Free Mother's Day Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

very involved. She’s created a text-message campaign to publicize the event, but Ashley is too busy with the tennis team and her AP courses to help.” When Bar began to bristle, she’d added, “Of course, I understand poor Ashley really has to struggle to keep her grades up.”
    It struck Lucy that the sparring was almost a reflex: they simply couldn’t stop making digs at each other. And they’d gone after her, too, when they’d realized Sara posed a threat to their daughters’ popularity. It was no wonder that the girls themselves were using similar tactics; they’d learned from masters.
    She was still thinking about the rivalry between the two women when she stopped on the way home to pick up a pizza for dinner. Pizza was a Friday night tradition, providing a quick supper before the evening’s activities. Sara was going to the movies with Sassie and Renee, Zoe was sleeping over at Sadie’s house, and Lucy and Bill were going to baby-sit so Molly and Toby could enjoy a quiet dinner together.
    Lucy was carrying the pizza into the house when Bill pulled into the driveway. She waited to greet him, watching as he walked around to the passenger side and pulled out a big bag with a discount store logo.
    “What have you got there?” she asked.
    “Toys for Patrick. For tonight.”
    “But he’s only eight weeks old.”
    “You’re never too young to start,” said Bill, pulling out a huge baseball mitt.
    Lucy shook her head, laughing. “He could fit in that mitt.”
    “He’ll love it,” said Bill, putting it back in the bag. “It’s even got a Red Sox logo.”
    But when the grandparents took over and Bill switched on the TV to watch the game, sitting in the rocking chair with the baby in his lap, just like he used to do with his own kids, he discovered Patrick was not a Red Sox fan. All Patrick wanted to do was cry.
    Bill finally gave up and handed the tiny tyke over to Lucy, who tried everything she could think of. She changed his diaper, she offered him a bottle of his mother’s milk, she offered him a bottle of water, she tried a pacifier, and she even took him for a little drive, hoping the motion of the car would soothe him. Nothing did, until he finally fell asleep around ten o’clock.
    “I’m exhausted,” she told Bill as she collapsed on the couch. “I don’t know how his poor parents do it.”
    “Me, too,” said Bill. “I could hardly hear the game with all that crying.”

Chapter Seven
    T he birds were singing, the tulips were up, and the lilacs were budding. It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in May. The sun was already warm at eight o’clock as Lucy strolled about in the garden, checking the progress of the seeds she had planted. The peas were poking through the soil, as were the lettuce, spinach, and radish seedlings. It wouldn’t be long before they would be eating homegrown salads and vegetables.
    Lucy and Molly had scheduled spa appointments at ten o’clock, so Lucy decided to put the time to good use by trying to recruit her Prudence Path neighbors to help out at the after-prom party. Frankie, whose daughter Renee was also a freshman, was sitting on her deck, with a cup of coffee. She waved to Lucy, inviting her over.
    “Isn’t this weather glorious?” she asked. She was seated on a cushioned chaise lounge, with her legs bare to the sun. “Would you like some coffee?”
    “No, thanks,” said Lucy. “Don’t get up. You look so comfortable.”
    “I don’t mind, really,” she said, popping up. “I’m actually a bit cold and could use a sweater. I’m trying to tan my legs, just a little bit.”
    “Well, if you’re going inside, anyway…”
    “Back in a mo’.”
    Lucy sat down on a rattan café chair and admired Frankie’s deck, which looked like a bit of Provence transported to Maine. Not that Lucy had actually been to Provence, but she’d seen photos of Provence-style decor in magazines. Frankie had put out plenty of terra-cotta planters filled with impatiens