immediately.
“Oh, what a lovely place,” Angelica said, her head swiveling to take in the attractive foyer.
Tricia’s attention was drawn to the area as well. Polished white Carrara marble contrasted nicely with the darkened oak trim, which looked like it had never been painted. A bushy blooming Christmas cactus, which apparently didn’t know the season, sat on an oak plant stand just inside the door, a lovely splash of color against the buff-colored walls. There didn’t seem to be any kind of reception desk, and the three of them stood looking at each other for an awkward moment.
“It was so nice of you to offer the free accommodation,” Tricia said at last.
“I’m pleased we could get a few people in for our final shakedown before opening next week.”
“We’re very pleased we won the raffle,” Angelica gushed.
Pippa eyed Tricia. “Mr. Kelly had led me to believe
Angelica laughed and waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, that Bob. He’s such a kidder.”
Pippa seemed a tad annoyed that Bob wasn’t going to be her guest. Had she been counting on him telling his out-of-the-area real estate clients to book rooms with the inn? She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a key. “The other guests are already here. We have some complimentary sherry out in the main parlor if you’d like to join us once you’re settled in your room.” She handed the key to Angelica.
“Thank you,” she said. “Who else is here tonight?”
“Mary Fairchild and her husband, Luke. Chauncey Porter, and Clayton Ellington.”
“Clayton Ellington!” Tricia repeated, surprised.
Pippa blinked. “Is there some reason he shouldn’t be here?”
“No, I’m just surprised the owner of the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort would be here. I didn’t even know he attended Chamber meetings.”
“Maybe he’s checking out the competition-for the clothed, that is,” Angelica said with a smirk.
“Oh. I didn’t realize…” Pippa said, looking annoyed for the second time in less than two minutes.
“About the luggage,” Angelica said.
“Your suite is on the third floor. I’ll go find my husband, Jon, to give you a hand. If you’ll wait here.” She took off down the hall.
“Thank you,” Tricia said, grateful not to have to lug all Angelica’s junk up two flights of stairs. Pippa’s husband must have been the man she’d seen when they’d first arrived. Odd. There’d been something vaguely familiar about him. She shrugged it off.
“Nice place,” Angelica said, and craned her neck to see what was in the room to their right. “Do you think Mary, her husband, and Chauncey are in there?”
“Go look,” Tricia said, content to stand right where she was so that the top-heavy trolley didn’t topple.
Angelica tightened her grip on the large purse that hung from her shoulder and charged forward. She stopped at the open, wide doorway, looked around, frowned, and turned back to join Tricia. “So far there’s sherry glasses, but no one to drink out of them.”
Dragging the trolley, Tricia moved to stand beside her sister and took in the room. The sofa was Victorian with a rust brocade, with matching chairs. A marble-topped table held a magnificent floral arrangement in pretty pinks and purples, like those found in the lobby of a high-end hotel. Too bad the space was much too small to properly accommodate it.
“The guests are probably in their rooms or out to dinner. Speaking of dinner, I haven’t had any. And the inn only serves breakfast,” Tricia said.
“I thought of that. I’ve brought a few goodies for later, but we could still get a bite to eat at the Brookview Inn.”
“That’s all the way across town. The Bookshelf Diner is open until ten.”
Angelica frowned. “You know I don’t like to patronize my competition.”
“This is dinner, and your cafe only serves lunch,” Tricia reminded her.
“We can go there. I have some marvelous cassoulet in the fridge. It’ll only take a few minutes to reheat.”
“But then we’re going all the way back into the village anyway.”
“May I remind you my cafe is only three doors down from the Bookshelf Diner.”
“Okay, okay. But let’s just dump our stuff and go right back out again.”
Angelica looked down the hallway where Pippa had disappeared. “What’s taking that bellboy so long?”
“He’s not a bellboy, he’s one of the owners,” Tricia said, although she, too, was beginning to wonder where the man had disappeared.
Angelica frowned and cleared her throat. “Oh, let’s not wait.” She readjusted the purse on her shoulder and looked up the long staircase.
“Then you’re going to have to carry some of this. I can’t do it alone,” Tricia told her.
Angelica removed Tricia’s small duffel and her cosmetic case from the trolley, leaving Tricia to handle the biggest suitcase, and up the stairs she went.
Tricia was glad she was used to a two-flight hike several times a day, but at least there was a dumbwaiter at the back of her store, which meant she didn’t have to lug heavy objects and risk her back-and her life-with them on the stairs. The Sheer Comfort Inn had no such facilities.
By the time Tricia arrived at the top floor, she was ready for a sit-down. She barely had time to notice the back stairs-probably left over from the days when houses like this employed servants-before she entered the only room on the top floor. She hadn’t even had time to look around the suite before Angelica came out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. “Oh Trish, there’s a heavenly Jacuzzi tub in there, and look, here’s a wet bar and glasses. We could bring a bottle of wine back and enjoy it here while I work tonight.”
“You’re going to work tonight?”
“I need to draft a list of changes for my web designer, and I do have a deadline looming for my next cookbook, you know.”
Maybe that was another reason why Angelica hadn’t wanted to bring Bob.
Tricia sighed. There wasn’t even a TV for amusement, but then, as long as she had a book in her purse, she could be content anywhere.
Her stomach growled. She wanted to trudge down the stairs, drive back into the village, eat dinner, and then come all the way back to the inn like she wanted a tooth pulled. “Let’s go. It was a long day. I’m looking forward to putting my feet up”-she saw a leather recliner by the window-“and taking it easy.”
“Another bad day at Haven’t Got a Clue?” Angelica asked.
Tricia said nothing. She didn’t want to talk about it.
“Okay, let me change out of these clothes and we’ll go,” Angelica said. “There’s just one tiny problem.”
“Problem?” Tricia asked.
Angelica wagged a finger and beckoned Tricia to follow her into the bathroom.
Tricia followed, wondering what could be wrong with the necessary room. Angelica opened the door and a cheerful bark greeted the women. Sitting on the floor, looking as cute as a button, was Angelica’s bichon frise, Sarge.
“Oh no,” Tricia groaned. “Ange, the inn has a strict no-pets policy. Didn’t you read the brochure Bob gave you?”
“Well, of course I did. But I can’t leave Sarge all alone. He’s not a cat, you know. He isn’t litter box trained.” Sarge barked once more, as though agreeing with that statement. Angelica bent to pick up the dog, straightened, and shoved him into Tricia’s arms. “Now, you take Sarge out for a comfort walk while I get changed.”
Tricia shook her head and tried to offer the dog back, but Angelica bustled over to her suitcase, placed it on the luggage stand, and unzippered it. “I’ve got to get changed. You take Sarge out.”
“But they’ll see me.”
“Put him back in my purse. He’s used to staying in there. And he won’t make a peep.”
“He’s already barked.”
“He was just glad to see me again. Now go on. Take him down the back stairs.” She went back for her purse, took out a leash, and hooked it to Sarge’s collar. “There, now he can’t get away.”
“What if he needs…you know. A litter bag.”
“Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought of that.” Angelica went back into the bathroom, found a little plastic pouch in a
