A Malicious Midwinter Read online

  “Sure,” he said, and hung up.

  In my living room, Beth was sitting upright, drinking coffee and looking thoroughly disgusted, while Glory hovered like a worried parent.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Beth.

  She didn’t snarl, but she sure looked like she wanted to. “I’m fine, Ellie. Just fine. I don’t know what all the hoopla is about. I just had a little nap, and this one,” she waved her coffee mug in Glory’s general direction, spilling a bit on the arm of my couch, “is acting like I’ve just recovered from a major debilitating illness.”

  “You didn’t have a nap, Beth,” I said. “You passed out from drinking too much. Before lunch. We have less than forty minutes to get you to the library, looking and sounding like a professional. You’re a mess. Do you need a shower?”

  She drew herself up, and I could feel a haughty reply forming, but I cut her short. “No use denying anything, Beth. Your hair needs a major re-do, and so does your make-up. Thank God your clothes aren’t wrinkled and you don’t smell like vodka.”

  She met my gaze and almost fought back, but then dropped her eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “I know where it is,” Glory said. “Come on, follow me.”

  Beth rose, put her hand on the back of the couch to steady herself, and followed Glory upstairs.

  I gave her credit. In twenty minutes she was back downstairs, looking impeccable. She glanced around the living room with interest, like she’d walked in for the first time only seconds before.

  “How lovely, Ellie. Just what I pictured. And you even have the perfect dog. How nice. Now, I understand from Glory that the snow is going to start up again, but since it’s stopped for now, why don’t we drive over to the library a bit early?”

  “Good idea,” I said. “But we can walk. It’s literally right around the corner.”

  She glanced down at her boots—high-heeled, leather, and probably costing as much as my first car.

  “I can give you another pair to walk in,” I offered. “Then, you can put the glam back on when we get there.”

  She smiled gratefully. “Lovely.” She looked at Glory. “Now, where did you put my coat?”

  Chapter 2

  The Mt. Abrams Library may not be much to look at, but it’s pretty much the cultural center of the community. Thanks to a large, high-ceilinged and warm basement, everything from lectures to plays to screenings of racy foreign movies have been hosted there. My good friend, Carol Anderson, is the head librarian there, and she’s a master at organization. So when we walked in early, she didn’t raise an eyebrow.

  “Hello. Ms. Riley, I’m so glad to meet you!” She shook Beth’s hand, and looked at Glory, expecting an introduction. None was forthcoming, so she sailed bravely on. “We’re still setting up downstairs, and the food has only now arrived, but why don’t you go down and take a look?”

  Downstairs there was a raised platform with a long, narrow table set up, and round tables scattered around the rest of the space. The tablecloths were white and pressed, with a festive centerpiece sat on each of the eight tables, a white candle surrounded by greens, compliments of the Mt. Abrams Garden Club. The buffet tables were set up along the back, heaped platters of sandwiches and bowls of salads, and a vat of soup that smelt of butternut squash and spice.

  Beth sniffed. “Oh.”

  Glory trotted over to the head table and put down her tote bag, Beth’s tote, and shrugged off her coat. “This looks really nice, Ellie,” she said. She looked at the name cards on the table. “So, I’m guessing Mary Rose Reed is some sort of hot-shot?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, helping Beth out of her fur coat. “She’s the reigning queen bee around here.”

  Beth grabbed the nearest chair and stuck out her foot. I’d found a pair of Cait’s old rain boots for her to wear. From the look on her face when she put them on, you would have thought I’d given the woman cement overshoes.

  Glory hurried over, chichi boots in hand, and pulled off Cait’s castoffs. Beth sighed and visibly brightened once the correct footwear was back in place.

  “This is not too bad, actually,” Beth said, back on her feet. She bent over one of the sandwich platters. “That corned beef looks very good. And beet salad with goat cheese? How nice.”

  Two young girls in black appeared from the door I knew led to the back outside entrance, pushing a cart laden with dishware.

