Free Bookplate Special by Lorna Barrett Page A

working two jobs, I’ve been trying to find a second job, and somehow we have to find the time to work on the house. And . . . oh, everything is all messed up.”
    “If I thought the news would upset you, I never would have mentioned it,” Mr. Everett apologized, obviously distressed by Ginny’s reaction. His words only made her cry harder.
    “I’m so sorry, Mr. Everett. I’m very happy for you and Grace,” Ginny managed. “And I hate myself for being so terribly jealous, but I can’t help it.”
    Tricia pulled Ginny into an awkward embrace. “You and Brian will get married someday, and I’m sure it’ll be a lovely ceremony.”
    Ginny’s sobs increased, and she waved her ringless hand in the air. “We’re not even officially en-en-gaged.”
    “Oh, dear—oh, dear,” Mr. Everett said.
    The shop door opened, the little bell above it jangling cheerfully. Two women stepped into the store, took in the scene, and quickly retreated.
    “Oh, dear—oh, dear,” Mr. Everett repeated, his heavily veined hands clenched, no doubt to keep from wringing them.
    “Come on, Ginny, let’s go upstairs,” Tricia said, and guided her employee toward the back of the shop and the stairs leading to her loft apartment.
    “I’ll take care of things here,” Mr. Everett called with relief.
    Tricia opened the door marked PRIVATE and led the way up the stairs. She unlocked the apartment door and Ginny followed her in. Her sobs had wound down to sniffling, and Tricia led her to one of the stools in front of the kitchen island. “Would you like some cocoa?”
    Ginny wiped a hand over her eyes. “Yes, please.” She sounded about twelve years old.
    Tricia filled her electric kettle with water and plugged it in. She watched as Ginny snatched a paper napkin from the holder and blew her nose. She blinked a few times and took in the kitchen with its sparking white, painted cabinets, granite counters, and thirteen-foot ceiling. “Wow, this is a great space,” she managed, and hiccuped. “And there’s no drywall dust or exposed wiring. I’d almost forgotten how real people live.”
    “When you’ve finished all your renovations, you’ll have a lovely home, too.”
    Ginny sniffed and shrugged.
    Tricia took a couple of mugs from the cabinet and found the cylinder of Ghirardelli Chocolate Mocha Hot Cocoa mix. She measured out the powder. The kettle was starting to sound like an engine—a prelude to boiling. “It won’t be long now,” Tricia said.
    “I wish I led a charmed life like you,” Ginny said, and sighed.
    “Me? I’m divorced, my sister lives next door, and I keep discovering dead bodies. How charmed is that?”
    “At least you have your sister nearby. Since Mom and Dad moved south, I sometimes feel like I’m all alone here in Stoneham.”
    “What about Brian?”
    “He works so much we hardly ever see each other.” She let out another shuddering sigh.
    “Seems like you need to make plans for the future. Give yourself a goal. How big a wedding do you want?”
    “Not big at all,” Ginny said. “I’d like to have our friends, our parents, and some of the people here in the village—like you and Mr. Everett and Grace, and Frannie and Nikki, and our friends Pete and Lisa. Nothing really big.”
    “Have you ever heard of a potluck wedding?”
    Ginny shook her head. “No.”
    “You could rent a picnic shelter, invite your friends to bring a dish to pass—just like an old-fashioned wedding.”
    “Is that what you did when you got married?”
    Tricia thought about the cathedral, the eight attendants, the five-tiered wedding cake with masses of colorful fondant flowers, and the princess gown and veil. “Not exactly,” she said. “But if I had it to do over again, I’d have a much simpler affair.” Easy to say, now that the marriage had failed. And, the truth was, she’d loved every minute of the preparations, the ceremony, and the reception. Ending the marriage hadn’t been Tricia’s idea.
    “If simple is