“Third grade. She didn’t like me since I’d scored that goal against her.” Bernie’s deep laugh came down the line. “One of the highlights of my soccer career as I remember. The only highlight of my short-lived soccer career.”

  I told Bernie about Rachel’s visit to the tearoom, what she’d told me, and that Kimberly had taken a room at my grandmother’s B & B. “So, here’s the dilemma. Rachel asked me to let her know if Kimberly came back. I’m not sure it’s entirely ethical for me to reveal the whereabouts of a B & B guest.”

  “Sounds like a no-brainer to me. That Kimberly’s a piece of work. She made you feel so endangered in your own place, you thought it prudent to call Simon to be on hand in case she tried something. She was rude and didn’t even thank you for your time and effort or for giving her what she wanted without making a fuss or overcharging her. This Rachel, on the other hand, is she a friend of yours?”

  “I wouldn’t say a friend, more an acquaintance or a colleague. We’ve gone out for drinks a couple of times, but only as part of a business group.”

  “She didn’t tell you what she’s after? What’s in the envelope?”

  “No.”

  “As much as I’d like to advise you to tell Rachel because we don’t like Kimberly, leave it, Lily. You don’t want anything to do with them or their problems.”

  “You’re right. None of our business. Good night. I’ll let you get back to Rose and Tessa. Oh, if you want to imagine what it’s like to have a falling-out with a friend . . . in tenth grade, Johnny D’Angelo kissed me behind the bleachers after football practice.”

  I hung up to a screech of “He did what!”

  Chapter 5

  “One extra for breakfast,” Edna said. “A guest has only just arrived. Something about not being able to make it last night. He’ll have the full English with fried eggs over easy. ”

  I tossed another sausage into the sizzling frying pan. At the B & B a full English breakfast is our advertised specialty: eggs, bacon or sausage, crispy fried potatoes, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, tinned baked beans, unlimited amounts of toast. A slightly lower-fat, slightly modernized version of the fried breakfast my grandmother made for my grandfather every Sunday of their married life.

  We were in full breakfast swing. As well as the full English, we offer a lighter option and always have freshly baked pastries available along with fruit, cereal, and yoghurt. I’d made muffins with local Cape Cod blueberries when I started work at six and then began prep for the hot breakfasts. Edna came in at six thirty, put together the fruit salad, and carried it out to the dining room along with boxes of cereal and containers of yoghurt. When guests began to arrive at seven, I finished the cooked breakfasts to order, and Edna served and cleaned up.

  It was five to nine now. Breakfast service finishes at nine, and I was never pleased when someone came in at the last minute expecting to be fed. I prepared the plate for the late arrival, and Edna carried it through along with a side of toast. I took my apron off, hung it on the hook by the door, poured myself a cup of coffee, and folded a warm muffin into a napkin for myself. Seeing the signs of leaving, Éclair stretched and came out from under the kitchen table, stubby tail wagging, ears up. She spends the mornings under the table, hoping I’ll drop something tasty. I never do, but her optimism could serve as an inspiration to us all.

  Edna came into the kitchen in a rush and dropped her tray on the table. “Lily, you’d better come.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “A woman’s arrived and she looks like she’s spoiling for a fight with some of our guests.”

  I had a sinking feeling as to who this woman and the guests might be. I told a disappointed Éclair to wait and hurried into the dining room. Only two tables were still occupied. A group of four in the center of the room, lingering over their coffee while they studied maps and guidebooks, and a table for two tucked into a corner by the French doors overlooking the back lawn, the bluffs, and the bay.

  As I feared, the intruder was none other than Rachel Morrison. She stood next to the table for two, gesturing wildly and yelling at her half sister. Rachel wasn’t her normal well-groomed self today, dressed in yesterday’s clothes with no makeup and her hair gathered behind her head in a messy ponytail.

  “Is something the matter here?” I asked in a calm voice.

  “This is none of your business, Lily,” Rachel said.

  “I’m afraid it is.”

