Chapter Seventeen #2
Aggie grinned. “At least three people called to report on your behavior.”
Cora rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “The gossip mill in Sunrise is as efficient as ever.”
“So, what’s the deal?” Bea asked, far too casually. “You make a nice couple.”
“We were painting. Not planning a wedding,” Cora said. “And I thought you didn’t trust him.”
The three of them exchanged guilty glances before Aggie sighed. “Okay, maybe we were a little hard on him at first. But after seeing how much he’s helping you—”
“Let’s just say he’s growing on us,” Winston cut in, reaching for a cinnamon roll.
Cora blinked, caught off guard by their sudden change of heart. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Aggie, Bea, and Winston?”
Bea waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, hush. We’re allowed to change our minds. Besides,” she added with a wink, “he is rather easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”
“Bea!” Cora spluttered.
“What?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I may be old, but I’m not blind. That boy is a tall drink of water and, honey, you look mighty thirsty.”
“Nope. We are not going there,” Cora warned, holding up a hand. “We’re supposed to be talking about saving the café, not resurrecting my love life.”
“Of course,” Aggie said, patting her hand. “Though I don’t see why we can’t multitask.”
“Just so you know,” Bea said, pulling out her notebook, “I’ve got a list of eligible bachelors lined up if things don’t work out with Jack.
” She flipped to a page that seemed to have the names of at least twenty men.
“There’s the new dentist in town. He has a great smile, obviously.
Oh, and there’s the guy who opened the new bookstore last year.
He’s quiet, but I bet he’d read you poetry in bed. ”
“My nephew is single,” Winston chimed in. “He’s a computer whiz. I’m sure he could upgrade your software.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Cora stared at him, horrified. “Winston, I’m begging you. Never say that again.”
“What?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. “I thought that’s how you young people talked these days.”
“Trust me,” a new voice said from the doorway, “it’s not.”
Cora looked up to see Jack leaning against the doorframe with an amused smirk. The way he stood there, so at ease, you’d think he owned the place. How long had he been standing there?
“Jack!” Bea exclaimed, her voice a little too enthusiastic. “We were just talking about you.”
“I can imagine,” he said, his eyes locking onto Cora’s with a knowing glint that made her heart race.
“We were telling Cora here how much we appreciate you,” Aggie said, her voice all sweetness.
Cora mumbled something unintelligible, suddenly fascinated by a loose thread on her jeans.
That dimple appeared in Jack’s cheek. “Well, as fun as this is, I think we have more pressing matters. Like how we’re going to deal with the Worthingtons.”
Winston perked up. “Funny you should mention that,” he said, reaching for his briefcase. After rummaging around, he pulled out an elegant cream-colored envelope with a flourish.
“What’s that?” Bea asked, leaning forward.
“An invitation to the Worthingtons’ annual garden party,” Winston replied. “This weekend.”
The room fell silent as they all stared at the envelope.
“How did you get that?” Cora asked, incredulous.
Winston shrugged. “Being the editor of the town paper has its perks. The question is, what are we going to do with it?”
“We’re going to use it, that’s what,” Aggie said. “You know good and well that family’s behind half the backdoor deals in this town. If Nathaniel’s got something cooking that involves The Spoon, we’re not going to hear about it from a press release.”
Cora looked at him, then the invitation. “You can’t be serious. We can’t just walk into the Worthington estate!”
“Why not?” Aggie asked, practically bouncing in her seat. “It’ll be like in the movies. We’ll dress up, drink some expensive champagne, and blend in with the ritzy people. It’ll be fun!”
“Fun?” Cora repeated. “It will be a disaster. We don’t know the first thing about infiltrating high society.”
“Speak for yourself,” Winston sniffed. “I once crashed a party at a senator’s house. Taught his wife how to make the perfect martini. It’s too bad she drank too many of them and got arrested for public indecency. The senator’s approval rating dropped five points overnight.”
Cora looked around at their eager faces and sighed. “You’re all insane.”
“Thank you for noticing,” Aggie replied sweetly.
Jack chuckled and sat on the arm of the couch next to Cora. The way he casually invaded her personal space did not go unnoticed by Aggie, who flashed a knowing smirk.
Bea, on the other hand, was completely focused on the invitation. She held the card stock up to her nose. “I think I can duplicate this.”
“Oh? You’re a counterfeiter now?” Aggie asked.