  “It just started snowing again,” one of them said. “I’m glad we got everything inside in time.”

  Beth, having circled the basement twice and obviously finding nothing of interest, went back upstairs, where she spent the next fifteen minutes prowling the stacks of the Mt. Abrams Library, muttering under her breath. Glory opened her laptop, asked for the Wi-Fi password and bent over her keyboard. I chatted with Carol and waited for the crowd to arrive.

  At three minutes to one, the crowd came through the door. All seventeen of them, as though they’d waited right outside until there was a sizable crowd before opening the door. And as they streamed in, bringing with them the cold air and swirls of snowflakes, Glory lifted her eyes from her laptop to stare.

  Beth peeked from around the corner of a bookshelf, eyebrows raised, and for good reason. The Mt. Abrams elite was impressive in any state, but especially en masse. They were also fairly geriatric. Lots of retirees belonged to the Historical Society and the Garden Club and were active members of the library. Young moms at home with kids would not attend this kind of function.

  Mary Rose led the charge, of course, swathed in a long knit scarf that she unraveled with precision, shaking off snow with every turn. Lynn Fahey, her rival and archenemy in all things relating to power and prestige in Mt. Abrams, was right behind, scarf-less, but with her parka hood pulled up around her face.

  I watched Beth, her face lively and curious. I could almost feel her mood lifting.

  There were two types of authors, I’d found. The introverts, who could talk for hours, one-on-one, on anything connected with their books, but became frozen with fear in front of a crowd. Then, there were the writers who just loved people, who would talk endlessly to anyone about their books, politics, the weather…and in front of a room full of half-interested people, they could put on quite a show. Beth, I thought, was a performer. She was going to be amazing today, despite the rocky start.

  And really, that was all that mattered. As soon as she dazzled the crowd and clinched my position as Most Valuable Resident of the Week, she could go back to wherever and get as drunk as she liked.

  A bit harsh, I know, but I wanted nothing more to do with Beth and her issues. The sooner she got the heck out of Dodge, the better

  * * *

  “We’re so grateful,” Mary Rose said, “to have with us today New York Times bestselling author B. G. Riley. Now, I’m sure that somewhere, there’s a person who doesn’t watch the television series The Eleventh, but I can’t imagine anyone in this room who doesn’t love it just as much as I do. And I believe there’s a new book…” She leaned over and raised an eyebrow at Beth, who nodded modestly. “Yes, a new book in the Elmwood series, coming out soon. So please, a round of applause for B.G.Riley!”

  The food had been cleared, and the back of the room had been filled with rows of chairs, extra seating for those who came to hear Beth but who had not been invited to the members only luncheon. I was pleased to see more people come in late. I’d been to author events before, and although Beth was fairly popular, I knew that the main crowd here had come for the food.

  Beth stood up, hugged Mary Rose, and stepped before the microphone. “Thank you, lovely people. It’s always a thrill for me to speak to readers.” She had notes. She slipped on rhinestone-studded reading glasses and scanned the crowd “Let me tell you first about how, exactly, I developed the Elmwood series.

  She was good. Very good. I enjoyed those kinds of talks. I was always interested in the process of writing, and it was so different for every author. Everyone in the room was polite and atte
ntive, and they laughed in all the right places. When she was done, the applause was enthusiastic and sincere. She clasped her hands across her chest and smiled.

  “Thank you all,” she said, beaming. “Now I think we have time for a few questions, if anyone has any?”

  Hands raised, and of course, the usual questions came up.

  “Where do you get your ideas?”

  “I watch Murder She Wrote reruns”

  “Have you always wanted to be a writer?”

  “Yes, except for when I wanted to be a princess.”

  “What happens when you get writer’s block?”

  “I take a tropical vacation.”

  The usual kinds of questions that readers, not writers ask. Simple, straightforward. Until—

  “You mentioned voice’” It was a tall, burly young man, bearded, someone I had never seen before. Glory, who’d had her nose buried in her laptop all afternoon, suddenly lifted her head. I watched her. She knew the young man, obviously, and did not appear happy to see him.

