Dead Man's Bones by Susan Wittig Albert Read Free Book Online Page B

anti-inflammatory drugs.

    At the shops, Tuesday got off to a slow start, which gave me time to put out some Halloween decorations. I piled a half-dozen pumpkins beside the front door, making a mental note to ask Brian to carve them into jack-o’-lanterns, hung a few spiderwebs, and put up some autumn wreaths. Before long, it would be time to start thinking about Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. I don’t know what it is about the autumn months, but they seem to fly past faster than I can chase them.
    Business picked up later in the morning, since we were hosting a lunch for the Friends of the Library. Thirty people showed up to feast on green pea soup with mint (served cold, always delightful), wild rice chicken salad with avocado, focaccia with herb butter, and lavender tea cakes. After their gourmet lunch—without a doubt, the very best that can be had in Pecan Springs—the guests wandered through the shops and the gardens, so we had a better-than-usual afternoon at the cash registers. Not only that, but Ruby handed out Party Thyme cards and snared two more catering jobs. Things were looking up.
    Tuesday evening was free for me, since McQuaid and Brian were going to a Dad’s Night event at school. Thinking about what Blackie had told me and feeling regretful, I called Sheila to see if we could get together for dinner, but she didn’t return my call. Ruby had to leave early to meet Cassandra Wilde, the volunteer costume director for A Man for All Reasons , so I closed up both shops at the usual hour, then drove over to the theater to add a few last-minute plants to the landscaping: more rosemary, some lemon-grass, and several santolina, and another dozen chrysanthemums. In my opinion, it is theoretically possible to have too many chrysanthemums, but I have personally never reached that point. When they’re in bloom, they’re bronze and red and gold and pretty; when they’re not, they’re green and pretty. Such a deal.
    The evening was warm and clear, the sun dropping into the western sky, the wind a dry whisper in the trees. It was nearly six-thirty, and I was watering the new plantings when Ruby, a bundle of costumes over her arm, came out of the theater with Cassandra. A Man for All Reasons was set in Pecan Springs during four distinct eras: the First World War, the Roaring Twenties, the Depressed Thirties, and the Post-War Forties. The period costumes were a challenge, obviously, but from what I had already seen, Cassandra and her crew of costumers—the Wilde Elves, they call themselves—had been equal to it.
    I turned off the hose. “Hey, how’s it going, guys?”
    Cassandra grinned. “It’d be a whole lot easier if Ruby would just put a lid on her bright ideas.”
    “But I’m playing Mrs. Obermann,” Ruby said, with a playful pout. “I’m the leading lady. My ideas ought to count for something.”
    “Oh, they do, they do,” Cassandra replied, rolling her eyes. Cass is in her mid-thirties, maybe five-feet-three-inches tall, round and bountifully shaped, with curly blonde hair, creamy skin, and a cheerful, oversized smile. Ruby’s friend and sometime astrology student, she’s a regular at the shops and the tearoom. “I just absolutely adore the way you redesigned the costume for the second part of Act One,” she added dryly. “And only a week before opening night. Good planning, Ruby.”
    “But I did all the sewing, Cass,” Ruby protested.
    “And I was happy to let you,” Cassandra replied. “I like your new look, really, I do—it’s very Twenties, and that slinky fabric and fringe looks wonderful on you.” She threw up her hands. “I just don’t know how Miss Jane’s going to feel about it, that’s all. She had already approved the first designs, and you know how hard it is to please her.”
    “I doubt that she’ll notice,” Ruby said. She grinned, adding cryptically, “And if Miss Jane wants to find fault with the production, she’ll have plenty to hold her