risk leaving the cabinet filled and locked until Saturday’s event, when she hoped the extra customers would work down their inventory. After everything that happened, Olivia had simply forgotten to empty the drawer.
A small, ornate key fit both the glass doors and the drawer at the bottom. As Olivia unlocked the doors, she heard rapid scratching at the front door. It wasn’t the sound of Maddie’s key in the lock, unless Lucas had plied her with liquor at lunch. Maddie wasn’t much of a drinker, so a couple of mimosas might affect her aim.
The scratching became more frantic, this time accompanied by a distinct whine. Spunky. The little sneak had learned how to escape as Olivia left her apartment. If she was at all preoccupied, she wouldn’t notice him hiding in a dark corner of the landing.
“If you’re so smart, you can let yourself in.” Olivia’s voice sounded unusually loud and must have carried beyond the door, because Spunky stopped scratching and barked.
“Oh all right,” Olivia called, “don’t pout, I’ll come get you.” She pocketed the cabinet key and headed for the front door. “You’d better not be using the hall carpet as a pee pad,” she said. As she reached toward the knob, the door opened.
Maddie stood in the entryway, holding a squirming Yorkie. “Not to worry,” she said. “I went before I left the house.” She thrust Spunky into Olivia’s arms.
“So, Olivia Greyson, what’s the big emergency?” Maddie, already dressed for Tammy’s get-together, wore an emerald green, curve-hugging sweater dress. A tiny silver earring in the shape of a tulip cookie cutter dangled from each ear. Her springy hair was freshly washed and windblown, a look only she could pull off.
“Did I catch you in the shower?” Olivia asked.
“You sent me an SOS to discuss my bathing habits? Come on, Livie, what’s up? We’ve only got half an hour before we have to be at Tammy’s, and Lucas made it crystal clear that he did not want to arrive unaccompanied by his date.”
“Understood.” Olivia handed her Clarisse’s letter. “Here, read this while I start emptying the drawer.” Kneeling on the floor, she lifted out cookie cutters one by one and secured them inside a padded basket.
“Odd letter,” Maddie said. “You knew Clarisse way better than I did, but this doesn’t sound like her. Too dithery. Are you sure she didn’t have a drinking problem?”
“Quite sure.” Olivia stowed the letter in the basket of antiques. “I suspect the packet she left for me is in this drawer.”
Maddie hitched up her dress and knelt beside Olivia. “I see something.” She removed a red-handled Scottish terrier cutter made of tinplate steel during World War II. “Looks like the corner of an envelope.”
Olivia pushed aside a few remaining cutters and lifted a business-letter-size envelope out of the drawer. It was unsealed and addressed simply to “Olivia Greyson,” in Clarisse’s handwriting. Olivia reached inside and withdrew a folded piece of wide-ruled lined paper, the kind a schoolchild might use. She unfolded the paper and held it so Maddie could see.
“The light in here is terrible,” Maddie said, leaning in closer. “What does it say?”
Squinting, Olivia said, “The pencil mark is faint, as if the writer wasn’t bearing down hard enough. Let’s go over to the register. There’s a flashlight in the drawer.
Maddie checked her watch and groaned. “I have exactly six minutes to rescue Lucas from Tornado Tammy, so let’s step on it.”
“You go on ahead. I can be late. I can fill you in later.”
“Not a chance.” Maddie had the powerful legs of a hyperactive dancer, and she used them to shoot to her feet. By the time Olivia reached the sales counter, Maddie had found the flashlight and turned it on. Its bright light revealed no salutation. The letter itself was short, only a few lines, which read
You have a grandchild, and you need to step up and do what is right. It will be
A small, ornate key fit both the glass doors and the drawer at the bottom. As Olivia unlocked the doors, she heard rapid scratching at the front door. It wasn’t the sound of Maddie’s key in the lock, unless Lucas had plied her with liquor at lunch. Maddie wasn’t much of a drinker, so a couple of mimosas might affect her aim.
The scratching became more frantic, this time accompanied by a distinct whine. Spunky. The little sneak had learned how to escape as Olivia left her apartment. If she was at all preoccupied, she wouldn’t notice him hiding in a dark corner of the landing.
“If you’re so smart, you can let yourself in.” Olivia’s voice sounded unusually loud and must have carried beyond the door, because Spunky stopped scratching and barked.
“Oh all right,” Olivia called, “don’t pout, I’ll come get you.” She pocketed the cabinet key and headed for the front door. “You’d better not be using the hall carpet as a pee pad,” she said. As she reached toward the knob, the door opened.
Maddie stood in the entryway, holding a squirming Yorkie. “Not to worry,” she said. “I went before I left the house.” She thrust Spunky into Olivia’s arms.
“So, Olivia Greyson, what’s the big emergency?” Maddie, already dressed for Tammy’s get-together, wore an emerald green, curve-hugging sweater dress. A tiny silver earring in the shape of a tulip cookie cutter dangled from each ear. Her springy hair was freshly washed and windblown, a look only she could pull off.
“Did I catch you in the shower?” Olivia asked.
“You sent me an SOS to discuss my bathing habits? Come on, Livie, what’s up? We’ve only got half an hour before we have to be at Tammy’s, and Lucas made it crystal clear that he did not want to arrive unaccompanied by his date.”
“Understood.” Olivia handed her Clarisse’s letter. “Here, read this while I start emptying the drawer.” Kneeling on the floor, she lifted out cookie cutters one by one and secured them inside a padded basket.
“Odd letter,” Maddie said. “You knew Clarisse way better than I did, but this doesn’t sound like her. Too dithery. Are you sure she didn’t have a drinking problem?”
“Quite sure.” Olivia stowed the letter in the basket of antiques. “I suspect the packet she left for me is in this drawer.”
Maddie hitched up her dress and knelt beside Olivia. “I see something.” She removed a red-handled Scottish terrier cutter made of tinplate steel during World War II. “Looks like the corner of an envelope.”
Olivia pushed aside a few remaining cutters and lifted a business-letter-size envelope out of the drawer. It was unsealed and addressed simply to “Olivia Greyson,” in Clarisse’s handwriting. Olivia reached inside and withdrew a folded piece of wide-ruled lined paper, the kind a schoolchild might use. She unfolded the paper and held it so Maddie could see.
“The light in here is terrible,” Maddie said, leaning in closer. “What does it say?”
Squinting, Olivia said, “The pencil mark is faint, as if the writer wasn’t bearing down hard enough. Let’s go over to the register. There’s a flashlight in the drawer.
Maddie checked her watch and groaned. “I have exactly six minutes to rescue Lucas from Tornado Tammy, so let’s step on it.”
“You go on ahead. I can be late. I can fill you in later.”
“Not a chance.” Maddie had the powerful legs of a hyperactive dancer, and she used them to shoot to her feet. By the time Olivia reached the sales counter, Maddie had found the flashlight and turned it on. Its bright light revealed no salutation. The letter itself was short, only a few lines, which read
You have a grandchild, and you need to step up and do what is right. It will be
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