orchids that last.”
Sydney gestured to Lilian to come on over, and within minutes they were all in her conservatory, where Lilian launched into an excited exposition about the orchids and other rare plants that grew there.
Bella asked about special earth for the orchids, and Lilian admitted that her gardener knew everything about that. “I can ask him and let you know? Maybe we can do lunch before you leave town again?”
“That would be lovely,” Bella accepted with a smile. She used her big fan to wave cold air onto her face. Vicky had to admit it was pretty hot in the conservatory. Outside the day drew to a close, and in the deepening darkness the lanterns gave a fairy tale like atmosphere to the grounds. People were walking there, arm in arm, talking, laughing. Everybody seemed to be having fun.
As they came out into the hall again, Sydney was leading some men upstairs.
“I bet they are going to play pool.” Lilian’s disapproval showed in her face. “Sydney never liked a lot of socializing and dancing. I wish he would try though and stay in the party mood a little longer.”
Vicky spied round for Michael and saw him talking to Lisa Coombs. She was staring down at her feet, barely daring to look up at him. At the first chance she got she escaped to the outside. Vicky wondered if she felt as unhappy in her job as Marge had surmised.
Returning her attention to the other guests, Vicky accepted a glass of mineral water from a passing waiter and took a few refreshing sips. People were dancing in the big room to the left, to the tunes of a real orchestra. Vicky spotted Marge and Kevin gazing into each other’s eyes as if they were newlyweds. Michael had told her to save a dance for him, so she hoped he would come over soon. In the meantime she might take a spin with Cash. He had always been a good dancer.
She looked around for him and saw him at the other end of the room talking to a man in a gray suit—underdressed compared to the other guests. A waiter? Or some other member of the extensive staff hired to let everything run smoothly tonight?
Cash’s expression was worried, and he shook his head repeatedly. Then he raked through his hair, his well-known gesture of helplessness.
Vicky wondered what the man was asking him. It was obviously something Cash did not want to help out with. Why did he not simply refer the man to Lilian or Deke? They were the hosts of this party—although Lilian’s brother Sydney had been by her side earlier and acting like he was in charge. Apparently the Havertons all had quite domineering personalities.
Marge came up and whispered she had seen the refurbished dining room and spotted fabrics purchased through the Country Gift Shop. “I hope her friends love it and ask where she got it. Could bring us new customers. Decorating people’s homes will bring you more cash flow than just selling a few items in the store.”
“Right. I’m also thinking ahead to the festive season already. Companies like to gift something to their business relations for Christmas. Maybe we can do special British-themed sets for those?”
Vicky froze as she saw the man in the gray suit walk away. Something about the way he moved reminded her of someone.
Mr. Giverny, the nosy journalist who had tried to see Bella.
But as he had talked to Cash, she had seen his face clearly and he had not had a mustache. Had he shaved to change his appearance?
Had the mustache really been a paste-on?
Marge was saying, “Good idea. By the way, where is Bella? I haven’t seen her for some time.”
Vicky looked around. She didn’t see the flamboyant figure of the mystery author anywhere among the dancers. Or among the people walking around in the lantern light outside.
An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach.
“Maybe she went back to the conservatory,” Vicky said to Marge. “She was fascinated with the orchids. I bet she wants to use them in a new book. I’ll go see if I can find her.”
Vicky went into the conservatory softly and spotted two figures inside, melted into a passionate embrace. Paul DuBree panted as he kissed the woman again and again. But it was not his blonde companion for the night. That woman had worn her blonde hair loose with a conspicuous lime fascinator. This woman wore a large hat, and the single lock of hair on her back, which escaped from her do under the hat, was clearly dark.
Lisa Coombs?
If it really was the timid assistant, she had morphed into a femme fatale.
Vicky hastily retreated. As she came back into the hall, she saw Bella come down the stairs with Sydney Haverton. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled. She leaned heavily on the young man’s arm, whispering something into his ear. As she spotted Vicky, she waved at her. “Delightful party. Thanks so much for taking me along.”
Vicky answered with a wide smile. It was a relief to see Bella safe and sound, having fun. Then a hand landed on her arm. Michael stood by her side. “May I have this dance?”
She looked up into his warm brown eyes and forgot all about her guest. She had wanted to dance with Michael Danning at their college dances but he had never asked her. Of course she wasn’t nineteen anymore, but the idea she’d finally have her dance made her heartbeat skip. “Yes, please.”
Still she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you know someone called Giverny, working for a Haven Herald?”
“No. I don’t think there is a Haven Herald around these parts. Then again I don’t know each and every publication. It could be a weekly or monthly thing. Or a special summer magazine for the tourists maybe. How come?”
“Never mind.” She had promised Marge no more business tonight. “Let’s dance.”
Michael led her into the room where the orchestra was playing and put his arm around her waist. They fell into step with one another, following the slow enchanting rhythm of the music. They flew around the room, the figures of the people around them just a blur of colors.
Vicky closed her eyes a moment and let the music carry her. This dance should last forever. This perfect night of being with friends, feeling alive and happy and carefree. In a place she didn’t want to leave again.
The next morning Vicky awoke to the sound of someone banging on something. Her head seemed to bang along. She turned over under her duvet and tried to ignore the noise. She needed sleep.
Then she realized it was banging at the door of her cottage. She opened an eye and spied for the alarm clock.
Seven-thirty?
Who was asking for her attention at this insanely early hour?
Her store didn’t open till ten on Saturdays so she had hoped to be able to sleep in. After the party last night her head was a little fuzzy and her feet sore from the dancing in high heels. There had been so much dancing, with Michael and with Cash, even with Sydney Haverton who had turned out to be a good dancer who could make her laugh too.
It had been well after one o’clock when they had left the party. Michael had been late for his input at the paper and had dropped her off at the cottage with a quick good-bye, promising they’d catch up on his Copenhagen trip later.
Vicky had gone in and had done a little solo dancing in her hallway, moving around with her eyes closed and her head full of the intoxicating music. Then she had put the rose from the corsage in water, hoping it would last a day or two to look at.
The banging continued, and Vicky crawled out of bed, put on her soft pink dressing gown and low slippers, and staggered to her front door. She pulled it open and blinked at…
Lilian?
Vicky’s eyes opened wide. The fuzziness cleared with the shock of this sudden sight.
What on earth was posh Lilian Haverton Rowland doing at Vicky’s cottage early in the morning, looking like she hadn’t slept all night?
“I’m sorry,” Lilian