A Pour Way to Dye (Book 2 in the Soapmaking Mysteries) (29 page)

“
I suppose you could use my
office,” I said. “It’s upstairs, and it has a beautiful view of the
shop down here.” I gestured to the darkened glass above
us.

“
There’s an elevator, I
presume,” she said.

“
No, ma’am, but the steps
aren’t bad.”

It was clear that I’d somehow managed to
disappoint her yet again. If this woman put on her high-and-mighty
act during her presentation, I was going to have people throwing
bars of soap at her to get her off the stage.

“
Very well,” she finally
agreed. “Lead the way.”

I led her through the hallway door to the
back, past the idle production equipment and up the stairs. My
brothers had howled when I’d demanded they shut the line down for
the two days of festivities, but Mom had backed me up. We needed
their help out front, and whether they liked it or not, they were
going to be working the cash registers later, hopefully until their
fingers were bruised from ringing up all of the sales we were going
to make.

I led the contessa into my office, and she
looked around with a critical eye. I could swear I saw her
deliberately sniff the air before she turned to me and said, “As
green rooms go, this is rather squalid.”

“
As an office though, I like
it just fine.” I was half expecting her to ask for a basket of red
M&M’s and a Swedish masseur, but she plopped down in my chair
and immediately swung around to survey the sales floor
below.

“
I’m concerned about
something,” she said as she tapped the glass. “Are you certain you
have enough books?”

“
I think we’ll be fine.” I’d
pushed Mom to order the contessa’s books through Diana Long, my
current girlfriend and the woman who also happened to own the only
independent bookstore in town. Though Dying To Read carried
mysteries exclusively, Diana had used her resources to order the
books for our event. She’d be handling the autograph session after
the contessa’s presentation since she was used to dealing with
authors and we weren’t. While Diana had told me that most of the
writers she hosted at her shop were delightful, she had shared
enough horror stories to make me realize that she’d be our best
choice for handling the contessa. I scanned the crowd of shoppers
below and saw that she’d slipped in since I’d escorted our guest
upstairs.

“
Is there anything else you
need?”

She waved that gloved hand at me again. “No,
you may go. I trust you’ve set up my materials as requested?”

Demanded would have been a better choice of
words. The contessa’s assistant, Sharon, had dropped by the shop
the night before with a diagram in her hand, every detail spelled
out. It had taken me half the night to get it just right, and
Sharon had stayed until past midnight to make sure of it.

“
Will your assistant be
joining you soon?” I asked.

“
Sharon will introduce me,
of course, but beyond that, I’m not quite sure what the girl is up
to. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was sleeping in. Her
door was closed when I left this morning. Now if you’ll leave me, I
must focus on the presentation ahead.”

“
Glad to,”
I said as I scooted out the door. I thought about putting
a
do not disturb
sign up on my door, but nobody had any reason to
come up there. Mom had the only other active office upstairs since
my grandfather had deserted his, and she was fluttering around the
sales floor below like a butterfly searching for a place to
land.

I was at the bottom step when I found myself
wrapped in the embrace of a solid, curvy brunette with deep brown
eyes. After Diana kissed me, I said, “I’m happy to see you,
too.”

She laughed, a sound that never failed to
delight me. I’d been recently dumped in a budding relationship with
Kelly Sheer—a local attorney now trying to reconcile with her
ex-husband—when Diana and I started dating. It had been tough going
at first, but it hadn’t taken long for her to capture a very
special place in my heart.

“
You must be excited,” Diana
said. “There’s quite a crowd out here already.”

“
I just hope our guest of
honor doesn’t disappoint them,” I said.

“
What’s the matter, do you
have a diva on your hands?”

“
Diana, she showed up
wearing red satin gloves; this from a woman who makes soap. You’d
think she produces gold in that kitchen of hers instead of
cleansers.”

