Dear Abby Cozy Mystery Collection 2 Read online

  Abby tried to connect the dots. Faith looked both flustered and excited. Had something happened?

  Faith’s neat eyebrows curved. “The new dress you’re supposed to get. Remember?”

  “Clearly not. Remind me again and, where have you been? I called several times and left messages on your cell phone.”

  Faith set her shopping bag down on her desk. “You must be the only person in town not thinking about or talking about what you’re going to wear to the Venetian Ball.”

  Abby pressed her lips together and looked away.

  The Venetian Ball.

  The one she hadn’t been invited to…

  Everyone in town had been raving nonstop about the upcoming event for a month now.

  “Has the mail come in?” Abby asked.

  “Yes, I put it on your desk the same way I do every morning.”

  Abby riffled through the stack of mail.

  Nothing.

  It would be hard to miss. A month before, Faith had burst into the Gazette yelping and waving the envelope like a regular Charlie from the chocolate factory celebrating his golden ticket find. The envelope had been quite large, with a gilded edge and addressed in an elegant script. Faith’s celebration had lasted several minutes and then she’d made quite an event of opening the envelope and drawing out the card.

  After subjecting her hands to Faith’s scrutiny, Abby had been allowed to hold it, but only if she promised to only touch the card by the edges. Printed on thick velum paper, the invitation from Charles Granger had included an R.S.V.P. which had already come and gone.

  Why hadn’t she received an invitation?

  Abby hadn’t seen Charles Granger around town, otherwise she might have dropped a hint. She knew the owner of Willoughby Park, a local deer farm. They had met several months back. In fact, he’d offered to drive her to the picnic held at the lake not long ago, and he’d been a gracious driver and host, providing a magnificent luncheon.

  This was nothing but an oversight, Abby thought. Or… the invitation might have gone astray.

  Had it been delivered to the wrong address? No, impossible, she thought. The recipient would have re-directed it. Surely. Unless, the person who’d received it by mistake had decided to hold onto it out of spite because they hadn’t received an invitation either.

  As the only reporter in town, she should have been invited. Abby wondered if she should be sensible and call Charles Granger. The eccentric landowner lived on a large estate a few miles outside of town. Abby knew he had an assistant but she’d never met her. If she called, what would she say? By the way, where’s my invitation? She would come across as needy and desperate.

  “So… What did you get?” Abby asked.

  “The most gorgeous creation and I had to fight two women for it. Honestly, this is a small town. That sort of behavior is not supposed to be on display here.” Holding the dress by the shoulders straps, Faith drew it out of the bag, revealing it one inch at a time. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful. Oh, you’re going to look so good in it.”

  “Feel the fabric.”

  “What little there is of it.” Abby smiled and pointed at the low-cut back. “It’s rather daring. How far down does that go?”

  “Far enough. I’ll have to hunt around for a pair of heels to go with it. I might even have to drive to the next town. I just walked past the shoe store and I saw three women fighting over the same pair of shoes and I swear not a single one of them would have been able to fit into them. You’d think none of them had ever been to a ball. Well, I haven’t, so I guess they haven’t either. We’re all so thrilled.”

  “I have a pair of black high heels you can borrow,” Abby offered. “I think we wear the same size.” She certainly wouldn’t need them.

  “Thank you. I’m going to try one other place. I remember seeing a pair of sling backs with a little bow on top.” Faith shrugged. “At the time, I didn’t think I’d ever get any use out of them. Anyway, what are you doing standing around? Go get yourself a dress. We’ve all been waiting for this shipment for weeks now. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss out.”

  Glancing at Doyle, Abby smiled. “We’ve only just returned. Doyle wants his nap and I need to make sense of the notes I took. Remember, I went out to interview Kinsley Roberts.” And, she too had been talking about the upcoming event.

