for the goodies,” Elizabeth said. “They really are welcome.” More than this mortal could ever guess.
“Enjoy. It’s really just a not too subtle way of pushing my wares. Oh, is it true you’re opening a craft market and center here?”
“Yes. We plan to open in September and be in full swing for Christmas. We’re going to be selective, but if you know any local artists or craftspeople who might be interested, spread the word.”
“I will.” She frowned as if thinking. “The vicar’s mother-in-law does watercolors of kittens and puppies, but I don’t think they’re the sort of thing you’re after.” Antonia tactfully nodded. Emma went on, “There’s the Misses Black. Old, old ladies—one’s almost blind, but they do knitting. Some of it is beautiful. And you might want to contact Michael Langton. His stuff has been in galleries and shows in Town.”
“A painter?” Antonia asked, not recognizing the name.
“A potter. Lives out on the edge of the common. A bit of a recluse, but he does make beautiful stuff. Someone gave us one of his lamps as a wedding present.”
“We’ll check him out,” Elizabeth said.
“Bye.”
As the door closed on Emma, Elizabeth made a pounce for the basket. A baguette filled with slices of rare steak and a packet of chicken goujons disappeared as she wolfed them down. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth on one of the neatly folded napkins tucked in the side of the basket. “The smell was driving me crazy. Hadn’t realized how much I needed food.”
Antonia gave her a wry look. “I’m glad you managed to contain yourself. Might have put Emma off a bit, finding her nice new neighbors gnawed their food.”
“Darn tasty—for cooked meat, that is. Mind you, who are you to talk? Good thing she didn’t peek in the cooler you have in the kitchen.”
“True,” Antonia agreed. “With people coming in and out, we’d better get a fridge and keep it in the attics over the kitchen. We can leave those rooms untouched for a while.”
Elizabeth nodded as she gathered up the remains of the picnic basket: fruit tarts, some sort of pâte and crackers, and a generous bowl of salad. “Pity we have to toss these. If Sam were here, he’d make short work of them.”
“But since he and Stella aren’t due for another week…”
“I know, I know. It’s just Adela did such a job on me about not wasting anything in the Universe.” Elizabeth sighed, thinking how much she really missed her stepmother.
“Out of curiosity,” Antonia asked, “was the food good?”
“Yeah! Very good, in fact. I’m not that great on sausage rolls, but those were good, and the chicken was delicious.”
“Good enough to consider for our tearoom?”
Why not? “Definitely. She does catering after all, and heck, this would be convenient for her.”
“Better keep her in mind.” Antonia glanced out of the French windows. “Assuming it ever gets built.”
“It will! Use your vampire mind control if they drag their feet.”
That got her a raised eyebrow. “Isn’t it time we checked into the hotel? Let’s do that, then go over to Collins Car Hire. I need transport.”
“Monica’s gone to get the boys from school,” the gray-haired woman said, watching Elizabeth with sharp, intelligent eyes. “She left the keys and the forms for you to sign. I can take care of it if you’ll give me your license.”
Elizabeth put her license and credit card on the counter—her real ones, now recovered at long last—and waved at Antonia through the open door. If she had fridge buying to do, no point in waiting, and besides, on her own, Elizabeth might find inclined to chat a bit.
“You must be Ida Collins.”
The woman looked up from studying the license, raised a gray eyebrow, and nodded. “I am. This was my son’s business. I help my daughter-in-law with it now. American, aren’t you?” Elizabeth agreed, she was. “You bought Orchard House?”
“No, my employer did. I’m just going to be working down here, so I’ll need a car.”
“Is your employer American?”
“Antonia? No, she’s British.” No need to say just how ancient a Briton she was.
Ida copied down the license number. “After the previous owner, I wondered. She was American, you know?”
“I do. It was through Dixie that I learned about the house being on the market.”
“I wish your employer better luck than the last owner.” Ida pushed the license back across the counter. Elizabeth closed her hand over the plastic rectangle and hesitated, hoping Ida would say more.
She didn’t.
“Dixie didn’t talk much about Bringham. Said just that she’d inherited the house from distant relatives and they sounded like local characters.”
“Characters!” Ida almost spat it out. “Nasty, tightfisted, spiteful old bisoms they were.” She paused as if about to say more. Elizabeth waited, but Ida had gone silent.
“Dixie mentioned finding books on herb lore and Wicca in the house.”
As a conversational probe, that wasn’t much help. Ida nodded. “Those two were always up to something.”
“And according to Dixie, they blatantly ignored the Reede to do harm to none.” That earned her a sharp look, but nothing more. Ida just finished filling in the forms and reached over to a hook for a set of keys. “My stepmother is a practicing Wiccan. She taught me a fair bit, and I wondered if there’s anyone around who practices the old ways.”
The keys jangled as Ida slapped them on the countertop. “You’re new here. If you’re planning on staying around a bit, don’t mention witches, Wiccans, or whatever you call them to anyone. No one wants to hear anything about that. Not now!” She turned the paper around so it faced Elizabeth. “Sign here and here and initial those three boxes. You’ve got the car for a month. If you want it longer, let us know.”
She’d been fishing for a response and certainly caught one. Interesting. “Thanks.”
Ida separated the back copy and handed it to Elizabeth with the key. “The car’s the red one. Fred’ll show you.” She called behind the service center, “Fred, customer’s ready for the red Fiat.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “Sorry if I offended you.”
Ida acknowledged the attempt at conciliation. “You weren’t to know. I doubt Dixie told you all that happened here. Come to that, she couldn’t. Half the trouble was after she left, and I don’t blame her running off the way she did. Must have scared the willies out of her. Someone tried to kill her.”
And finally succeeded, but that was
