Read Sprinkle with Murder for Free Online Page B

wants?” Angie asked.
“Not a clue,” Mel answered. She was afraid Christie was calling to complain about the cupcakes, but she didn’t want to go there.
“Let’s find out.” Angie threw the blanket aside and stood up.
“But that’s eavesdropping,” Mel said as she followed Angie out of the room.
They scuttled down the hall in their socks, following the sound of Tate’s voice. His home was done in rich earth tones that complemented the toffee-colored tile that ran throughout. Angie led the way, past the guest rooms and the large home office, to the master suite. The French doors were open, and Tate was standing on the balcony on the far side of the immense room. The brilliant lights of the Valley of the Sun rolled out before him like a carpet of stars.
Mel seldom thought of how wealthy Tate really was, but every now and then it crept up and slapped her in the face, and she marveled that the three of them had been friends for all these years despite their divergent backgrounds.
He shifted his feet, and Angie grabbed Mel’s arm and yanked her to the floor behind the king-sized bed in the center of the room.
They crept under the bed—no dust bunnies there—and out the other side, where they hugged the wall until they were close enough to hear his side of the conversation.
“Yes, I know,” he said. There was a lengthy pause. “I know you wanted me there tonight, but it’s movie night.”
There was another lengthy pause, and Mel was pretty sure she could hear the sound of a high-pitched nag on the other end of the line.
“Christie, they’ve been my best friends since I was a kid,” he began, and was obviously interrupted. “Why is that weird?” Pause. “So what if they’re women? They’re my friends.”
Mel and Angie exchanged a look. Tate had dated girls before who hadn’t liked that his two best pals were women. He had a group of guy friends he played golf and hoops with, but when he wanted to relax, he kicked around with the two of them.
Mel supposed it was because, just like when they were kids, Tate could be himself with them. His father, a scarily stern man, had kept Tate on a pretty tight leash, grooming him to take over Harper Investments. It was Tate’s mother who had encouraged his friendship with Mel and Angie, as if she knew that Tate needed them to keep him from turning into a replica of his cold, withdrawn father.
“Christie, don’t ask me to choose between you and my friends, because you won’t like how it turns out.” Tate’s voice was harsh, and Angie looked at Mel with raised eyebrows. Tate seldom lost his cool.
The wail that Christie let out was loud enough for Mel to hear from several feet away. Tate winced and held his phone away from his ear.
“I’m sorry, Christie,” he said, sounding sincere. “I didn’t mean that. That was terrible of me to say.”
He paused, and Mel could hear a series of high-pitched shrieks coming out of his phone.
“No, of course, I won’t call off the wedding,” he said. “Yes, I know I proposed, and I meant it. You are the most important person in my life. You’re my best friend.”
Angie made a guttural gagging sound. Tate turned at the noise, and both women ducked behind a wing chair, hoping he didn’t catch them. Mel peeked around the back of the chair. Tate was facing the view and speaking in a low tone, obviously still trying to soothe the bride-to-be.
Mel pushed Angie back under the high bed, and they scrambled to the door and down the hall. Angie pushed open the bathroom door and yanked Mel inside with her.
She shut and locked the door, and turned the water on, before she turned to Mel with a scowl.
Mel sat on the vanity seat while Angie paced back and forth in front of the long counter with double sinks. “We’re supposed to be his best friends.”
“I know, but things change,” Mel said.
“She’s muscling him into this marriage. He can’t be in love with her.”
“He’s marrying her. He must care about her on some level.”
Mel reached over and shut off the tap. She doubted Tate