  She ignored me and pointed an index finger, the polish bright red, at her sister. “I know you have it. Lily told me you found it yesterday in the tea chest. Give it to me.”

  Kimberly picked up her coffee cup and calmly took a sip. By contrast, she was nicely put together and ready for a day’s vacation in a pretty yellow sundress. “Sorry. Don’t know what you could possibly be talking about, Rachel.”

  “You can’t pull that one on me. Lily, you’re a witness, right? You saw Kimberly take the envelope out of the tea chest.”

  “I, uh . . .”

  “I must insist you take your disagreement elsewhere.” Rose tapped her way across the room, leaning more heavily on her cane than usual. Playing up the feeble old lady bit to perfection, as she could do when it suited her. Her cat, Robert the Bruce, followed her. He leapt onto an unoccupied table to get a better view of the commotion. The guests at the other table had stopped planning their day to stare, and a couple stood in the doorway, also watching.

  “I’m happy to be on my way,” Rachel said. “Once I have what’s mine.”

  “Yours?” Kimberly sneered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Don’t play gotcha games with me, big sister. You’re no good at it.”

  Rachel’s arm flew out and she knocked the coffee cup out of Kimberly’s hand. It hit the wall and shattered in a spray of hot liquid. Kimberly yelped and half rose from her seat in fright.

  The man sitting opposite Kimberly, the one with an untouched plate of my full breakfast, leapt to his feet. I’d paid him no notice: my attention had been focused on the sisters, and Rachel had been blocking my view of him.

  I noticed him now. None other than Wesley Schumann. My ex-boyfriend. He grabbed Rachel’s arm. She yelled at him to let her go and tried to pull away, but he held on. His face was tight and his eyes narrow with an anger I was well acquainted with.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, as if that was important at the moment. Rachel told me yesterday Wesley had married a woman she didn’t care for. She hadn’t mentioned the woman was her own half sister. Proof, if I needed more, that the sisters didn’t exactly get on.

  He gave me a lazy grin without letting go of Rachel. “Hi, Lily. I heard you’d moved to this town. I hoped I’d run into you.”

  Rachel snarled at him. “Let go of me or I’ll have you charged with assault.”

  “Do call the police.” Kimberly perched on the edge of her chair. “You’ll lay charges, won’t you, Lily? This”—she sniffed—“person has been asked to leave, and she’s refusing to do so.”

  “You can all leave,” I said. “Take your squabbles elsewhere.”

  “I haven’t had my breakfast yet.” Wesley gave me a wink, so totally inappropriate in the circumstances, I gaped. He was not much taller than me at five feet nine, but his slim hips, broad chest, muscular arms made him look bigger. Wesley was a good-looking man, with sculpted cheekbones, large dark eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, olive complexion, strong jaw, full lips. When it was almost too late, I’d finally noticed the way those lips could curl in a smirk and how the dark eyes turned even darker in an instant before he flew into a rage. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “I know it’ll be good, if Lily cooked it.”

  Rachel realized his attention had wandered and she pulled her arm free of Wesley’s grip. She made another lunge for her sister, her long red fingernails outstretched. “I want that envelope, and I want it now!”

  Kimberly jerked backward, trying to take herself out of Rachel’s way, and her chair toppled over. She grabbed at the table in an attempt to keep herself upright, but all she got was a fistful of the starched white tablecloth. She pulled it after her as she fell. The entire table setting hit the floor along with Kimberly and her chair. Glassware shattered, pink and red china cracked, water and coffee spilled. Salt and pepper shakers rolled across the wide-planked wooden floor, and Wesley’s full English breakfast spread across the gray and pink rug. Egg yolk and baked beans spattered on the flower-patterned pink wallpaper. The sound of Éclair’s frantic barking came from the kitchen, and Robbie arched his back and hissed. The other guests leapt to their feet and scurried for the safety of the doorway.

  “We might need assistance here,” Edna calmly said into her phone. Rose pounded her cane on the floor and yelled, “Get out of my house.”