“
Her books are popular,
Ben,” Diana said. “I’ve asked some other independent sellers I
know, and they say she moves a lot of books for them. Besides, she
probably wears the evening gloves to keep that ‘glamour’ image she
tries to portray.” Diana lowered her voice as she added, “She’s not
really a contessa, you know, or any kind of royalty at all. The
entire getup is an elaborate pseudonym for her writing
persona.”

“
So what’s her real name?” I
asked. If the self-proclaimed contessa got too pretentious, I’d
drop her real moniker casually into the conversation just to get
her attention.

Diana frowned. “I don’t know. I did some
snooping around on the Internet after I ordered her books, but it’s
a pretty closely guarded secret.”

“
Isn’t that the whole point
of a pseudonym?” I asked.

“
You’re kidding, right?
Mystery writers use them all the time. I even know one man who’s
got another series that he writes under a woman’s name.”

“
How did that happen?” It
truly was a fascinating business she worked in, and sometimes I
thought she had the better career between the two of us.

“
He came here for a signing
once and I asked him the exact same thing. It turns out that a
different publisher liked his style, but they thought he’d sell
more books with a female name because of the traditional mysteries
he writes.”

“
And were they
right?”

Diana grinned. “I don’t know yet, it’s too
early to say, but I like everything he writes.”

Cindy, my youngest sibling, poked her head
through the door. “There you are. Ben, Mom’s looking for you.
Should I tell her you’re canoodling in back with your
girlfriend?”

I was starting to answer when Diana beat me
to it. “In all honesty, I wanted to canoodle, but Ben said he was
too busy so I’m settling for a little gossip instead.”

Cindy smiled. “Oh, goody. I adore dirt. Tell
me.”

I brushed past her and said, “I’d love to,
but you said it yourself. Mom needs me.”

She stuck her tongue out at me—something that
made her look barely as old as the eighteen years she had—and Diana
trailed along behind.

“
Spoilsport,” Cindy
said.

“
Every chance I get,” I
replied.

Once we were out on the sales floor, Diana
said, “I’d better make sure the books are in their proper sequence
of publication. Sharon was pretty emphatic about it when she came
by the bookstore yesterday afternoon.”

“
So she read the riot act to
you, too?”

Diana smiled. “She’s nice enough, but I get
the distinct impression she isn’t her boss’s biggest fan.”

“
I can’t imagine that,” I
said with a smile.

“
See you later,” Diana said
as she moved to the table stacked high with the contessa’s
books.

I found Mom by the front register, and from
the pained expression on her face, I had a feeling that I was going
to have more trouble on my hands than a temperamental writer. My
mother was a slim woman with frosted hair, and it always delighted
her when people expressed shock at the fact that she had seven
children, the youngest already eighteen.

“
I’ve seen that look
before,” I said as I neared my mother. “What’s wrong?”

“
Benjamin, I know I should
be happy we’re filling up, but there are too many people here.
Perhaps we should have gotten more help for these
events.”

“
Don’t worry, we’ve got it
under control,” I said. “With the guys helping out up front, we
should be fine.” I patted her shoulder as I added, “Enjoy it, Mom.
It’s a day to celebrate.”

The frown left her mouth. “Yes, of course
you’re right.” She gestured all around us, then added, “It was a
wonderful idea, Benjamin.”

“
Thanks,” I said as I
watched a little old man try to shove a selection of soaps under
his coat. “I’ll talk to you in a second. I’ve got to take care of
something.”

I left her and caught up with the thief just
as he stepped outside our front door.

“
Can I help you?” I asked as
I touched his shoulder.

He acted as if I’d shot him. The man spun
around out of my grasp, ejecting stolen soaps from under his coat
like they were on fire. My grip loosened for a second, I was so
startled by the display, and he managed to slip out of my grasp.
The man must have been a sprinter in younger days, because he
bolted off the porch so fast that he was gone before I could catch
my breath. I collected the errant soaps and walked back inside. I’d
been hoping no one had caught the exchange, but of course my mother
had seen it all. She motioned to me, and I walked back to her,
prepared for a scolding.

