Read Online Ornaments of Death by Jane K. Cleland - Free Book Online

the end of the day, we both felt like winners.
    *   *   *
    At noon, I found myself sinking back into depression, gloomy thoughts about Ian stubbornly refusing to be vanquished. I reheated some roasted vegetable soup I’d prepared over the weekend, using the recipe my mother got from her good friend Linda Plastina, and the rich aroma soothed me a bit. It wasn’t enough, though, to dispel my anxiety. I wasn’t good at waiting. I needed to act.
    *   *   *
    The photographer who’d worked my holiday party had sent us all the photos he’d taken. It was Gretchen’s job to sort through them and select an appropriate mix for our archives. She also culled any beauties that might appeal to individuals; those were framed as special gifts from Prescott’s. I remembered that I’d been cc’d on an e-mail from the photographer giving Gretchen the access codes to the photo storage site.
    I found the link and password and opened the folder. I ran through the photos quickly looking for a clear full-face shot of Ian, noting that we never did get a photo of the two of us. Ian must have left before Gretchen could organize it. There weren’t many options, but in between a fun photo of me and Zoë toasting the camera with our glasses of Prescott’s Punch and a crowd scene where everyone was near the stage listening to Timothy, I found the perfect image. Ian was focused on Lia, unaware of the camera aimed his way. I copied the photo onto my desktop, cropped it to eliminate all extraneous material, including Lia, and printed two copies.
    *   *   *
    Lia’s Spa was located four doors down from Ellie’s in a prime location across from the village green. It also occupied an old manufacturer, although not a chocolate factory, and it, too, had been renovated to preserve the original character. A wall of mellowed brick meshed perfectly with the eggplant and turquoise color scheme. Old wooden cross beams accentuated the high ceilings. For the holidays, dark purple and teal plaid bows adorned the windows and walls, Pinecone- and peppermint-scented candles stood on tall wooden stands that ringed the room, their flames twinkling. More of the ribbon twirled around the stands from base to holder. A silvery pink aluminum Christmas tree stood on the reception desk next to an olive-wood menorah. Silver, seafoam green, and purple teardrop-shaped ornaments dangled from the tree’s metal branches. Seashell pink crocheted angels suspended on clear filament from the wooden beams drifted in the ambient breeze and appeared to be flying. The overall look was as unexpected and elegant as Lia.
    I pushed open the oak door just as Lia was shaking hands with a middle-aged man in jeans and a blue parka.
    â€œThanks for taking the time to come and take a look at it,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be able to swing it later in the year.”
    â€œAnytime,” the man said, and left.
    Lia smiled at me. “Look what the breeze blew in! How you doing, Josie?”
    â€œPretty good. Do you have a minute to talk?”
    â€œSure,” she said, her eyes growing wary.
    She didn’t look defensive, exactly, but there was something in her demeanor that made me feel as if I were walking on eggshells, or ought to be.
    â€œHi, Missy,” I said, smiling at the receptionist.
    I’d known Missy for as long as I’d been coming to Lia’s spa, which was the whole time I’d been living in Rocky Point. Last spring, Missy had asked my opinion about whether it was safe for her daughter to move to New York City. As if she could stop an aspiring actress who’d landed a full-ride scholarship to NYU from moving.
    â€œHow’s your daughter liking the big city?”
    She looked a little wistful. “She loves it.”
    â€œI knew she would.”
    â€œAllen and I are going down for Christmas. My first visit.”
    â€œNew York is very