  “You can work on the article this afternoon. And Doyle can sleep all he wants while you go to the store. You should hurry. Half an hour ago, there were only a handful of black evening gowns left. Who knows if you’ll find anything now? You don’t want to be the person walking around and having other people point and say… Oh, I saw that dress, but it looked dreadful on the hanger. Gloria said she’s put in another order for more dresses but they might not arrive in time.”

  Abby scratched around for a response. “That’s okay. I have my little cocktail dress. It’s served me well over the years and is good enough for all occasions.”

  “Good enough? That won’t cut it. This is a ball. A Venetian Ball. You need a special evening gown, not a cocktail dress you drag out for any old affair.”

  Abby bent down and looked under her desk and peered through the gaps in the floorboard.

  Why hadn’t she received an invitation?

  “I’m sorry, Abby. You should have come by earlier. I had a new shipment come in this morning but the dresses sold like hot cakes.” Gloria Schultz, the owner of Eden’s one and only clothing store, Mannequin, flipped the Closed sign over. Clearly, she had done well enough to call it a day.

  Abby huffed out a breath. She couldn’t even pretend to be one of the lucky few attending the ball. Giving Gloria a brisk smile, she said, “I hear there’s another shipment coming in.”

  “It’s been delayed.” Gloria grabbed her keys and waved her toward the door. “Sorry to rush you. I’m already late for my hairdresser’s appointment. She managed to squeeze me in but only because she had a last-minute cancellation. I tried to make the booking as soon as I received the invitation for the Venetian Ball, but she was already fully booked. I got lucky. One of her customers ended up having her baby a couple of days early. I guess I’ll have to sleep sitting down for two days so I don’t crush my hairdo.”

  Abby tugged a lock of hair behind her ear. People were getting their hair done?

  “I don’t understand why Charles didn’t give us more notice. This is the event of the year. He’s throwing open the doors to Willoughby Park. I hear it’s quite splendid and as grand as any palace the Queen lives in. We should have had months to prepare.”

  A palace? Granted, Abby thought, the house did resemble an English country estate but it was just a house and Charles Granger hosted several events throughout the year, all organized to benefit the local hospital.

  Gloria checked to see if she had everything she needed. “Oh, I can’t remember ever being this excited. Not since my wedding and that was thirty years ago. A Venetian Ball. Just imagine it. I hear everyone will be issued a mask to wear. It all sounds so wonderfully magical.”

  Abby couldn’t go back to the Gazette empty-handed. She simply couldn’t face Faith. Not yet. Not until she came up with a credible story for not attending the ball. She’d have to come clean and admit to not having received an invitation…

  She reached the corner and waited for a car to drive by. Crouching down, she hurried across the street and ducked inside the pub. She could only hope Faith hadn’t been looking out the window at that precise moment. Faith could be a hard taskmaster when she put her mind to it. In her opinion, Abby needed a new dress so Abby had to get a new dress.

  Abby knew she’d find some peace and quiet at the pub. After her failure at Mannequin’s, she needed to regroup and come up with a solid lie for not attending the ball.

  Abby frowned.

  A lie?

  Why not just tell the truth?

  She felt a rush of heat settle on her cheeks. The truth meant she’d have to own up to being excluded, and no o
ne liked to be left out.

  Inside, she made a beeline for the counter and collapsed on a barstool.

  “What will it be?” Mitch asked. The co-owner of the Gloriana smiled from ear to ear and looked about ready to burst out laughing.

  Did he know something she didn’t?

  Had news about Abby not getting a dress, or even an invitation, begun to spread around town?

  “Coffee, please.” Abby glanced over her shoulder. Seeing only a couple of customers, she asked, “Slow day?”

  “The lunch hour came and went at the blink of an eye. People are rushing around making last minute preparations. Even Markus took off to try his new tuxedo on.”

  Markus? He had an invitation and Mitch’s brother had joined the frenzy?

  “Oh?” was all she managed to say.

  “I had a fitting last week, but I’m more organized.”

  Bespoke tuxedos?

  “I didn’t realize there was a tailor in town.”

