Chapter Two
The next morning, Sam woke up early. Arlo, still bleary-eyed, lay on her feet, yawning.
“I need my feet back so I can get out of the bed,” she advised the dog.
Arlo allowed her to have them back, continuing to yawn as Sam climbed out of the bed.
An hour and a half later, Sam had exercised, walked Arlo, showered, dressed, and eaten.
This was Sam’s usual routine. The only thing Sam found consistently challenging was relaxing.
It was so hard to relax that she had to put it on her planner as a task to complete.
But she was working on getting better at it.
The phone rang right before eight o’clock. Glancing down at the screen, she saw it was Charlotte.
“Good morning,” she said. “What did you make of the meeting last night? I hope Margaret didn’t scare you away. But I think you’re made of sterner stuff.”
Sam smiled. “She didn’t. Olivia asked me the same thing. I told Olivia that having someone like Margaret around makes for interesting discussions.”
“Oh good. I was kind of wincing during the whole thing. I’m used to the professor, but I was thinking of how she sounded to a newcomer.”
Sam said, “I bet she was tough in the classroom.”
“Yeah. I’m very glad I wasn’t her student. And I love English literature! Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you were busy today. You mentioned last week that you might be able to help me out with changing up my social media for the bookstore.”
“Oh, right,” said Sam. “Yes, you wanted it to be more branded, didn’t you? I’m totally free. Do you want to meet up now, or do you have things to do at the store first thing?”
“Actually, it would work out great if you’re free now. I’ve got a truck of books coming in later today that’s going to mean some work later on. Are you sure right now is okay? I can meet you at the store. I’m getting ready to head over there in just a minute.”
Sam said, “Sure. I’ll be right there.”
She gave Arlo a quick rub. He had gone straight from her bedroom to the sofa, foregoing watching Sam exercise, eat, or getting ready. He opened a lazy eye in acknowledgment before letting it close again. A second later, he was snoring.
Twice-Told Tales was a Victorian building on Main Street, its brick facade painted a warm cream with hunter green around the tall windows.
The shop had sustained damage during a hurricane that had hit the town recently, so it sported a new roof.
A hand-painted wooden sign hung from a wrought-iron bracket above the door.
Charlotte was just unlocking the door. She smiled at Sam. “Thanks again for doing this. I’m hopeless when it comes to social media and that design app.”
“That’s not true. You’ve done a great job keeping up with an online presence.”
Charlotte said ruefully, “Yeah, but it’s not obvious it’s coming from my shop. And I don’t feel like I’m consistent in the kinds of things I post. In other words, I need a plan. And you’re the best person I know for planning things.”
“I think I take it into the realm of obsessive,” said Sam with a laugh. “Anyway, I’m happy to help out. Let’s fire up your computer and we’ll get you started on Canva. It does a fantastic job with design.”
“Okay. Let’s head into the back room. I can put my laptop on one of the tables in there so we can both look at it. Do you want some coffee? I think I’ll make a pot.”
“Sure.”
They chatted for a few minutes while Charlotte started the coffeemaker and the java perked. Then Charlotte got a couple of cups and, after doctoring their coffee with cream and sugar, they headed for the back room.
Which was where they stopped short. Margaret Brennan was slumped in a chair, cup of coffee beside her. Dead.