Here Comes Trouble (4 page)

Shortly after he knocked on the door, he found
himself inside, being swarmed with hugs and
kisses from his mother's friends. After carefully
dodging Janice's too-moist kiss, he noted the
group hadn't aged much except for a little extra
steel in Cait's glare. She informed the others to
give him a chance to breathe.

"It wouldn't feel like home if I didn't get hugs
from my mom's friends," he replied with a smile.
He hadn't realized how much he'd missed them
all.

The aroma of Cait's famous shortbread made
his stomach growl. "You didn't by any chance do
some baking today?" he asked in the same tone
he'd used as a boy whenever he smelled Cait's
cookies. "That smell makes me mighty hungry and
you know your baking is the best in Littlemouth."

"If you think I'm taken in by your sweet talk,
you're sadly mistaken, Quinlan."

He gave her his best forlorn look and she cackled in response.

"You always did have too much charm for any
one young man. Now you just follow me to the
kitchen and we'll see if there's something for you
in there." Cait gave the others a pointed stare and
Quin wondered what it meant. He forgot the
thought as soon as the swinging door into the
kitchen opened to reveal a feast laid out on Cait's
checkerboard tablecloth. Not only was there shortbread cut into neat triangles but also chocolate
chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookies.

"I couldn't let you come home without making
your favorite treats, could I, Quin?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Boswell. I've really missed
your cookies-and you." He gave her a peck on
the cheek.

She blushed as she bustled forward to get him
a saucer. "Now, you help yourself, just like always. There's milk in the refrigerator."

As soon as she turned her back, he gobbled a
couple cookies, then filled his plate and got a glass
of milk. He knew something about Cait which he
suspected few other people in Littlemouth knew:
she was incredibly soft-hearted.

When he returned with plate and glass in hand
to the living room, the ladies were peculiarly silent and he wondered if his mother had told them he
was seriously ill instead of only a little bruised up.

Taking a seat on the maroon velvet rocker his
mother indicated, he hoped he wouldn't spill his
milk and stain it. Cait was extremely proud of her
maroon velvet rockers.

"How are you doing, Miss Tipplemouse? Are
things at the library okay?"

"I'll say," replied Miss Tipplemouse, who, ever
since his voice had deepened, stopped being able
to speak to him in sentences. She was extremely
shy around men and sometimes it caused a few
problems when an unaccompanied man came to
the library looking for research help since the most
answer any man could hope for from her was, "I'll
say."

"Miss Tipplemouse made sure the library has a
complete collection of your news articles, Quinlan," said Prissy Goody.

"What did you think of my article on the South
American drug cartels, Miss Tipplemouse?"
Quin's lips twitched, almost giving him away.
Ever since middle school he'd been trying to trick
her into talking.

"She couldn't stop discussing it for weeks,
Quin," replied his mother, who was obviously onto
his game.

Miss Tipplemouse nodded happily.

"I appreciate your interest," he said, then ate another cookie to satisfy Cait, who appeared to be
waiting for his reaction to her fine baking. "Mmm.
I haven't had cookies this good in a long time."

Cait smiled but his mother gave him a cross
look. "You'd think I didn't ever bake from the
way you talk, Quin."

He grinned at her and ate another cookie. "You
know what I think of your pies, Mom."

She smiled and he relaxed, knowing peace was
restored.

"So, Quin, have you heard the latest Littlemouth
gossip?" asked Janice in her vampish Mae West
voice.

"About the new car dealership coming to
town?"

"Oh, my," tittered Prissy. "That's old news."

"I seem to be out of the loop," Quin said. In the
past, the women had been careful to curtail gossip
in front of their children, as if said children
weren't fully aware the reader's group was a front
for rumor central. Evidently they considered him
a grown-up now.

"Have you met anyone interesting since coming
home?" asked Janice.

"I've only been home since yesterday. But I'm
planning to go see Brendan McCade later today."

"Brendan has become a fine young man," replied Janice. "He makes a handsome deputy sheriff and wait until you see him in his uniform! Makes my heart flutter. Most of the young women
in town have tried to capture that one."

"Have you seen Stella?" asked Cait in an innocent voice which was enough to make Quin take
notice. "Now, she's turned out to be an interesting
young woman."

"I saw her in passing." He had to be careful
here. The last thing he wanted to do was let them
get wind of him groping her in a dumpster. "She's
still teaching biology?"

Prissy nodded. "I suppose you heard about my
daughter breaking off the engagement?"

"The engagement?" He was shocked, though
hid it well. Somehow, he'd never thought about
Stella marrying anyone. She really ought to have
mentioned it before he'd begun fantasizing about
kissing her. Besides, why hadn't his mother told
him about Stella being engaged?

He scooted in his chair. Maybe things in Littlemouth had changed more than he'd thought.

"To James Dexter," added Cait.

"I hadn't heard anything about it." How could
Stella think about marrying that stick in the mud?
The kids hadn't nicknamed him Poindexter for
nothing. Quin looked at his mother, hoping for a
clue, but she had her gaze glued to her hands.

Janice jumped in, "I hope it won't embarrass
you, Prissy, if I tell Quin?"

"I suppose it would be best coming from me,
but I'm afraid I find it a bit too recent."

Janice leaned forward, as if to impart hush-hush
information. "It all began when Stella took her
Maid of Honor home to see her wedding dress."

"My daughter, Anne," chimed in Cait.

"You do know Stella inherited her grandmother's home over on Park Street, Quinlan?"
asked Prissy.

"I'm glad to hear she got the house," he said as
steadily as he could. "I always liked your mother.
I was sorry to hear about her death."