  Beth, obviously, knew him too. Her mouth became a thin, disapproving line.

  “Yes, I did. It’s the most important thing an author can have—a strong, identifiable voice.”

  “It seems to me the Elmwood series is in a very different voice from your other books. How do you explain that?”

  Beth sniffed. “Well, Captain Teo is a very different character than any I’ve written before.”

  “No, not really,” the young man countered. “Teo is a forty-something police detective. That’s the same character you always write.”

  “But Teo is living in the future, in a very different time and place, and genderless. That makes the point of view unique.” She rushed through her answer, then turned quickly to Mary Rose. “I believe we’re done?”

  Mary Rose was torn, I could tell. No, obviously, we weren’t done, but Beth wanted out, and Mary Rose was not about to upset the star.

  Mary Rose stood gracefully. “How about a thank you?’’ she said, clapping loudly. The crowd stood up, applauding, while Beth and Mary Rose hugged again, and Beth shook hands with the half-dozen lucky folk chosen to share the head table. Finally, she looked at me.

  “Where’s Glory?” she hissed.

  I looked around. Glory had fled the head table as soon as Mary Rose began to clap. She was with the tall young man, and they were arguing, her face flushed and furious, his calm and detached.

  “There,” I said, nodding in their general direction.

  Beth’s jaw tightened. “Can we get out of here?” she muttered.

  “Tea and cookies, remember?” I whispered back. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and shrugged. “Where’s the ladies room?”

  “Upstairs,” I said. I watched her grab her purse and head for the stairs.

  Interesting.

  Mary Rose took my hand. “Thank you, Ellie. She was wonderful. We really appreciate your efforts.”

  “No problem, Mary Rose,” I said. I always wondered if when she said we, she thought of it as the royal We.

  The crowd was making its way over to the tables that had held our luncheon buffet. Now it was covered with homemade cookies and pre-sliced cakes, all donated, of course, to the cause. The two young girls in black were standing watch, looking worried.

  I went up to one of them. “You look like there’s a problem.”

  She glanced around, then leaned in. “Have you taken a look outside?”

  Of course I hadn’t, so I went over to the outside entrance and opened the door.

  The snow was so thick I could barely see the van from the catering company, parked about ten feet from where I was standing.

  The girl was behind me. “I hate to think about driving in this.”

  I shut the door and started looking for Mary Rose. Once I found her, I dragged her with me, protesting, and opened the door again.

  Mary Rose sighed. “Oh, dear. This certainly puts a damper on things.”

  Gee, Mary Rose, ya think?

  By the time Beth came downstairs, the room was empty and the two girls in black had packed up what was left of their stuff and gone. It wasn’t like it took very long, barely ten minutes, but I was wondering why Beth needed to spend all that time in the bathroom.

  When I got a whiff of her breath, I knew. “Really? Honest to God, you couldn’t wait? You were supposed to be here for another hour, mingling, and you’re drunk?”

  “I’m not drunk. I just needed a little something-something. Where did everybody go?”

  “Home. There’s a first-class blizzard outside. I need to get you to the train station now.”

  I went upstairs, Beth behind me. Glory was leaning against the front desk, staring into her phone, a very unhappy look on her face.

  “Uh, Ellie? The trains aren’t running,” she said, in a very small voice.

  I stopped cold. “Not running? Are you kidding me?”

  She shook her head. “I wish I were. The Port Authority called it ten minutes ago.”

  Beth frowned. “Well, what does that mean?”

  “It means we can’t get back to New York,” Glory said.

  I put my elbows on the library front desk and put my forehead against my palms. Carol, discreetly hanging back in her tiny office, came forward, dressed in her coat and hat.

  “I’ll be closing the library,” she said. “But you two are welcome to camp out here.”

  Beth’s head whipped around. “What? Camp out here? Where would we sleep? What would we eat? Are you crazy? We’ll just get a hotel room.”

