All I Ever Wanted(58)

“We’d be honored to have him,” Robbie said. “Do you think he’d donate a kayak for a raffle we’re doing?”

“Is it a good cause? Because if it’s for your booze fund, then probably not.” Noah had been known to give a canoe or kayak to various fundraisers over the years, though he pretended to be disgruntled when asked. Five years ago, he donated a beautiful cedar rowboat with caned seats to a children’s hospital fundraiser. It sold for more than twenty grand. Noah had been equal parts proud and disgusted.

“Sorry to say, Joey Christmas was just diagnosed with cancer,” Robbie said. “No insurance.”

“Count Noah in, then,” I said instantly. Sure, I’d have to whine and plead for an hour, despite the fact that Noah and I both knew he’d give in…it was just tradition. “I’ll give something, too, if you want.”

Robbie winked. “How about ten minutes alone with you? We’d get a lot of bids on that one,” he said, dropping his gaze to my chest and sighing appreciatively.

“Ten minutes, Robbie? Is that all you’d need? How disappointing.” He smiled. “So how’s Joey doing?”

“You know. You can’t kill a guy that mean. Want a drink, Callie?”

I noted that Shaunee had let Harmon’s hand stay on her ass. They’d been pretending not to date for years. “No, thanks, Robbie,” I said. “I have to go sprinkle fairy dust.” He nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Don’t let Jim try to drive home,” I added. “Or walk, for that matter. He’ll fall in the river and drown.”

“You bet, Callie. Tell Noah we said hi.”

“Sure.”

I wound my way through the sea of tables toward my destination. Muriel was facing away from me, and Mark’s face was serious as he leaned forward. They were holding hands. Fairy dust, I reminded myself. As I approached, Muriel’s voice cut through the crowd. “It’s just that she’s so smug.”

My footsteps halted.

“No, Mure, she’s really not,” Mark said. “She’s just more experienced. You’ll get there.”

“Then why does she have to gloat? I mean—”

Gloat? I didn’t gloat! Not one bit (which had taken some serious self-control, let me tell you!). “Hey, guys! How are you?” I said, lurching back into action.

Mark’s face lit up. “Callie! What are you doing here?”

“I had a drink with a friend,” I said. “Hi, Muriel.”

Two spots of red burned on her white, white cheeks, practically melting them.

“Do you want to join us?” Mark said easily.

“Sure. Just for a sec.” I pulled up a chair and sat. “Heard it was a little tricky at Hammill today.” I may have heard Muriel hiss, and I turned to her magnanimously. “I thought the squirrel idea was pretty cute. Not bad for the first time out.”

“Gee. Thanks,” she replied, acid practically dripping from her mouth.

“If you ever want to bounce some ideas off me, my door’s always open,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes to glittering slits. “Thank you.”

I took a deep breath. You’re behaving very well, Michelle affirmed. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Have a great night.”

“Thanks, Callie,” Mark said, his eyes warm. “See?” I heard him say as I walked away. “She’s not out to get you, sweetpea.”

The last word hit me like a poison dart, and I had to force myself to keep going. Sweetpea. Mark had called me that once. In Santa Fe, in front of an antique jewelry store, when I’d paused to admire a charm bracelet. Come on, sweetpea. We have better things to do than shop. A hundred points for guessing what those better things were, but here’s a hint. Hotel. Bed. Two consenting adults.

So. Muriel was sweetpea now.

Freddie and I hung out for another couple hours, as neither of us had other plans. We ordered burgers, I switched to water, Freddie guzzled beer and we watched the Red Sox lose to the Angels in the tenth. M&M left in the sixth, I noted. They were crap fans. Didn’t even care about the Sox. Not that I really did, either, but still.

“I’ll drive you home, pal,” I said, as my newly legal brother was tipsy.

“I’ll walk,” he slurred.

“Nah. I’ll drive you. But I won’t tuck you in. You’re on your own from the driveway on.”

“’Kay. Thanks, sissy.”

Five minutes later, my brother had made it through the front door of the funeral home, and my forced good cheer dropped with a thud. The street was quiet; it was nearly midnight, and Georgebury wasn’t exactly known for its nightlife. For a few minutes, I just sat in my silent Prius and breathed.

Sweetpea.

Then, my heart both stony and sore, I put Lancelot into reverse and headed out again. But not toward home. Silencing my inner First Lady, I headed down Main Street, past Georgebury Academy. Took a left onto Camden Street and just before the hill veered steeply downward, came to a stop. Turned off my headlights and sat there.

Lights were on downstairs, warm and mellow. I rolled down my window. There was a chill in the air…autumn came fast to Vermont. Despite what the calendar said, summer had already left us. The slight breeze carried a snatch of music toward me… I couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded…sophisticated. Jazz, maybe.