LITMIR.BIZ

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the Haas-Muth Gallery, just up the street from the Hatfield Gallery. The owner is an artist, but he doesn’t just display paintings. He also sells Oriental rugs, which brings a lot of traffic. Steven was thinking of doing something similar, not with rugs, but maybe with antique clocks.” Her voice turned a little somber. “He never had the chance.”

      “Who is that?” Grace asked, nodding in the direction of a twin-spiraled church.

      “Father Donnelly. He’s our pastor. He first came here as a young priest many years ago, but the church likes to move their people around and he was sent to another parish. Now he’s back.”

      She smiled at the handsome, fortysomething man watching them approach. He wore black pants and a black jacket with a white collar peeking through. “Hello, Father. Were your ears ringing? I was talking about you.”

      “I’m flattered.” He rested his gaze on Grace. “You must be Miss McKenzie.”

      She extended her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Father.”

      “Welcome to New Hope. I hope you’re recovered from that unfortunate incident last night.”

      “Completely, thank you.”

      “In that case, you might find time to attend Sunday mass?” His eyes shone with youthful mischief as he talked.

      Grace wasn’t much of a churchgoer, but how could she refuse such a gracious request? “I’ll make a point to do that,” she promised.

      “You’re incorrigible, Father,” Denise said. “Always trying to garner more parishioners.”

      “That’s my job, Denise, as well as my pleasure. Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have to make my hospital rounds. You both have a good day.”

      “There goes a good man,” Denise said as the pastor walked away. “He’s been a huge comfort to me. He never preaches, never criticizes and he never pushes you to say anything you don’t want to say. He sits with me and we just talk. He gives me the strength I need to face the day.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “This morning I asked him to look at some earrings I made and give me his opinion.”

      “Did he try them on, too?”

      Denise laughed. “No, silly, but he would have if I had asked him to. That’s how he is. And speaking of earrings, here’s my shop.”

      They had stopped in front of a store named, appropriately, Baubles. Denise unlocked the front door and Grace found herself in a bright, colorful store that was a perfect reflection of its owner. Two glass cases held an assortment of beaded necklaces, rings, bracelets and earrings of every shape and color. On the counters, yards of silver and gold chains hung on small racks, competing for space.

      Grace walked around, admiring Denise’s work. “You’re very talented,” she said as she picked up a necklace with a small citrine pear hanging from it. “And very versatile. There’s something for every taste.”

      “Thank you. I love my work. It keeps me busy, especially now that Fred is…away.”

      Grace kept moving along the cases, studying the delicate workmanship. “How did you learn to do all this?”

      “A friend of mine used to own this store. She gave me a job as a salesgirl the day I graduated from high school. I learned a lot from her over the years, not to mention that we got along like two sisters. That’s why I continued to work after I married Fred, for the love of it. Then one day, Alice announced that she was selling the store and moving to upstate New York. She was hoping I’d make her an offer, but I wasn’t about to ask Fred for that kind of money. A week later, Fred handed me the keys and told me the store was mine. I thought I would faint.”

      “Seems to me like he made a sound investment.”

      “Go ahead.” Denise came to stand behind her. “Pick something. As my welcome gift to you.”

      “That’s very kind of you, Denise, but I can’t accept.”

      “I insist.” She took the citrine necklace out of the case and held it against Grace’s neck. “This would go well with your hazel eyes. Unless you’d prefer something else. The coral bracelet maybe? I saw you looking at it.”

      It was impossible to say no to this woman once she had made up her mind. “Are you in the habit of giving away merchandise, instead of selling it?”

      “No, just you, because I like you. So?” She held the necklace in one hand and the bracelet in the other, moving them up and down. “What will it be?”

      “The necklace. And thank you very much.”

      “You’re welcome.” Denise walked back behind the case and started wrapping the necklace in white tissue. “You can wear it tonight.”

      “I’m not going anywhere special, but I’ll still wear it.”

      “You have somewhere to go now. Lucy is dying to meet you, so I thought I’d make us a nice home-cooked dinner. Do you like Italian food?”

      Grace laughed. “Are you kidding? That’s my favorite kind.”

      “Then you’re in luck, because I make the best lasagna this side of Napoli.” She fitted the narrow box with a lid and handed it to Grace with a flourish. “Seven o’clock. Our house is on Bridge Street, a couple of blocks from the gallery. You can’t miss it. It’s the blue Colonial with the American flag out on the front yard. Come hungry.”

      Nine

      Duke Ridgeway had to be close to eighty by now, but the years didn’t seem to have slowed him one bit. After Pat’s Pub, New Hope Hardware was the busiest place in town, and Duke, who had owned the store for the last forty years, ran it like a finely tuned machine. Born and raised in Bucks County, he was a respected businessman and a fair and incorruptible member of the planning board.

      “Well, if it isn’t little Matty,” he said, adopting the nickname only Matt’s father and his sister used from time to time. He made change for a customer, thanked him and closed the cash register. “How are you, my boy?”

      “Not too bad. What about you, Duke?”

      “Ah.” He made a disgusted gesture. “The old leg is starting to let me down.” He scratched his head, pretending to be puzzled. “You don’t suppose I’m getting old, do you?”

      “You? Never. Besides, age is only a piece of paper.”

      Duke laughed. “I’ll remember that. How’s your pop holding up?”

      “Pretty good, considering.”

      “You’ve got to get him out of that cage, Matty. It ain’t fair him being there.”

      “I’m trying, Duke. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me with something.”

      “I’ll do what I can, you know that, but if there was a way for me to clear your daddy, I’d have done so by now.”

      “I know that, but something came up during a conversation with my father that still puzzles me. I’d have asked Buzz, but I understand that he won’t be back until the end of the week.”

      Duke nodded. “He’s thinking of moving to the midwest.” He slid a cardboard ad for latex paint to the end of the counter. “So what brings you by, son?”

      “You remember that application for the development of Buzz’s farm?”

      “You bet I do. Kept us in session for months.”

      “Do you have any idea why Steven opposed it so much?”

      “Mostly because of the increase in taxes New Hope would have to shoulder. Now mind you, the developer presented a good case. He explained how self-sufficient that community was going to be, the economic growth for local businesses, a regulated traffic pattern and a homeowner association that would pay for many of the services the residents

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