Free Murder in Merino by Sally Goldenbaum Page B

from Karen’s embarrassment. But the absent look on Karen’s face stopped her short from expounding on the dramatic cover. “Karen? Are you all right?”
    Her face was the color of Archie’s gray, sea-washed door.
    “I should have been paying attention to where I was going. My mind was elsewhere.” She stood up and handed Birdie her books.
    “Campaigns can be killers,” Birdie said. “We understand.”
    “Yes.” The single word carried unusual force and brought some color to her face. “But Stan and I will get through this.” She paused, then said, with clear determination, light coming back into her eyes, “Stan will handle it. He will. He promised me —”
    Nell wondered briefly whether Beatrice Scaglia had anything to do with Karen’s distress. It was out of proportion to a few dropped books. But before she could ask, a familiar voice shouted at them from across the street.
    “Miz Favazza!”
    It had come from Gus McClucken’s hardware store and was followed by a truck screeching to a stop as Stella Palazola, her hair flying behind her, raced in front of Shelby Picard’s tow truck. She sent an apologetic wave to the frustrated mechanic.
    “Stella, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Birdie said as the Realtor leapt up on the curb and rushed across the sidewalk.
    But Stella heard none of it. She wrapped her arms around Birdie and spun her in a circle, lifting her small feet clear off the sidewalk.
    “Stella?” Birdie mumbled from the folds of the young woman’s sweater.
    Finally Stella released her and took a step back. Her green eyes sparkled. “You’re like my guardian angel.” She turned toward Nell and gave her a quick hug. “You, too, Miz Endicott. Two guardian angels. Aren’t they the best, Miz Hanson? And that’s why I’m so lucky. Can you believe it?”
    “Believe what?” Birdie asked. She had known Stella since she was born, and she also knew her enthusiasm could signal a range of things—from a lottery win to an invitation to a party, or the fact that she’d finally found her favorite shoes on sale. Patience would eventually be rewarded by clarification.
    “It’s the house,” Stella said breathlessly. Her cheeks were bright pink. “Izzy’s house.
My
house. My first listing.”
    “Izzy has a fine Realtor, that’s for sure. You’re going to do a great job,” Nell said.
    “Izzy and Sam are selling their house?” Karen asked.
    Stella turned toward the mayor’s wife and put on her more professional face for the city’s first lady. “Her old house, Mrs. Hanson. Not the one she and Sam and Abby live in. I’m selling it for her. You’re welcome to come to my open house tomorrow.”
    When she turned back to Nell and Birdie, unbridled enthusiasm once again filled her voice.
    “I’m almost ready for the open house. It’ll be so cool. It’s going to be at the cocktail hour—fancy, right? Sam said he’d go over there with me tonight to check last-minute things. Make sure all the lightbulbs work, toilets flush, that kind of thing.”
    “That is smart, Stella,” Birdie said. “I knew you’d be good at this. Izzy mentioned the open house.”
    “But wait—I haven’t told you the most amazing news. The
real
news. I already have someone who wants to buy it! Can you believe it?”
    Nell took off her sunglasses and stared at Stella. “But it hasn’t even been advertised. There’s no ‘For Sale’ sign up, is there?”
    “Nope. Not yet. I’ll put it up today. But people hear about things like that. You know how news travels in this town. Izzy has been talking about it and my mom tells people who come into the Sweet Petunia. And of course I’ve told anyone who looks at me.”
    “So how did it happen?” Birdie asked.
    “Well . . . when I got to the office today . . .” She grinned as she said the word “office,” and pointed across the street to the windows above Gus’s store, where a new sign read: PALAZOLA REAL ESTATE. “Uncle Mario said that