Page 78 of Save the Date
Monday morning hadn’t started well. It was hot. And sticky, and the box fans at Bloom did little more than circulate more hot, sticky air. At eight o’clock, Cara called Sylvia Bradley and left a message on her phone.
“Sylvia? This is Cara Kryzik calling again about the broken air-conditioning over here on Jones Street. I’m sorry about your mother, but I really, really need you to get somebody over here to see about replacing our unit. Please call me.”
At nine, she called again.
“Sylvia? Cara. It is eighty-eight degrees in my shop. Eighty-eight degrees! Upstairs it’s in the nineties. This is totally unacceptable. Please call and let me know when I can expect to have a new unit.”
Slamming the phone down, Cara got up and walked over to the fan, pulling her damp tank top away from her chest. She had a million things to do today, but the heat had already drained her of energy.
She was in the kitchenette, fetching another bottle of cold water, when she heard the shop bell tinkle.
“Cara?”
Crap. She knew that voice. Why today, of all days?
Forcing a smile, she walked into the front room. “Lillian! So nice to see you. And what a beautiful tan from Bermuda!”
Lillian Fanning did not return her smile. Actually, her narrow, carefully made-up face was more pink than tan, and Cara had a feeling it wasn’t just from the heat.
“What’s going on?” Lillian demanded, pointing at the dueling window fans. “It feels like a third-world country in here.”
“Our air-conditioning is broken. I’ve called our landlady but…”
“Appalling. Look, Cara,” Lillian interrupted. “This isn’t a social call. My epergne? Where is it?”
“Epergne?”
“Yes. My grandmother’s silver epergne that you used at Brooke’s reception.”
“Isn’t it with the rest of the silver? I mean, Bert delivered that silver to you Friday afternoon, didn’t he?”
“The rest of the silver, yes. It was in the kitchen when I got home late Friday. But not the epergne. The most valuable piece I own. Is it still here, Cara?”
Cara felt a familiar knot of fear and panic in the pit of her stomach. She tried to think, tried to remember if she’d actually seen the epergne in with the rest of the Fannings’ pieces.
“I… I don’t know, Lillian. I put the bin of silver in the back of the van Friday afternoon, and I guess I just assumed it was in there. You’re sure it’s not at your house?”
“Of course I’m sure! Sunday morning, I unpacked all of it. I wanted to polish everything before putting the pieces back in the tarnish-proof bags I keep them in. But the epergne wasn’t there.”
Cara’s mind raced. “Maybe it fell out of the bin. I can check in the back of the van.”
“You do that.” Lillian’s voice was steely. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll wait right here.”
“The thing is, I can’t. Bert, my assistant, is driving the van. He’s uh… out on a delivery.”
The truth of the matter was, her assistant was MIA again this morning. Along with the van, which he’d had over the weekend.
“Can you call him? Ask him to check to see if it’s there?”
“Of course.” Cara gestured toward the chair closest to the window and the fan. “Please sit. I’ll get you a bottle of water.…”
“I’m not thirsty.” She lifted her hair from the nape of her neck and exhaled noisily. “How do you stand this?”
“Be right back,” Cara said. She fled into the hallway with her cell phone and punched in Bert’s cell-phone number, which immediately went to voicemail.
“Bert! Where the hell are you? Lillian Fanning is standing in the shop with smoke coming out of her ears. Her epergne was missing from that bin of silver you dropped off Friday. I need you to check in the van to see if it fell out. Call me immediately, either way. Like right now!”
Cara reluctantly retraced her sheps to the front of the shop.