  Rachel dove toward Kimberly, who lay flat on her back, eyes wide with shock, wrapped in a tangle of tablecloth, dishes, food, and chair.

  “Get her away from me.” Kimberly’s legs kicked in the air as she attempted to scramble backward on her rear end. “She’s finally lost what’s left of her tiny mind.”

  Wesley grabbed Rachel around the waist and almost jerked her off her feet. “That’s enough of that.”

  Rachel struggled against him, but Wesley was a strong man. He half lifted, half dragged her across the room. Rachel screamed obscenities, but I couldn’t tell if they were aimed at Kimberly or at Wesley. Probably both.

  “Edna,” I said, “see to Kimberly. Rose, stay here.” I ran after Wesley and Rachel as Simon burst out of the kitchen, Éclair hot on his heels.

  “What’s going on?” Simon yelled.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  Wesley manhandled Rachel out of the dining room. Simon followed them, and I came last, shutting the double doors behind us as Éclair scrambled after me. Additional guests stood on the stairs, and others were gathered in the hallway, attracted by the noise.

  “Do you need us to call nine-one-one?” someone asked me.

  Éclair kept barking. A woman dropped to a crouch next to her, murmuring, “There there, you sweet thing. No need to fuss.” The barking turned into small yips as the dog allowed herself to be stroked.

  Rachel’s face was pure white except for two spots of bright red on her cheeks. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows were fused together, her eyes bulged, the veins in her neck pulsed, and her lips were twisted into a snarl.

  “The police won’t be necessary, will they, Rachel?” As I stared at her, some of the rage began to melt from her face. She gave her head an almost imperceptible shake. “No, no cops.”

  “Wesley,” I said, “you can let her go now. Please.”

  Wesley ignored me and gave Rachel a shake. “Are you crazy?”

  “You were asked to let her go, mate,” Simon said.

  “Rachel?” I said.

  She grumbled something noncommittal. Wesley relaxed his grip, and Rachel pulled herself free with a huff.

  I let out a long breath. “I suggest you leave. If you have a dispute with your sister—”

  “My half sister.”

  “I truly do not care about your family relationships. You aren’t going about resolving your differences in the right way.”

  “There is no right way, not when dealing with her.” All the fight went out of Rachel in a flash. Her eyes filled with tears, and she dropped into the chair behind the reproduction antique desk with a sob. “I would have thought you had better taste in women, Wesley.”

  “I wouldn’t have told you where we’re staying if I knew you were going to go crazy,” he said.

  “You’re wasting your time with her. She’ll never get it. I’ll see to that.”

  “Like I said”—Wesley twirled his index finger in the air next to his right ear—“craaaa-zy.”

  “Why don’t you go and see if Kimberly’s okay?” I suggested.

  Wesley looked at me for a long time. Then he smiled and said, “You’re looking good, Lily. Really good. I’ve missed you.”

  Simon threw me a questioning look.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” I said. “Please go back to the dining room.”

  He didn’t move. Finally, Simon stepped forward. He stood beside me, close but not touching me. “You heard what Lily said, mate. I suggest you do it.”

  “Who are you, her bodyguard?”

  “Her gardener.”

  Wesley sneered. “In that case . . . wouldn’t want to keep you from your roses.”

  “They’ll wait,” Simon said.

  “Besides,” Wesley said, “I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”

  “Kitchen’s closed,” I said.

  He turned his attention back to Rachel. “Stay out of our way. If you know what’s good for you.” He crossed the hall in quick angry strides, threw open the door, and went into the dining room. Show over, the other guests wandered away. Éclair sniffed at Simon’s pant legs, wondering what he’d been up to in the garden.

  Rachel’s shoulders collapsed, and she put her head in her hands. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”

  “You think?” I said.

  She wiped her eyes with her hand. “What room’s she in?”

  “What?”

  “Quick. What’s Kimberly’s room number? I’ll get what I’m after and be out of your hair.”

  “I’m not telling you that.”

  “Come on, Lily. Help a girl out.”

  “That would be unethical, not to mention possibly illegal.”

