Sleeping With Anemone Part 8

"Oh, sweetie," Lottie said, and dropped her bag to come hug me. Grace headed for the parlor, no doubt to get me a cup of tea.

"Take a few deep breaths," Lottie instructed. "It'll clear your head."

The bell jingled and Marco stepped inside, his jaw dropping as he glanced around.

"Did they wreck the other rooms?" I asked.

"The workroom," Lottie said sadly.

My haven! Marco put his arms around me, holding me close as I fought back tears. "Want me to check out the damage?" he asked.

"Please," I said. I waited until he'd gone through the curtain; then I turned to Reilly. "This is Uniworld's doing, Reilly, and it has to stop!"

"Abby, I talked to Raand a half hour ago," Reilly said. "He stated that Uniworld had nothing to do with the letters, the brick incident, the attempted carjacking, or the kidnapping."

"And you believed him?"

"Raand is squeaky clean, Abby. No record whatsoever. More important, he threatened to sue the department and the town if we continue to hara.s.s him or Uniworld. So we'll take fingerprints and see what other evidence we can find, but in the absence of any solid proof, I don't know what more we can do."

"Well, there's something more I can do," I said. "I'll hold a press conference to let the public know what Uniworld has been doing to hara.s.s and intimidate me."

"Abby," Reilly said, "before you take that step-"

"Do nottry to talk me out of it, Reilly. They can't be allowed to pull this c.r.a.p."

"Sweetie," Lottie said, "can I make a comment here? What if Uniworld isn't behind the break-in? What if it was a plain ol' robbery?"

"After everything else that's happened?" I asked. "Isn't that a little too coincidental?"

"Lottie," Reilly said, "why did you mention robbery? Are you missing any cash?"

"No, thank the Lord, they didn't find our cash," she said. "I mentioned it because of what happened while Abby was at the Home and Garden Show Sat.u.r.day morning. A UPS man came by asking for a package he claimed was delivered here by mistake. Thing was, he wasn't our usual UPS man, and we haven't had anybody else's package delivered here. Plus he was looking around, nosy as all get-out.

"So I started asking questions, like how long he'd worked for UPS and where our regular guy was, making him as twitchy as a cat's tail. When I asked where he left his van-you know how our guy leaves it at the mouth of the alley-he said he must have the wrong business, and took off. So now I'm wondering if he was casing the shop."

Reilly looked pensive. "How old was he?"

"Maybe twenty, twenty-one," Lottie said.

"There haven't been any other robberies on the square recently," Reilly said as Marco emerged from the workroom, "but businesses on the north side of town have had a string of break-ins, mostly smash-and-grabs for whatever cash they can find. We think it's a gang of teenagers looking for drug money. Maybe the gang is changing locations."

"Would they really target a small flower shop?" I asked.

"Why not?" Reilly said. "They're not bank robbers. They're looking for easy access. Maybe they got frustrated when they couldn't find any cash and decided to tear up the shop."

"Was the alarm tripped?" Marco asked.

"No," Lottie said. "I found the door open and walked in to this mess."

"How would teens know how to bypa.s.s our alarm system?" I asked Reilly.

"It's not easy," Reilly admitted, "but it can be done. Kids today are techno-geeks. The more robberies this gang commits, the better they get. We can't rule them out."

I still wasn't convinced, but how could I prove it was Uniworld?

Marco's gaze met mine and I knew what he was going to say. I just didn't want to hear it. "If I give up now," I told him, "Uniworld wins."

"I think they've already won, Sunshine."

At lunchtime, we took a short break from cleaning to get a bite to eat. Lottie headed out to pick up a sandwich from the deli, and Grace went home, wanting to change into something more suitable. Marco brought me a bowl of chili, but couldn't stay. Rafe needed a ride to a job interview, so Marco promised he'd be back later to help with the cleanup.

While Lottie ate her sandwich in the kitchen, I sat by myself in the parlor at a table in front of the bay window, taking comfort in the hot, spicy stew of ground beef, tomatoes, onions, chili peppers, cinnamon, and black beans. I turned my chair so I couldn't see the mess in the shop and gazed outside instead. There sat the stately limestone courthouse, the symbol of justice. It almost seemed to mock me. Was there justice when big money was involved?

I sighed, feeling blue. I couldn't continue to suffer Uniworld's backlash and hope to keep my business running. I couldn't subject Lottie and Grace to possible danger, either, and I couldn't ask Marco to babysit me forever. So did I even have a choice?

I spotted Peter Chinn ambling across the courthouse lawn, heading toward Franklin Street, turning up the collar of his black wool topcoat. There was no mistaking New Chapel's a.s.sistant city attorney. In his late thirties, Chinn was half Asian, half Caucasian, and quite obese. He had short, black hair, small eyes, an upturned nose, a small mouth, and a chin buried in rolls of flesh. I watched as he stopped at the realty next door, then came toward Bloomers, a stack of pamphlets in his hand. I went to the door and unlocked it, opening it a few inches.

