Free A Fatal Fleece by Sally Goldenbaum Page A

said suddenly, as if needing to share her happy evening.
    Tim, Peggy’s husband, motioned to Beverly that he was ready for her. She lifted her basket to the counter.
    Her hair was loose today, and she brushed it back from her cheek absently as she chatted with Tim. She seemed more at ease in her body than Nell remembered from the few times they’d been together. More relaxed. No. She seemed happy; that was the difference. The frown on her face and the slight hunch to her shouldershad been replaced with something lighter and brighter, and it had transformed her into a lovely, sensual woman.
    Maybe Merry Jackson was right. Beverly had someone special in her life. And that someone liked cheese and wine.
    Perhaps a dose of happiness would allow her to see her father in a new light. Nell was all for happy endings.
    The pot was simmering on the stove, nearly ready. Pitchers. Trays. Glasses. Knives. Everything they’d need.
    Outside the kitchen window the sky was deepening and sounds of Ben preparing the grill drifted in. In the distance a band began to play. The yacht club, Nell thought, leaning toward the window, listening to the happy sounds. And later there’d be fireworks over the ocean, celebrating a June wedding or anniversary or birthday. Signs of summer.
    She breathed in the magic of Sea Harbor. The joy of friends. And the deep satisfaction she felt getting ready to welcome them into the home she loved.
    The kitchen was the home’s soul, a major renovation project when she and Ben made his parents’ vacation home their permanent residence. They planned it together, and that’s what it meant to Nell: a piece of her, a piece of Ben—a shared dream. They had wanted an open space where friends would gather and chop and dice and drink in the pleasure of being together. And that’s exactly what it had become.
    At the other end of the open space, a smooth stone fireplace, flanked by a comfortable sofa and chairs, warmed them on winter nights. The room beckoned—and friends and family responded. Sisal rugs softened the cherry floors, and the light neutral palette of the furniture—tans and whites with hints of soft green—gave full play to the sky and pine trees, the sloping green lawn, and the ocean beyond the woods, a piece of it visible from every window along the back of the house.
    A slice of heaven.
    Sam Perry was the first to walk into Nell’s reverie, the sound of his boat shoes on the wood floors pulling her from her thoughts.
    “What’s this? And early. Aren’t you missing someone? Where’s your bride?”
    Sam dropped the bouquet on the kitchen island and wrapped Nell in a giant hug.
    “My amazing wife got stuck at the yarn shop, handling some crisis. So I’m here to help Ben with his martini making.” He found a vase on the shelf beneath the island and filled it with water, stopping only to breathe in the aromas of wine and basil and butter floating up from the pot.
    “The flowers are beautiful. Izzy has domesticated you, Sam. First a flower garden. Now a plot over at the community garden. What’s next?”
    Sam laughed. “You’re so subtle, Nell. But who knows? We have a house. A garden. A sailboat. Maybe we’ll get a dog next.”
    Nell laughed.
    “So how’s the scamp doing?” Sam asked.
    “You must mean Gabby.”
    Sam nodded. “Ben and I are taking her out on the sailboat soon. She’s quite the personality. A charmer.”
    “You must be talking about my granddaughter.” Birdie walked into the kitchen, carrying a bag of rolls from Garozzo’s Deli. “Step-granddaughter, I suppose I should say, but that doesn’t roll off my lips quite as easily. Granddaughter . Oh, my. I must admit, I’m beginning to like the taste of it. A week ago I was worried about her having to spend part of her summer with an old lady. What fun is that? But that doesn’t seem to be an issue with Gabby.”
    Sam took a bottle of olives from the refrigerator. “Old is definitely not an issue—not with you, not with