  “I won’t tell anyone you told me.”

  “Lily said no,” Simon said.

  “I have no time to waste. She’ll burn it.”

  “Burn what?” Simon and I chorused.

  Before Rachel could answer, the dining room doors opened once again, and Rose and Edna came out, followed by Robbie. “They left via the French doors.” Rose turned the full force of her piercing blue eyes on Rachel as she spoke to me. “Do you know these people, Lily?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  Chapter 6

  “Thanks for coming so quickly,” I said to Simon.

  “Happy to help.”

  “You weren’t hired to work as a security guard, but it seems to be turning out that way.”

  “Other duties as assigned,” he said with a chuckle and a touch to the brim of an imaginary cap.

  The guests went back to minding their own business, and Simon and Edna returned to work. I took Rose into the drawing room, followed by Éclair and Robbie, and shut the door. I told Rose about the circumstances of first Kimberly’s and then Rachel’s visits to Tea by the Sea. I then, briefly and reluctantly, mentioned that Wesley and I had worked together for a while, glossing over the circumstances of our relationship and breakup. When I finished, I said, “They’re booked in here for three more nights. You can ask them to leave. If you don’t want to do that, I will.”

  Rose folded her hands together and rested them on her cane. She was dressed for the day in a purple T-shirt and voluminous black pants with a pattern of yellow sunflowers. Her short gray hair was combed into spikes, but she’d been interrupted before applying her makeup. “They didn’t do anything to warrant being kicked out, love. It was the other woman, the sister, who caused the trouble.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t trust Rachel to stay away.”

  “I’ll admit, that’s a concern. This envelope they’re talking about. You don’t know what’s in it?”

  “Not a clue. And I’m not interested enough to speculate.”

  * * *

  Rachel didn’t return, and the rest of the day passed uneventfully. The beautiful summer weather continued, and Tea by the Sea was satisfyingly busy all day. When I first arrived at work, I worried Wesley would come in under the pretext of wanting to see what I’d done with my own restaurant, but that didn’t happen. I put Kimberly and Rachel and their issues out of my mind and got on with my day.

  But, once again, fate intervened and the feuding sisters became my problem.

  I was curled up on the couch watching a not-very-good cooking show, sipping a cup of tea, Éclair cuddled into my side, when I became aware of an argument raging outside my cottage. Éclair’s ears pricked up, but she’s used to people wandering around the property at all times, so she didn’t bother to rouse herself from the couch to investigate. My cottage sits at the north end of the B & B property, close to the house and overlooking the bluffs. Guests regularly go for a stroll through the gardens or along the cliff edge after dinner or before turning in. All too often people bring their arguments and petty feuds with them, even on vacation. I turned the sound on the TV up and tried to ignore them, but the voices got louder as they came closer. I recognized the high-pitched whine of Kimberly Smithfield. I groaned and said to Éclair, “I wonder who she’s arguing with this time. Wesley probably. None of our business.”

  I couldn’t make out what they were saying, which was just as well, as I didn’t want to know. Nor could I tell if the second person was a man or a woman. I should say, Kimberly’s voice got louder. The other remained low and indistinct, but I could detect the bite of anger in it. I turned the sound on the TV up another notch.

  Kimberly yelled. She sounded so close, I started. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m ever going to agree to that. Don’t you dare. Let go of me. I—”

  Éclair barked and leapt off the couch. She ran to the window, shoved the drapes aside with her nose, put her paws on the window ledge, and continued barking. On the TV, a woman wept over a sunken soufflé. I cared about neither the soufflé nor Kimberly’s problems, but I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. We couldn’t have people fighting near bedroom windows and possibly disturbing other guests.

  But the voices had stopped, and all was quiet once again, except for Éclair, her barks getting increasingly frantic. She wasn’t normally a barker—another thing we can’t have on B & B property is a noisy dog. I pushed myself to my feet. Bedtime, anyway. “Shush, you. It’s nothing but a couple of guests forgetting they’re not at home. They’ve gone now.”