"I'm handing out schedules of town meetings," he said, offering me one. "We're giving them to all local business owners."

I took one and looked it over. "I'm surprised a busy man like you would have time for this, when you don't seem to have a moment to answer even one quick e-mail."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Can I come in for a minute? We need to talk."

So now he wanted to chat? I opened the door wide. "Sure. Come see what your pals at Uniworld did."

He stepped inside and gazed around, his face going slack as he took in the extent of the damage. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. Looks like I should install stronger locks. Or do I need to submit a request for that so you and the committee can ignore it, too?"

He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead, which was beaded with sweat despite the cold temp. "I'm taking a risk coming here, so cut the sarcasm. I had nothing to do with this, nor do I know who did. And just to make this clear, I don't handle the Uniworld account. I don't even know which attorney in our firm does. But I can tell you that if you want that new door and ramp installed, you need to stop your campaign against the dairy farm."

"So you don't handle the Uniworld account; you just deliver their threats?"

"This is merely a friendly tip from me to you. Give me your word that you and your supporters won't oppose the farm opening, and you can start looking for a contractor."

One word. It was that simple. Lottie and Grace would certainly be relieved, as would Marco, Nikki, and my parents. Plus, I could stop worrying about losing Bloomers; I wouldn't need an escort; and I could get my car back. But could I live with my conscience?

"Explain something to me, please, Mr. Chinn. How does my stand against the dairy farm affect my request for a new door and ramp?"

"Just tell me yes or no," he snapped.

Before Chinn's arrival I probably would have jumped at the chance to make the trouble go away. But his thinly veiled threat made me angry all over again. Still, could I afford to turn down his offer? "I'll have to think about it."

"Don't take too long, Ms. Knight. You have no idea what you're up against." He opened the door, pausing to say, "And if you tell anyone about this conversation, I'll deny it."

Lottie came through the curtain just as Chinn left. "What the heck did he want?"

If I told her, I knew she'd be upset that I didn't accept his offer. I handed her the brochure. "He left this for us."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

It took the rest of the week to get Bloomers back up to speed. We had to scrub and polish the wood floors, restock flowers, repair cabinets, and replace vases, candlesticks, bric-a-brac, and all the other gift items that had been broken, plus keep the coffee-and-tea parlor open to generate some income. And although our insurance policy covered most of the damage, I could still feel the swoosh of air through my wallet as money drained out.

Adding to my anxiety, I hadn't made a decision about my position on the dairy farm, and the opening date was less than a month away. Before Peter Chinn's visit, I'd managed to send e-mail alerts to people who'd volunteered to help, encouraging them to collect signatures for the pet.i.tion and get them back to me, but none had come in yet. Frankly, I was almost relieved. Repairing my flower shop had to come first. At least Uniworld seemed to have halted its attacks, perhaps waiting to see what I would do.

My parents were appalled by the break-in, but Mom wasn't all that upset about her art deco brooch having gone missing. She a.s.sumed it had been trashed along with everything else, and we didn't see the need to tell her otherwise. I also didn't voice my suspicions about who was behind it, and as it turned out, I didn't need to. They'd already concluded it was Uniworld and were adamant that I not do anything to put myself in further danger. Luckily, I could tell them with a clear conscience that I hadn't scheduled any more protests. Yet.

By the end of the week, Dad had seen to the installation of a stronger dead bolt and a better alarm system, and had sat down with Marco for a face-to-face on how Marco was going to keep me safe, as if a former Army Ranger wouldn't know. Marco was a good sport about it, though, which went straight into his plus column.

Mom did her part by delivering a new brooch, a copy so good I had no problem putting it out on the middle shelf of the armoire. Unfortunately, with the brooch came the name of another wedding caterer Mom felt sure I'd want to interview, just so I'd be ahead of the game when the time came to get married. I tucked it in a file marked Someday.

Finally, we were ready to announce our grand reopening to take place the following week on Valentine's Day. So, on Friday morning, we strung a banner across the bay windows outside, and crossed our fingers. Fortunately, it worked. From the moment we opened our doors on Valentine's Day, customers flocked in, and the ring of the cash register had Grace, Lottie, and me smiling for the first time in a long while. At that moment I truly believed I'd faced down the worst that could happen.

Tara phoned in the middle of the Valentine's Day rush to complain that her parents were rethinking the idea of letting her attend the concert. Apparently, my cousin Jillian's attempted kidnapping, along with the break-in and threatening letters, had rattled Tara's parents enough that they didn't want their only child exposed to potential harm.

"Please, Aunt Abby!" she cried. "You have to talk to them. I'll die if I miss the BBs."

"I'll figure out something," I a.s.sured her, then placed a call to my brother. After I'd spent fifteen minutes arguing Tara's case, it came down to Tara staying home or my brother and Kathy attending the concert with us, only sitting discreetly in the back.

"You won't get tickets at this late date," I argued.

"You're forgetting the scalpers," Jordan said. "I know a guy who can get two tickets for me, no problem."