  “Where?” I lifted my head. “The nearest hotel is over by Route 46, a fifteen minute drive from here. How are you going to get there?”

  Beth shrugged. “I’ll just call a cab.”

  Glory cleared her throat. “Thanks for the offer,” she said to Carol. “We—”

  “We nothing!” Beth shrieked. “I won’t stay here. I can’t. What if the power goes out? We’ll die of exposure. Or starvation.”

  “There’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge downstairs. From the luncheon,” Carol said. “I could bring over some blankets.”

  “No,” I said, pushing off the desk. “You two will stay with me. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I have food and beds and a generator.” I looked at Beth. “Take off those stupid boots and let’s go.”

  My phone, which had been on silent, vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from Sam. He was coming home. He had found an open restaurant. What did I want?

  I texted him back. One of everything. We have houseguests.

  Oh. Need anything else?

  Vodka if there’s a liquor store nearby.

  Got it.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  I’d thought that the Weather Channel was a bit hysterical when they bantered around the phrase storm of the century. After all, the current century wasn’t all that old. But after fighting my way home, I conceded they were right.

  We stamped our feet and left the snow on the porch, then went inside. Boot came flying at us, and I grabbed her leash to take her out. I was already frozen, and mentally, it was easier to go back out now than wait until I was all warmed up again.

  Luckily, Boot wasn’t crazy about the snow either, and we were back on the porch in less than five minutes. The wind had really picked up, and besides blowing the snow almost horizontal, it was loud. So loud, I didn’t hear the shouting until I opened my front door and went inside.

  “I told you not to see him again,” Beth was screaming. And by screaming, I mean with the accompanying bulging eyes, red face and knotted veins in the neck.

  “You can’t tell me who I can be friends with,” Glory answered, finally showing some backbone. She was almost nose to nose with Beth.

  “He’s going to ruin everything,” Beth ranted on. “Is that what you want?”

  “I want to be treated fairly, that’s what I want. When is that going to happen?” Glory suddenly shifted her gaze and saw me. She shrank ba
ck, away from Beth and into the corner of the room.

  Beth whirled, but she was too worked up to snap on her poised, calm mask. “Got an earful, did you?”

  “Ah…” I unhooked Boot from her leash and slipped off my coat. “Sorry to interrupt, but, you know, this is my house.”

  Beth inhaled deeply and, in a swallow, became Beth the Beneficent. “Of course, Ellie. Glory and I should have better manners. After all, we’re your house guests.”

  Right. “Why don’t I show you upstairs? Both my daughters are away, so you won’t have to share a room.”

  They both looked relieved.

  I would have put Beth in the smaller of the rooms, just because I was feeling much more resentful toward her, but Glory pushed her way in and sat on the bed. “Perfect,” she said. “I think I’ll nap.”

  Hint taken. I ushered Beth farther down the hall, and by the time I turned back around, the door to Tessa’s room was closed.

  Beth was trying to take off her clunky boots while undoing her scarf. She was wobbling on one foot and finally sat on the bed and stuck her foot out at me.

  “Could you please?”

  What was I supposed to say? No? You spoiled little brat? I just smiled and tugged one boot off, then another, then turned around and walked out of the room, down the hall, and down the stairs.

  What on earth was I going to do with these two for the rest of the day? Not to mention the night? And maybe even tomorrow?

  I turned on the television. Yep, they were still talking about the weather. Yep, it was still predicted as a massive front that was going to dump snow measuring in the feet, not inches, and it looked like the entire East Coast was shutting down. No planes, no trains. No bus service. Schools that had closed today were already closed tomorrow. Power outages had already been reported, and the usual run on milk and bread, not to mention snow shovels.

  Dear Lord, they could be here for a week.

  I went into the kitchen and took inventory. Freezer packed, fridge looking fairly well stocked, and, as Sam had pointed out, enough canned stuff and dry pasta to see a family of ten through the Great Depression.