“Googie,” she yelled.
“Yeah?” He moved the phone away from his ear.
“I thought you were going to fill up the pepper mills.”
He flushed. “Right. Yeah. I’ll get on it right away.”
Libby shook her head. He’d been with her for two years now. Usually he was pretty good, but every once in a while he just lost focus.
Bernie nodded for Libby to move away from Googie.
“He seems totally spaced out,” she said once they were standing near the sink.
“I told you. He’s got a new girlfriend.”
“He always has a girlfriend.”
“This one is different.”
“How so?”
“He’s in love.” Libby bracketed the word love with her fingers.
“I would think he’d want fewer hours, not more.”
“She’s got expensive taste.”
“How expensive?”
“She wants something from Prada.”
Bernie whistled. “That’s expensive. Even for me.”
“Do tell,” Libby answered. “And she wants it for Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s not very far away,” Bernie protested. “Maybe he should give her some nice chocolates.”
“Nope. Not good enough. I’ve already suggested that. And while we’re on the subject, Amber wants that day off.”
“Valentine’s Day? But we need her.”
“I know.” Libby took another nibble of the chicken salad. Much better. “Yeah. It’s going to be a real problem. Especially since we’ll be prepping for the benefit.” She shook her head. She wished she could do everything by herself. That way she wouldn’t need to deal with staff. “All I can say is that I’ll be glad when Valentine’s Day is over this year.”
“Hmm,” Bernie said. “Do you know the origin of Valentine’s Day?”
“No. And I don’t want to.”
“Rather grumpy, aren’t we?”
“I can’t imagine why,” Libby said. “First Ted Gorman and now Peter Hager. It has not been a good day.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Bernie agreed, “although I have to say there’s a big difference between dealing with a wayward corpse and a building inspector.”
“True.” Libby watched while her sister spun her silver and onyx ring around her finger.
“And let’s not forget that we missed the funeral on top of everything else.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear from Bree Nottingham.”
“I’m sure we will,” Bernie said. She smiled.
“What are you thinking?” Libby asked her.
“I’m thinking that we should go shopping.”
“We could go to Central Restaurant Supply and see about getting a meat slicer. They have a good one on sale there. “
“I was thinking more along the lines of buying shoes. Sexy shoes. How about a pair of red, sexy sling-backs? You could wear them on Valentine’s Day.”
“You just want to get my mind off the oven because you think I’ll forget about it.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that at all.”
“Yes, you were. Anyway, Marvin doesn’t care about stuff like that.”
“Of course he does. All men do. He’s just not admitting it.”
“He thinks shoes like that are stupid.”
Bernie snorted. “Right. He thinks that down-at-the-heel black flats are more attractive.”
“That is so not true,” Libby protested.
“That’s what I was saying.”
“I didn’t mean that and you know it.”
Libby was about to say something more when she heard the phone ring out front. Amber picked it up.
“Hello,” Libby heard Amber say. “A Little Taste of Heaven. How may I help you?”
“Libby,” she cried. “It’s for you. A Marnie Gorman. She sounds really upset.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Bernie said. “I guess Clayton told her.”
“I guess he did,” Libby agreed. “I think we can forget about shopping.”
“Unfortunately, so do I.”
Chapter 7
Just Chocolate was located in a little shopping mall about four miles outside Longely. As Bernie drove she thought about the store. Unlike A Little Taste of Heaven, Just Chocolate had grown and grown and grown. The Gormans had started their shop a little over ten years ago in a small storefront. Bernie remembered going there before she’d gone off to L.A. They’d been the first store in the area to do hand-dipped chocolates.
Business was good so they started selling chocolate novelty items. Then they’d bought the store next door and knocked down the walls, so they’d had a fairly large production area and a cute little counter area.
Next they’d gotten into corporate gifts and the mail order business, and before they knew it they were netting over a million a year—at least that’s what she’d heard from a couple of their suppliers. They were hosting the benefit in the rear of the shop because Bree Nottingham insisted that people always liked to see the behind-the-scenes stuff of successful places, and maybe Bree was right, Bernie reflected. Maybe they did. Unfortunately, Bree was usually right about everything.
“I feel so bad for her,” Libby said to Bernie as they rounded a turn on Palm Street.
Bernie didn’t answer. She was busy wondering about the name since there were no palm trees anywhere in the vicinity, let alone the state. Maybe it was the name of a person? But Palm was an odd name. When she had the time, she’d go down to the Historical Society and see what she could find out.
“Don’t you?” Libby asked.
“Of course I feel bad for her,” Bernie said.
Libby didn’t say anything, but out of the corner of her eye Bernie could see her nodding. After a few seconds Libby turned toward her.
“Having