"It's been several years, and while I miss her,
I'm glad Stella has her own place."

"When Stella and Anne arrived," Janice said,
drawing the attention back to herself, "James's car
was parked in the driveway."

"So tragic," murmured Miss Tipplemouse, obviously much moved by the story and Quin wondered where it could be leading. When he'd seen
her, Stella had looked like Stella, his childhood
best friend and the prettiest girl in town. Of course,
by the time they'd parted today, she'd looked a bit
worse for wear-more like the dirtiest girl in
town.

"Stella and Anne went upstairs to the guest
room where Stella had hung her gown, but when
they got there, the wedding veil was missing," Janice continued. "When they'd come in, they hadn't seen any sign of James, so now with both the veil
and the groom missing, they became worried and
began to search the place."

"Janice," said his mother. "I don't think-"

Cait gave her an extremely pointed look while
Janice went on. "When they got to Stella's bedroom, what do you think they found?"

"She found Dexter with another woman?"

"No," cried Janice.

After a moment's hesitation, the ladies all
laughed. Shrilly. What was so funny about that?

"If only that's what it had been," said Janice,
melodramatically.

"What was it then?"

Janice beamed at him like he was a bright young
man. He must have asked the right question. There
was a breathless hush as each of the women became as motionless as a cobra about to strike.

"She found the groom trying on her wedding
veil."

"Poindexter?!"

"Oh, my," moaned Miss Tipplemouse as she
and the other ladies leaned forward in their seats.
"Poor, poor Stella."

He had to admit that this certainly made her
interesting-at least among the gossip set. As
proud as Stella was, though, he knew she'd taken
it hard. "Is she doing all right?"

"Oh, dear me, yes," answered his mother. "That child has so many interests, what's a mere man
when compared to them?"

"I'm glad to hear that." Poor Stella.

He checked Prissy's expression to see how
she'd taken having her daughter's dirty laundry
aired in public. She was gaping at Janice Smith as
if she were some sort of alien being. Very strange
and not at all the reaction he'd expected.

He shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps more had
changed in Littlemouth than he'd first thought.

"You're aware, Quin, about the upcoming high
school reunion?" asked Cait.

"I heard about it."

Prissy Goody leaned forward. "My daughter is
too shy to ask you, but she hinted she'd like to go
with you."

Stella was never too shy to speak up before, so
he couldn't see why it would be a problem now.
But maybe after her breakup she was feeling reluctant? "Thanks for the tip. I'll see what I can
do."

Prissy gave him a big toothy grin and the other
Troublemakers looked quite pleased with themselves. A tad too pleased.

Cait contained herself until she'd ushered
Debby and Quin out the door. Then she turned to
Janice and shrieked.

"I thought you were going to tell him she'd
found him with another woman!"

"He expected that. You heard him. He wouldn't
have found that at all interesting. So I ad-libbed a
little. The story I told him was true." She giggled.
"Except it took place in Muskogee and with other
people. I read about it in the paper last week and
it stuck with me."

Prissy stood with her hands on her hips. "I wish
you hadn't told that zinger, Janice. My poor
daughter would die of mortification if she heard
such a story. I can't believe you did it."

Janice grinned broadly. "Well, I think it worked.
Did you see the look on his face? He'll hightail it
over to Stella's place within twenty-four hours and
ask her to the reunion."

Prissy shook her head. "He probably thinks
there's something wrong with her. My heavens,
Janice, what will you think up next? You know
there're such things as slander and libel."

"I sure hope we know what we're doing, ladies," Prissy continued, rising from her chair. "If
we go too far, Quin may never come home again."

"Then we'll have to see that we don't make any
mistakes," replied Cait in a voice of finality.

"We'll tell him about Stella being a bestselling
author tomorrow," Miss Tipplemouse suggested
gleefully. "I really like that one. With him being
a famous journalist, I'm sure he'll find that interesting."

When Stella pulled into her driveway after
school the following day, her mother sat waiting
for her in one of the two matching white wicker
rockers adorning Stella's front porch.

Stella parked, grabbed her heavy satchel, then
went to greet her mother. "You look nice today,
Mom."

"Thank you, Stella." She eyed Stella's pastel
blue suit and white blouse. "Perhaps we should go
shopping next week? I think you could use an update."

"My clothes are fine for my lifestyle." Her
mother wanted her to dress more like a student
than a teacher. Stella unlocked the door and waited
for her mom to go in, before using her foot to kick the door closed. "Come on in the kitchen and I'll
make us both some iced tea."

"I can't stay long. I came to ask you a favor."

Stella dropped her things on the kitchen table,
then went to the sink to fill the kettle with fresh
water. "What do you need?"

"I ran into Millicent in town today."

"That snob?" Stella rolled her eyes. Millicent
was the thorn in her mother's side. "Did she give
you grief over Elise's engagement?"

"So, you know about it."

"Yeah, Elise called me yesterday and told me
about her engagement. She warned me her mother
might try to one-up you over it."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd stopped
there." Her mother bit her lip, then took a deep
breath. "Stella, you have to help me out."

"I'm not going to run off and marry the first
man I see, Mom, just to put Millicent in her
place."

"Don't be silly. All I want is your promise."

Stella put the kettle on the stove and turned on
the burner. "What's the promise?"

"That you won't go stag to the class reunion
like you did to the prom. Is that asking so much?"

"I promise to take it into consideration."

"I'm sure one of my friends could find you a
date if-"

"I'll find my own dates, thank you."

"But the reunion is less than two weeks away.
At least promise that if anyone asks you, you'll
agree to go with him."