  Mitch nodded. “He came out of retirement just for this event.”

  “I see.”

  Mitch leaned in and murmured, “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. Markus and I have been taking ballroom dancing lessons.”

  Markus Faydon, the bear with a sore head…

  Straightening, Mitch shrugged. “We’ve been to a few shindigs at Willoughby Park, but nothing will compare to a Venetian Ball. I hear there’s going to be a fireworks display. Charles wanted Hanna to do the catering, but Markus put his foot down saying he hadn’t taken all those ballroom dancing lessons to have his girlfriend slaving over a hot stove.”

  “Um, coffee?”

  “Oh, right.” He turned and got busy grinding some coffee. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “So, have you decided what you’re going to wear?”

  When Abby ran out of excuses for staying away from the Gazette, she returned. If Faith asked about the dress, she’d… she’d have to lie.

  Or admit to the fact she hadn’t been included.

  Which would be worse?

  Pride had never figured prominently in her outlook; her personality simply didn’t need it. Until now. Would she lie in order to save face?

  Lost in her thoughts, she strode into the Gazette.

  “Hey, Abby. Look who’s here.”

  It took a moment to recognize the man from his back.

  Sebastian Cavendish.

  His grandfather, Dermott Cavendish, had owned the Eden Rise Gazette and had been responsible for luring Abby half way around the world to live and work in the small-town. When he’d met an untimely end, Sebastian had been generous enough to keep the small-town newspaper open in memory of his grandfather. Otherwise, he had bigger fish to fry, including his national newspaper, The Daily First.

  “Sebastian made a special trip to attend the Venetian Ball,” Faith said, her tone excited.

  Honestly, the next person who mentioned a Venetian Ball…

  Sebastian turned and waved hello. “A Venetian Ball in Eden. How could I miss it?”

  Abby smiled. “Sebastian. It’s good to see you again.” Had he come alone?

  Abby tried to remember if the invitation Faith had shown her had included a plus one. “Everyone is talking about it,” she said. “I’ve just been over at the pub and even Mitch is excited.”

  A lightning bolt idea struck. It came from right out of nowhere. Okay, Abby admitted, it had most likely surged from deep within her pit of despair and desperation.

  Her mind cranked up and started generating a few ideas. If she dressed up and showed up, she could linger by the door and wait for Sebastian to arrive, then she’d engage him in conversation and simply tag along with him. Everyone would assume she’d gone as his plus one.

  Doyle yawned and settled his little head on his paws, his large chocolate brown eyes giving her a head to toe look.

  “So, where’s your dress?” Faith asked. Turning to Sebastian, she added, “I had to shove her out the door so she could get to the store before they ran out. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she didn’t care either way about the Venetian Ball.”

  She didn’t. Not really. Okay. So, she couldn’t go so far as to say she didn’t care. Otherwise, she would not have spent so much time wondering why she had been left out.

  Now… Well, inspiration, motivation, and a pinch of creativity had sparked her enthusiasm. She might even go so far as to say she felt excited.

  A Venetian Ball!

  She would gate-crash it.

  Chapter Two

  Abby finished reading the last draft of her feature article for the week. Stretching and yawning, she looked over at Doyle. “The clock is ticking, buddy. I have two days to organize a gown for the ball.” Abby bobbed her eyebrows up and down and swiveled her chair. “Yes, I’m referring to the Venetian Ball.”

  Faith had been right. Her little black cocktail dress wouldn’t stand up to the task. She had worn it multiple times and had never had any reason to upgrade it. Now… She’d caught the bug and could feel herself swept away with the excitement that had been building up all month around town. The excitement she had been doing her best to ignore.

  However, with only two days remaining until the special night, she might have to make do. “Any suggestions, Doyle? I have already exhausted all the reasonable avenues.” She’d had to wait until Faith had stepped out for a late lunch to start making a few phone calls to clothing stores within easy driving distance, but that had yielded disappointing results with one store owner saying she should have called earlier. Another had informed her the last dress had just sold and it had been divine. One store owner had even laughed and, without being told, had known Abby had been calling from Eden.

