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Izzy said. “This leaves Ben and Sam with the sweaty job—helping Pete haul his equipment over to the Artist’s Palate. We’ll show up when they’re all finished—and we’ll smell nice.”
    M.J. laughed. “The girls in the salon have been talking about it all week. The Fractured Fish are becoming minor celebs around here. Tiffany never misses a performance. Pete and Andy will be fighting off their groupies before they know it.” She handed them each a glass of wine.
    Nell took a drink, then set her glass down. “I noticed you at the book club last night, M.J. What did you think? Did you like the discussion?”
    The salon owner paused, then answered carefully. “It was interesting. But I think I’m in Esther Gibson’s camp. I think Danny might have picked a cold case that happened in California or Oregon or Canada—somewhere far away from Sea Harbor. Fifteen years seems a lifetime to someone your age, Iz, but to some of us, it wasn’t so long ago.”
    “But Danny’s intention wasn’t to talk about real people. He was just showing how real life can be a springboard for fiction.”
    “I suppose. And for people who didn’t live here then—like Danny, like both of you—it probably seems more remote. But having it brought up like that brings back memories to some of us, and not necessarily good ones. People start talking about it again. Like Margaret Garozzo, for example. She was in here today getting her hair done, and you’d think it happened yesterday the way she was going on—not in a gossipy way. Just reliving it. Their son was just out of high school at the time. It scared parents half to death.” She waved one hand in the air, as if scattering her words. “But enough talk about that. We have happier things to talk about.” She checked the desk clock again and frowned. “Tiffany must have been waylaid. She’s usually very prompt. I’ll check with the desk—”
    M.J. headed for the phone on her desk when a voice in the doorway stopped her.
    “She left, M.J. Gone.”
    Tanya Gordon stood in the doorframe with her hands on her hips and an “I told you so” look on her face.
    “What do you mean, ‘gone’? Maybe she’s in the basement, in her office.”
    “Yeah, you’d think. She spends a lot of time down there. But nope, not this time. I checked. Soon as her four o’clock was done, she split, like she had a plane to catch or something. Out of here. Vroom.”
    M.J. frowned. “Did she say when she’d be back?”
    Tanya’s thin shoulders lifted and fell. She ran her fingers through her hair. “You never know with her. She’s, like, secretive. Especially lately. Doesn’t tell me much. She must be PMSing or something.”
    “Well, thanks, Tanya.” M.J. turned back toward Izzy and Nell.
    Tanya took a step into the office. “Well, I could stay, if you want. I mean, I could easily handle the appointments and stuff for Izzy’s wedding.” Her red-lipped smile was directed toward Izzy, the words at M.J.
    “We’ll take care of it, Tanya. Thanks. You can go now.”
    The sound of Tanya’s heels tapping angrily on the tiled hallway floor told them she had left.
    M.J. shook her head. “She’s still upset with me because I promoted Tiffany to our special events coordinator. Then, when I started renovating that old storeroom in the cellar and turned one of the rooms into an office for Tiff, Tanya went through the roof. She thought she should have gotten the job—and the office—because she’s been here longer. The girl is short on manners but high on ambition.”
    M.J. laughed at the expression that flitted across Izzy’s face. “That look tells me you know Tanya.”
    “No, not really. She comes into the yarn shop sometimes. She’s fine, really, just a little loud and … well, gossipy, I guess you’d say. And frankly, I can’t imagine her dealing with Great-grandmother Chambers. She’ll be quite particular about how she looks that day.”
    Nell laughed at the thought of the matriarch