Sentenced to Death by Lorna Barrett Page A

during some stupid argument about a boy, her mother had blurted out, “We never expected to have another child.” From that day forward, Tricia had viewed all slights and reprimands with a different perspective. Was it a surprise she’d clung to her loving, all-forgiving grandmother rather than her parents?
    “Penny for your thoughts,” Angelica said.
    “I don’t think you find them worth it,” Tricia muttered, and got up from the stool. “I need to get back to my store. I have a ton of work to do before my date tonight.”
    “Oooh! Who’s the lucky man?”
    “Captain Baker is taking me to dinner.”
    “It’s about time,” Angelica said.
    “He said he has something to tell me.”
    Angelica frowned. “Good or bad?”
    Tricia shrugged. “He asked me to wear my peach dress.”
    “That sounds promising. Of course, this is you we’re talking about. Call me if the whole thing’s a fiasco and we’ll commiserate.”
    Not on your life , Tricia refrained from saying aloud.
    “But don’t stay out too late, either,” Angelica warned as Tricia headed for the door to the stairs. “We’ve got Deborah’s funeral in the morning. Do you want to drive, or shall I?”
    “I’ll do it. Elizabeth said to be at the funeral home by nine. Why don’t you meet me at my shop at eight forty-five and we’ll go on from there.”
    “Got it,” Angelica said.
    As Tricia reached for the door handle, Angelica touched her shoulder. Tricia hesitated.
    “I know you’re unhappy to lose Ginny, but you did a wonderful job training her, and now she’ll go on to have a successful career. You would’ve made a great teacher, Trish. You’re so patient and kind and giving. I really think you missed your calling. And I wouldn’t be where I am today, as a businesswoman, if I hadn’t learned from your example. I know it didn’t sound like it earlier, but I’m so proud of you, little sister.” She threw her arms around Tricia, who didn’t know what to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Angelica and allowed herself a smile.

SEVEN

    It had been several weeks since Tricia had even driven by the Brookview Inn, and the changes since Nigela Racita Associates had taken over were readily apparent—and decidedly for the better. Captain Baker parked his car in the nearly full lot out back, then got out to open the door for Tricia. It had been a long time since a man had done that for her. Christopher, her ex-husband, as a matter of fact. She couldn’t remember Russ ever opening the door of his pickup for her.
    They walked around the inn to the front entrance. Back in June, there’d been no flowers bordering the walkway. The building had also needed a fresh coat of paint, which it had received in the not-too-distant past. Now several shades of pink begonias flanked the concrete. Colorful geraniums in shades of pink filled the window boxes on the front porch, and the dozen or so quant rockers also sported fresh paint. Baker held the door for her, and they entered the inn’s lobby. New carpeting had replaced the shabby rug that had been there back in June, and the walls sparkled with more fresh paint and bright sconces.
    “Wow,” Baker said, taking in all the changes.
    “Wow is right,” Tricia agreed.
    A muffled ring tone sounded, and Baker reached for the leather holder attached to his belt. He retrieved his cell phone, glanced at the number, and frowned. “I’m sorry, Tricia, but I’d better take this. I’ll be right back.”
    “I’ll be here,” she said, resigned to a long wait, and watched him retreat to the porch. Then she turned back to the lobby and studied it more closely. Even the artwork had been spruced up. Had the original oil paintings been cleaned? That took money. Nigela Racita Associates had done a wonderful job of restoring and refurbishing, without putting too bold a stamp on the place. It pleased her, and that was about as effusive as she was likely to get about the company that seemed poised to take over