  “I am not driving two hundred miles to the city.” Would she have a choice? It would be a six hour round trip. Add to that the time it would take her to find a suitable dress…

  She’d have to set aside an entire day.

  There had to be an alternative. She didn’t have to buy a new dress. Surely, she didn’t.

  “How about a coffee?” And a chat with Joyce Breeland. The local café owner had an extensive wardrobe and they were both the same size. More or less. With any luck, Joyce might have something suitable for Abby to wear.

  “I wish you’d mentioned it earlier.” Joyce drew out a chair and sat down. “As soon as we received our invitations, a bunch of us organized ourselves and drove into the city. We made a day of it. If I’d known you were in need of a dress, I would have invited you to come along.”

  Just her luck, Joyce’s one and only black gown had a rip in it.

  “Have you been to Mannequin?” Joyce tapped her chin. “Yes, of course, you have. Let me think.” Her eyes sparkled and she straightened. “I know. You could try Miffi Howsen. She’s a local dressmaker and quite talented.” Joyce gave her a reassuring nod. “She studied her craft in Milan and honed her skills in Paris. We’re very lucky she chose to retire here.” Joyce leaned in and whispered, “If you ask nicely, I’m sure she’ll help you out.”

  A waitress approached Abby’s table and set down her order of light as air blueberry pancakes along with a Meandering Type of Day coffee. Abby had selected it because, while she needed to remain engaged on the task at hand, she also needed to remain calm. And hopeful, she added. So, she’d avoided the type of caffeine boost that would see her ricocheting around the place.

  “Oh dear. You might want to forego the pancakes,” Joyce suggested. “Black is a slimming shade but you want to look your best. I’ve been on a cleansing diet for two days and plan on having a small salad before the event.”

  Abby gave her a brisk smile. “I think I can handle a few pancakes.”

  “If you say so.”

  “So, where do I find Miffi Howsen?”

  “I’ll write down the address for you. You could try calling her, but she rarely answers the phone.” Joyce reached for Abby’s glass of water. “Do you mind?”

  “Go for it.” Taking a bite of her pancake, Abby said
, “I hope your diet consists of more than just water.”

  “Of course, it does. There’s lots of cucumber water and a few carrots and celery sticks.” Joyce patted her cheeks. “Am I glowing?”

  “You are.”

  “Then it’s working.”

  A waitress strode by carrying a large serving of bacon and eggs. The aroma wafted around Abby. As she took another bite of her pancakes, she noticed Joyce swaying slightly.

  “Are you okay?” Abby asked.

  “Yes. Of course.” Joyce took another sip of water. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re attending the ball. It’s been a month and I haven’t heard you mention it. Not even once.”

  Abby arranged another mouthful on her fork. “With everyone talking about it, I could barely get a word in edgewise. The entire town is attending. I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” Even if she had to climb over a wall and sneak in the back door.

  Abby checked the address Joyce had written down for her, saying under her breath, “I can book Doyle in for an impromptu grooming session but I can’t even have my bangs trimmed. At least, not until two days after the ball because, of course, the hairdresser will need a day to recover from the event.”

  Slowing down, she looked at the house numbers. On any other day, she might have walked here, but time remained very much of the essence.

  The picturesque cottage had a typical corrugated iron roof used predominantly in the Victorian era and a garden more suited to a house in an English village than an Australian alpine town.

  Abby pushed the gate open and strode up the paved path. She had stopped by her apartment and had retrieved her little black cocktail dress. With only two days remaining, she couldn’t hope for a new gown but, with any luck, perhaps Miffi Howsen could work her magic and spiff the little dress up.

  When she reached the front door, Abby gave her sleeve a tug. She could do this. If push came to shove, she would have to engage her negotiation skills and, if that didn’t work, she could get down on her knees and beg.