Murder Unmentionable (31 page)

From then on, the door opened and closed repeatedly as the rest of the models arrived. Bitsy came with her usual stack of bakery boxes filled with delectable cupcakes, and
chatter soon filled Sweet Nothings as they nursed cups of coffee from Arabella’s never-ending pot.

Emma glanced at her watch and decided it was time. She began shepherding the women toward the dressing rooms.

There was a thump at the front door, and Emma paused. It didn’t sound like a knock—more like someone had hit the door. Best to check, she decided, as she eased the door open.

The young man standing there was nearly hidden behind a huge, tissue-wrapped bouquet. “Delivery,” he mumbled around the flowers in his hands.

Emma couldn’t imagine who had sent them flowers. She signed the delivery receipt and carried the vase to the counter. Her name was on the tiny white envelope tucked into the top of the bouquet of pink peonies.

She slid her finger under the flap, opened the envelope and eased out the card.
Wishing you the best on this special day, Brian,
was scrawled inside.

“Those must have cost a fortune!” Bitsy sighed as she admired the flowers.

Emma buried her nose in the velvet soft petals hoping to hide the blush that she could tell was coloring her face as pink as the flowers.

“I’m guessing it’s your boyfriend who sent those.”

Emma hesitated. “A friend, actually.”

“Wish I had friends like that.” Bitsy laughed and ran a hand through her hair.

Emma had just placed the vase of peonies on the counter when there was another thump against the front door.
What now
, she wondered?

“Yes?” She said as she swung the door open.

There was another delivery boy standing there hidden behind another gigantic floral arrangement. He dumped them into Emma’s arms. “Delivery for you.”

Emma eased the door closed with her foot and carried the flowers to the other side of the counter.

“Good heavens,” Arabella exclaimed when she saw them. “It’s beginning to look more like a florist in here than a lingerie shop. Who are they from?”

“I don’t know. They’re addressed to you.” Emma retrieved the card from the heart of the dozen red roses.

“Really?” Arabella raised her eyebrows. “It’s been way too long since someone has sent me any of these.” She opened the card, and an array of emotions crossed her face. “Oh, dear.” She put her hand to her chest.

Emma tried to peer over her shoulder.

“Here,” Arabella handed her the card. “Read it.”

Emma scanned the rather quaint penmanship. “
Wishing you a most successful opening. Regards, Les
,” she read out loud.

“Indeed.” Arabella rolled her eyes.

Emma handed her the card. “He’s trying to get back into your good graces.”

“Apparently.” Arabella sniffed the flowers. “They are heavenly.”

Women were coming out of the dressing rooms and mingling in front of the counter, admiring the two bouquets. Emma was collecting the used coffee cups when a third thump rattled the front door. She grabbed for the doorknob with one hand, the other clutching the three mugs by their handles.

“My goodness! Not more flowers.” Emma said.

The delivery boy, who was wearing a yellow T-shirt that had
Francesca’s Flowers
printed on it, grinned. “First time I ever heard anyone say that.” He put the bouquet down on the doormat as he scrounged in his back pocket for the delivery slip.

Emma laughed. She signed the receipt and picked up the flowers.

“Good heavens!” Arabella said. “Another bouquet? These must be for you.”

“I don’t know who would have sent them.” Emma poked around inside the tissue but didn’t immediately find anything.

“Looks like they might have been sent anonymously.”

“Whoever sent them has good taste.” Arabella admired the arrangement of garden flowers.

Emma glanced down to see a small white square envelope lying on the floor. “Looks like I dropped the card.” She quickly read the front. “And it looks like they’re for you.”

“Me?” Arabella said pointing to herself. “Who on earth…” She slid the card out and read it.

This time her face turned as pink as the peonies.

“Who’s it from?” Emma prodded.

Arabella held the note to her chest. “They’re from Francis. Can you imagine?”

Emma whistled softly. “Where shall we put them?”

“In the center between the other two, I think.” Arabella quickly bustled off with the bouquet.

Emma looked at the flowers spaced out on the counter. They were just what Sweet Nothings needed for their opening day. She knew she was partial, but she thought Brian’s bouquet was the nicest. She couldn’t wait to thank him for it. She buried her nose in the flowers once more and sniffed the delicious scents.

“Should we get going?” Arabella asked. Emma noticed the frown between her brows and the shadows under her eyes.

Emma threw her arms around her aunt. “I just know this is going to be a success.”

Arabella looked startled for a moment, but then her face relaxed. She kissed Emma on the cheek. “I agree one hundred percent.”

Emma felt a warm glow of satisfaction that more than made up for any feelings she had about missing New York and her old life. This is where she belonged. She knew it now.

Emma was turning toward the counter when a terrible sound rent the air of Sweet Nothings. It was the sound of a garment ripping, and it was followed by a long, drawn-out feminine wail.

ARABELLA grabbed her sewing bag and went running as fast as an EMT with a first-aid kit at the scene of an accident.

The woman who had introduced herself as Ginger tore open the black-and-white toile curtain to the dressing room and stood wailing loudly, her black lace Barbizon gown hugging her curves except where the seam had decided to separate into two pieces.

Arabella examined the hole the way a doctor might examine a wound. She furrowed her brow and checked the contents of her sewing kit.

“You’re going to need to take it off,” she told Ginger.

Tears were streaming down Ginger’s face.

Arabella gave a hiss of impatience. “We’ll get it fixed in no time. Don’t you worry.”

“I’ve so been looking forward to being in your fashion show,” Ginger alternately cried and hiccoughed. “I didn’t do nothing except pull the gown over my head.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arabella soothed as she threaded her needle with some black silk thread. “I’m sure I can fix it.” She smiled reassuringly. “These old seams are fragile. It’s not your fault.”