Instead, she hugged me. “Nicely done, Ben. I
believe you are in control after all.”

I just shook my head, then I started trolling
through the crowd more earnestly, trying to spot anyone else who
wanted to help themselves to our handcrafted products. It suddenly
occurred to me that my office would be the perfect place to spot
miscreants, but unfortunately it was occupied at the moment. That
still left my grandfather’s and mother’s offices open, though. But
I needed someone on the ground to nab any culprits I found, and
unfortunately, my entire family was busy at the moment helping
legitimate customers. I did the best I could acting as the entire
store security team, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough on a day
like we were having. Who knows how much inventory walked out
without the benefit of a receipt? That was just one more loss
attributable to my idea for the festival. At least we were selling
lots of things legitimately. I decided my presence walking among
the customers might have a more detrimental effect on the
shoplifters than spying down on them from above, so I started
walking through the store, keeping my eye out for anyone trying to
rip us off.

A little while later, I heard an incessant
tapping that I couldn’t place. It sounded as if a lovesick
woodpecker was declaring its passion on one of our windowpanes, and
it took me longer than it should have to realize that it was the
contessa trying to get my attention from above.

I trotted up the stairs and found her
standing behind my desk with a scowl plastered on her face. “It
took you long enough to get here.”

“
Things are a little busy on
the floor right now,” I said.

“
Where is Sharon?” she
snarled at me as I started to ask her what was so
urgent.

“
I don’t have a clue,” I
said. “She’s your employee, not mine.” I was a little more abrupt
than I probably should have been, but the woman was already getting
on my nerves. If I were Sharon, I’d hide if I could,
too.

“
If she doesn’t get here in
time to introduce me, you’ll have to do it yourself.” She looked
like she was as excited by the prospect as I was, which was not at
all.

“
I’ll get one of my siblings
to do it,” I said. I wanted to keep an eye on things in the store
while the contessa gave her presentation. I was getting paranoid
about our visitors.

“
You’ll do it yourself,
Ben,” she said as she shoved a piece of paper at me. I glanced at
her handwritten scrawl and was nearly knocked over by her use of
adjectives describing just how wonderful she was. There was no way
on earth I could say what she’d written with a straight
face.

“
Are you sure you wouldn’t
rather have someone else do this?” I asked.

“
I’m positive.” She glanced
at the clock on my wall. “If Sharon is still not here in two
minutes, you’ll have to do the honors yourself. I pride myself on
punctuality, and I won’t let that child thwart me. Two minutes, do
you understand me?”

“
I get it,” I
said.

I started to leave in search of Sharon when
the contessa asked, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“
I thought I’d look for your
assistant,” I said.

“
There’s no time for that.
You will wait here with me, and we will walk down the stairs
together.”

“
Fine,” I said. I watched as
the second hand of my clock plodded slowly around twice, hoping for
a reprieve, but none came. It appeared that I’d be doing the
introductions myself after all.

She offered me her gloved hand, then said,
“Shall we?”

“
Certainly,” I said. Maybe
if I fell going down the stairs and broke my leg I wouldn’t have to
give the introduction. Try as I might, I managed to get down the
steps without breaking anything, much to my dismay. She touched my
arm at the door in back and said, “When you say my name, project it
loudly enough for me to hear you, and I’ll enter.”

“
I’ll do my best.” As I
walked to the microphone, I was frantically searching the gathered
crowd, hoping that Sharon was waiting for us out on the sales
floor. She was nowhere to be seen. All of the chairs in front of
the worktable and microphone were full, and there was standing room
only behind them. We’d had to move out some of our shelves in order
to accommodate our visitors, and I’d worried about the lost
revenue, but at least we were packing people in, and if the number
of shopping bags they carried was any indication, the day might
just be profitable after all.