“Wasn’t that Detective Mendelson? There must be something going on if they sent an actual detective.”
Lily watched as his car disappeared up the road, wondering if she’d been too quick to focus on her own worries. She’d assumed Sharon had been in her shop for a late appointment and had seen the delivery dropped off for Lily after dark. And that definitely would have looked suspicious. But if it wasn’t that?
A little icy fear trickled along her nerves. Were her old ghosts back to haunt her? Had Mendelson only been testing the waters?
She dragged a sleeve over her forehead to wipe off the nervous sweat. “He didn’t offer any specifics. Just asked if I’d seen anything out of the ordinary. A car, people, he wasn’t really clear.”
“Well, I’ll keep my eye out, and I’ll remind Nour to keep the alarm set when I’m not around. She always forgets, and she wears those dang sound mufflers when she’s using power tools. Someone could walk right in and steal the whole place right from under us, and she’d look up an hour later to an empty shop.”
Lily suspected Sharon was actually right about that. Nour was nothing like her wife. She kept her head down and her eyes focused on upholstery and woodworking, and she cared nothing for gossip. Then again, Sharon’s penchant for loose talk fit in perfectly with her front room job of going over fabrics with interior designers and their clients. She always had local stories to pass along, even if Lily had no idea who most of the people were.
Lily had been a part of the community when she’d first moved here, but trying to keep up with cleaning a house, cooking meals, and entertaining a toddler had consumed her free time. The only people she’d known had been other moms with young children.
And her husband’s clients, of course, but they made a point of not knowing her now.
“I hope this wasn’t about that big break-in at the pharmacy last week,” Sharon said with something suspiciously like glee. “Pill fiends! Maybe they’re looking to unload some goodies.” She glanced past Lily with narrowed eyes. “Anybody suspicious rent a locker recently? They could be hiding their stash while they wait for the heat to die down.”
“I hate to disappoint, but I haven’t rented out a new space in the past week. Things will probably be slow until summer moving season.”
“Well, keep your eyes peeled.”
“I will.”
Sharon started to turn, and Lily was sighing with relief when she abruptly swung back. “I almost forgot! Guess who my latest customer is? You’ll never believe it!” Without waiting for a response, she plunged into a breathless answer. “Kimmy Ross, Dr. Ross’s new wife! Oh my God, that has to be a big change after Francesca. No one was more shocked than I was that he got married so quickly after her death, but I suppose he is still a young man at fifty-one. And a thirty-year-old wife makes him even younger, I guess. Good Lord, she is not a fan of Francesca’s design aesthetic, let me tell you.”
Lily pressed her lips together, unwilling to reveal that she’d already suspected part of that story. Dr. Ross had moved some of his first wife’s old furniture into a storage unit just the month before. I can’t keep staring at it forever, he’d explained with a sad smile. Lily had suspected he’d happily keep the furniture if not for his new bride, and Sharon had just confirmed that.
“She’s tearing everything out,” Sharon added. “New kitchen, new bathroom, new paint, and some very expensive drapes and bedding. Gorgeous stuff. Teal and gray with brushed-nickel accents. Amazing they can afford that with his daughter in rehab, but that’s how it goes. Nour is making these stunning box valances for the bedroom. You should come over when they’re done.”
“Absolutely,” said Lily, taking a sidestep toward her office door. She’d try to avoid the visit, though. She didn’t enjoy oohing and aahing over furnishings she’d never be able to afford. Hell, she currently daydreamed of buying one of those basic Ikea beds with the attached bookshelves, so she definitely wasn’t springing for custom work anytime in the next twenty years.
Though maybe she could watch a few videos and learn how to make cute throw pillows. Sharon had offered scraps of her best fabrics in the past. Everett was twelve now. A better mom would’ve already upgraded him from his Adventure Time posters and SpongeBob pillowcases. His funny joke T-shirts rarely found their way to the laundry anymore. Her baby was growing up.
She could paint his bedroom and fix it up with more-mature décor, but . . . She sighed. Not until she’d finished her latest online coursework. Another bullet point of guilt to add to her endless list.