pushed their hot chocolates with extra whipped cream in front of Roger and Ginger. “A bonus round for you two.”

They rose from their seats as one and Sam threw a hurried “Have a great night!” over his shoulder as he hauled Maggie out of the coffee shop.

•   •   •

“Fun night last night?” Ginger asked. She was standing
in front of the long floor mirror by the dress section in Maggie’s shop. She was holding up a lime green broomstick skirt with sparkly beads sewn on the hem and she turned this way and that so the beads could catch the light.

“Yep, how about you?” Maggie asked.

“When we got home, all four boys were accounted for and not a hoochie mama in sight,” Ginger said. She sounded relieved, and Maggie laughed.

“I didn’t think there were that many hoochie mamas in St. Stanley,” she said.

“Oh, you would be surprised,” Ginger said. “I’m all for women being liberated and getting equal pay for equal work, but I wouldn’t want a boy calling or texting my daughter fifteen times a day, and I don’t like girls who do that to my boys either.”

“It’s that fine line between crushing and stalking,” Maggie agreed.

“Some girls need a little help with the definition and a quick instruction on healthy boundaries,” Ginger said. She had fire in her eyes, and Maggie had the feeling the unfortunate parents of one young girl would be getting a call from Ginger in the near future.

“Has there been any word from Joanne?” Ginger asked as she hung the skirt back up and moved to join Maggie by the counter.

“Not that I’ve heard,” she said. “False labor does seem cruel at this juncture, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Ginger said. “I don’t know who is more eager at this point, Joanne to finally hold her baby or Claire to know what sex the baby is.”

“Between you and me,” Maggie said, “what’s your guess?”

“Boy,” Ginger said. “I always pick boy because four out of four times, I was right.”

“Good enough,” Maggie said. “I haven’t been able to get a feeling one way or the other, so I’m going for healthy.”

The front door to the shop opened and three older ladies came in. Ginger glanced from them to Maggie and said, “Looks like you’re needed. I’ll catch you later.”

Maggie waved as Ginger departed and then came around the counter to greet her customers.

“Good afternoon, ladies, can I help you find anything?”

“Hats, dear. Do you have any hats?” Mrs. Oliver asked.

Maggie knew her as a patient of Doc Franklin’s from when she used to do his books.

“Are you looking for anything in particular, Mrs. Oliver?” Maggie asked.

“Well, something dressy,” she said. “We’ve decided to take the shuttle bus over to Dumontville and have afternoon tea at the Anderson Hotel, and we want to do it right.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Maggie said. “I have a few hats over here, left over from last spring’s wedding season. Why don’t you take a look?”

Maggie led Mrs. Oliver and her two companions over to a hat rack in the back of the shop. She had noticed more and more people had been coming in looking for hats. She wondered if their popularity was on the rise. She’d have to see what she could find on sale post–wedding season this year. A window display of spring hats could be fun and lucrative.

“Oh, look at that one,” one of the ladies said to Mrs. Oliver. “That would match your Sunday suit perfectly.”

Maggie left them to admire their reflections in the mirror. It really would be fabulous if hats made a comeback in the fashion world.

The door opened and Maggie glanced up with her “greet the customer” smile firmly in place.

“Good morning, how can I . . . Oh, it’s you,” she said.

Blair Cassidy raised her arched eyebrows and gave Maggie a sour look. “Is that how you greet shoppers?”

“You’re not a shopper,” Maggie said. “You’re a manipulative, sneaky, bothersome, bossy—”

Blair held up her hand. “Please, let’s not quibble.”

“You’re right,” Maggie said. “Why don’t you leave and then we’ll get along just fine?”

Blair did not look amused. She heaved a put-upon sigh, as if she were being forced to do something she would rather not. Maggie wondered if Bruce had insisted that she come and apologize. That would certainly be unexpected.

But instead of uttering an “I’m sorry,” Blair reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook, then she wiggled it in the air to get Maggie’s attention.

“How much?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Maggie said.

“How much do you want?” Blair asked. She enunciated every word and spoke very slowly, as if English was Maggie’s second, or possibly her third, language.

“Are you buying something?” Maggie asked.

She looked at Blair’s arms to see if she’d picked up something. No, her hands were empty. Was she interested in a piece of furniture? That seemed unlikely, but then would anything that Blair did surprise her? Maybe Bruce told her she had to buy something as a peace offering to Maggie. Unnecessary, but she appreciated the thought.

“Don’t be coy,” Blair said. “You’re a grown woman, a businesswoman; why don’t you try acting like it?”

Maggie felt her brain contract as she tried to keep her temper in check.

“I can assure you that I am,” Maggie said. “Now what are you talking about?”

Blair slapped her checkbook onto the counter and took out her pen. “How can I make this any plainer? How much do you want to break up with Sam Collins?”