"Bragger! It'll cost you plenty, and you'll probably have to stand."

"I don't think so. But hey, my daughter is worth it." Knowing Tara would paint herself chartreuse before being seen with her mom and dad, I made Jordan promise to let Tara ride with us. Then I called Tara with the good news.

"Awesome! Thank you sooooo much for everything, Aunt Abby," she cried. "Don't forget I want to get there early to buy a Barrow Boys T-shirt. So I'll see you and Uncle Marco at six, okay? Bye."

"Hey, what did I tell you about calling him-" Too late. She'd hung up.

It wasn't until five o'clock, when we turned our sign to CLOSED, that we were able to sit down and take stock. Grace, efficient as always, had tea and scones waiting, so the three of us took a welcome break at a table in the parlor.

"How much do you think we made today?" I asked Lottie.

"Enough to keep us afloat for a few more months," she said.

"And it won't be long until Easter," Grace reminded us. "Another big cash holiday."

My cell phone rang, Marco checking in. "We had our busiest day of the year," I told him.

"Good for you, Sunshine. Hey, do you need to go home to change for the concert?"

The concert! I glanced down at my outfit-turtleneck sweater, brown pants, brown boots-then hopped up and started for the back. "Nope. I just need to clean up here first."

"Don't worry about that, sweetie," Lottie called. "We'll cover. Just go have fun."

Marco took Tara and me in the Prius, with Tara's parents following at a safe distance in their car. Although we arrived early, the Expo Center parking lot was nearly full, so we had to park in an out-lot bordering the two-lane state highway and hike a half mile over frozen ground. When at last the gla.s.s double doors of the Expo Center were within sight, so was a long line of fans waiting to get into the main lobby.

Once we finally made it inside, Tara shuffled Marco and me past the food stands lining the inside wall of the lobby, straight over to the souvenir booth, where she selected a lime green hoodie for herself, then decided I should have one, too. On the front was the Barrow Boys' logo in shiny black surrounded by hot pink and lemon yellow hearts, a perfect match for her glossy pink clutch purse and the skinny, colored plastic headbands in her hair.

Since it was her birthday, I obliged her by tugging the hoodie over my turtleneck sweater-not a look I particularly liked. Tara, beside me, said, "Aren't we awesome?"

"Practically twins," Marco said, with a wink to me.

"Wait!" Tara said, and removed two of her headbands to put in my hair.

I hated headbands. They made my ears stick out. But it was Tara's birthday . . . and how long was that excuse going to hold up?

"I want to get a photo of the two of you," Kathy whispered in my ear, then tiptoed off before Tara could see her.

I put an arm around Tara so Kathy could snap a picture. Then Marco, Tara, and I presented our tickets and headed into the main hall, while my brother and sister-in-law squeezed into the back to stand and watch the show. So much for Jordan's scalper friend.

The Expo Center had been transformed from exhibit hall to concert hall, with a stage lit by enormous spotlights, a backdrop of flashing colored lights, gleaming instruments on black metal stands, and giant speakers blasting Barrow Boys songs.

"I'm so excited," Tara said, bouncing on the wooden folding chair. "I can't believe I'm going to see the BBs in person! Thank you so, so, so much, Aunt Abby and Uncle Marco."

She shifted away before I could elbow her.

"Thanks for inviting me," Marco said.

Like he had a choice. A week into being my escort, he had yet to complain about being there early to take me to Bloomers, or leaving the bar at a busy time to bring me home, or running my Vette through the car wash because he always chose routes with slushy puddles even though I suggested better ways to get there. What a sport!

At seven thirty, the show kicked off with a warm-up band; then, at eight thirty, amidst earsplitting screams, the Barrow Boys swaggered onstage, took up their instruments, and began to play their new hit song, something about never-ending love, although I barely heard any of it. Marco seemed to be enjoying the music, yet I could see he was also keeping an eye out for trouble. Ever the vigilant guardian.

At the intermission, with Tara declaring the need for a bathroom break, Marco surveyed the huge number of teens flocking out the exit and decided it would be best to meet Kathy in front of the ladies' room and have Kathy accompany Tara inside, while Jordan stayed with me.

"I have to go with my mom?" Tara cried as Marco used his cell phone to call Jordan.

He held his hand over the phone to whisper, "You can pretend you don't know her."

At Tara's pleading look, I waited until Marco had finished his call, then said, "I can take her to the ladies' room."

"You'll be more secure staying here in plain view of the off-duty cops posted around the room," Marco replied, donning his Army Ranger persona. "We could be separated in the lobby. My cell phone is on vibrate and ring so you can reach me no matter what, but if anyone seems the least bit suspicious, yell for help first. The security cops will be here in seconds. Let's go, Tara, or you'll miss the BB's first number."

With one backward scowl at me, Tara hurried after him. As soon as she had cleared the aisle, my brother scooted in from the other side and sat down.

"Feet hurt?" I asked with a snicker.

"My daughter is worth every penny."

"How many pennies would that be?"