“Honest, I’ve never worn anything as beautiful as this before,” Ginger lamented. “My wedding gown wasn’t even this special. I got it from the dry cleaner. Someone had taken it in to be preserved and never bothered to pick it up. He gave me a real deal on it seeing as how he never did get that spot near the hem out.” She sniffed loudly.

Arabella gently urged her back into the dressing room and pulled the toile curtain closed. Moments later an arm, bearing the torn piece of lingerie, snaked its way through the part in the curtains.

Arabella grabbed the garment. “You just stay put. I’ll have this fixed in no time.”

Arabella retreated to the Louis XIV chair, perched her glasses on the end of her nose and set to work. Moments later, she’d stuck the repaired garment through the curtain, and Ginger reappeared clad in black lace and wearing a huge grin. She paused in front of the full-length beveled glass mirror to admire herself.

“Someone’s at the back door,” Kate called to Emma. “Do you want me to see who it is?”

“It’s probably Lucy, the caterer, with the food.”

Both Emma and Kate headed toward the back room. Lucy’s small white van with
Let Us Cater To You
written on the side in rose-colored script, was backed up as close as she could get to the door. Lucy was waiting, holding a huge silver platter covered in plastic wrap.

“It’s just starting to rain,” she said as a plump drop splattered on the plastic covering the platter. “Let’s get these things inside before we have a real deluge on our hands.”

“Need some help?” Kate started toward the open doors to the van.

“Thanks.” Lucy gestured with her chin toward a stack of boxes. “If you could bring in the napkins and silverware…” She glanced at Emma. “And we’ll need the folding table and the linens.”

“I’ll get those.”

Arabella was waiting anxiously by the back door. “Is it raining?” She stuck a hand out, palm up.

“It’s just starting,” Lucy said as she edged past the open door. “I think we’re in for a real downpour.”

Arabella’s face darkened as she held the door open for Kate, with her armload of boxes, and Emma, who maneuvered her way through with the folding table. She trotted ahead of them, Pierre right on her heels, to the spot where they’d decided to set up the food. They didn’t have a whole lot of room, so Lucy had chosen some of her smaller platters and planned to refill them with supplies kept in the refrigerated portion of her van.

Arabella, Emma and Kate hovered while Lucy whipped open the white tablecloth and adjusted it on the table, then arranged the platters of food and other supplies just so. Bitsy helped organize her cupcakes, and they all stood back to admire the impressive spread.

Emma felt her stomach growl at the sight of the homemade cheese straws and other goodies. She’d been too nervous to eat much more than a bite or two of yogurt for breakfast.

Lucy bustled out to the van and came back with another, smaller platter. This they set up in the back room for the models.

“One minute till time,” Sylvia shouted above the chattering voices. “Places, everyone!”

Emma had organized things so that the models would
wait in the back room and make their appearance one by one, circulating through the salesroom in an ongoing loop. They’d each been given a card with information about their particular garment so they would be able to answer any of the customers’ questions. Meanwhile, Sylvia was behind the counter ready to show off their new lines of merchandise, and Arabella and Emma were poised to greet people and generally make the customers feel at home.

Sylvia whistled and called loudly, “Countdown.”

Again, they counted down as if it were New Year’s Eve and the ball was about to drop, but this time the models joined in, giggling and jostling each other as they crowded into the back room.

Arabella pulled open the front door with a flourish and stood back, but no one was there. She stuck her head out of the door and looked up and down the sidewalk. Emma joined her.

“Not a soul,” Emma called over her shoulder to Sylvia.

“It’s early yet,” Sylvia said to reassure them.

“Maybe when the rain lets up,” Arabella added.

Emma’s stomach clenched into a knot worthy of a sailor. If no one came, what would happen to Sweet Nothings and Arabella?

Everyone fell silent and listened as the clock ticked one minute past the hour, two minutes, three minutes. At the four-minute mark, Emma thought she would go crazy if she didn’t do something—anything. She grabbed the bottle of glass cleaner and began cleaning the glass-fronted cabinets, even though they were already spotless.

At ten minutes past the hour, the front door slowly opened.

Everyone gave a collective sigh of relief. Sylvia straightened behind the counter, and Emma and Arabella began moving toward the door.

A woman stuck her head around the opening. Raindrops glistened in her white hair. She smiled apologetically. “Can you tell me where the hardware store is?”

Emma had to stifle a groan. She opened her mouth, but the words refused to come out. Fortunately Arabella had managed to keep her wits and she pointed the woman toward O’Connell’s, catty-corner across the street.

Ginger stuck her head out of the back room. “You want us to come out now?”

Emma shook her head. “False alarm.”

“Oh.” Ginger looked as defeated as Emma felt. Emma glanced at the platters of food waiting temptingly on the table. Even the parsley garnishes were beginning to look tired.

Moments later the door opened again, and everyone snapped to attention.

“Hi,” Liz called out, backing into the shop as she pulled her umbrella closed. “It’s a monsoon out there.” She turned around to see Emma, Arabella, Sylvia and Kate all staring at her. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“Nothing’s happened,” Emma said, her voice rising to a near wail. “No one’s come by yet. No one at all.”

Liz hurried over and put her arm around Emma. “It’s pouring right now. As soon as the rain stops, I’m sure Sweet Nothings will be jam-packed.”

“I hope so.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Liz looked around the shop. “Everything looks just perfect.” She moved toward the counter. “What beautiful flowers!” She stooped and sniffed the peonies.

“They’re from Brian.” Emma could feel her face getting red.

Liz raised her eyebrows. “Well! I didn’t realize that brother of mine had such good taste.” She put her arm
around Emma. “If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do, I have to pick Ben up from his playdate. Although I’m sure Mimi could keep him longer if you need help…”

Emma shook her head. “We’ll be fine.”