Bea blushed, but she didn’t back down. “Well, my kids decided I needed a hobby, so my grandson’s been teaching me graphic design. You know, on the computer. It’s not that hard.”
Cora turned toward Bea. “What’s next? Are you going to forge a Rembrandt for us? Whip up some fake hundred-dollar bills?”
“I’ve always said we could use a little more crime around here,” Jack chimed in with a grin. “Start with party invitations, and before you know it, you’ll have the feds knocking on your door.”
Bea waved them off, smiling as she tucked the invitation back into its envelope. “Oh, please. I’d only use my powers for good. No crime spree. Yet.”
“If you ever need a getaway driver, you know who to call,” Jack said.
Aggie turned to Cora. “Well? Are you going to join us at the party or will you miss all the fun?”
Cora sighed, knowing full well she was outnumbered. The gleam in Jack’s eyes and the eager anticipation on everyone’s faces told her there was no backing out now.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“That’s the spirit!” Aggie exclaimed. “You’ll need some breaking-and-entering clothes. How do you feel about sequins?”
It turned out that Aggie’s idea of breaking-and-entering clothes didn’t include sequins, but it did involve floral sundresses so bright they probably showed up on satellite images.
Forget stealth mode. They looked like a walking bouquet, broadcasting their presence to the entire neighborhood.
Cora was pretty sure even the birds were gossiping about their wardrobe choices.
After spending the rest of the week tackling grueling house projects, including repainting the walls and regrouting the café’s bathrooms, Cora’s hands were covered in scratches, and her nails were shredded beyond recognition. But at least Lolly’s old church dress covered her from neck to knee.
The Worthington estate loomed before them, a monument to old money and even older grudges. Manicured lawns stretched in every direction, dotted with topiary animals that looked like they’d wandered out of a Dr. Seuss book after one too many martinis.
Cora tugged at the hem of the dress. “Remind me again why we thought this was a good idea?”
Jack, looking annoyingly handsome in a borrowed blazer that fit him as if it was custom made, leaned in close. “Because Aggie’s persuasive when she wants to be. Plus, I hear there’s an open bar.”
It was hard to argue with that logic, especially when his breath against her ear was short-circuiting her ability to form a coherent thought. Who needed a clear head when there was free booze and Jack standing that close?
Winston adjusted his bowtie like the serious newspaper editor he was. “Now remember, you’re all my staff. Cora, you’re my ace reporter. Jack, you’re the photographer. Aggie and Bea, you’re . . . well, you’re Aggie and Bea.”
“Social columnists,” Aggie said with a wink. “We know where all the bodies are buried. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
Cora decided not to follow up on that. Some rocks were better left unturned, especially when they might be covering Cousin Ethel, who had mysteriously vanished after criticizing Aggie’s blackberry cobbler at a family reunion in 1985.
As they approached the gate, a thought struck her. “Wait. How are we not going to be recognized? This isn’t New York. People will know we don’t work for the paper.”
Bea patted her arm. “Oh, honey. The Worthingtons and their snooty friends don’t pay attention to the little people. We could waltz in claiming to be the Queen of England and her corgis, and they’d believe it, as long as we’re holding the right drinks.”
Aggie added, “No one suspects a little old lady. I could get away with murder.”
Cora made a mental note to never underestimate Aggie. Or play poker with her. Or turn her back when sharp objects were within reach.
“What happens if Nathaniel sees us?” Cora asked. “He knows exactly who I am. And Jack. And the three of you.”
Winston waved a hand. “He won’t. Last year he parked himself next to the bar and held court all night. He won’t notice a thing unless someone interrupts his monologues about real estate or bourbon.”
Aggie leaned closer. “All we have to do is smile politely and act like we belong. Besides, Nathaniel Worthington doesn’t see people. He scans them for net worth and golf club memberships. Since we have neither, we’ll be invisible.”
“Comforting,” Cora muttered.
As they neared the gate, clutching invitations that had been perfectly forged by Bea and her grandson, Cora felt a flicker of nerves. But the guard barely glanced at them before waving them through like VIPs. She silently added Bea to her growing list of people to keep an eye on.
Inside the garden party, crystal clinked, polite laughter floated through the air, and a string quartet played something that was decidedly not rock, much to her disappointment.
The air smelled like roses, expensive cologne, and a hefty dose of entitlement.
Money had a scent, and the Worthingtons were practically marinating in it.