Page 14 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

NINE

“Well, this has always been a sweet little place,” my mother said after we had strolled through Bar Harbor for an hour.

It sounded like a compliment, but it wasn’t. I knew her tone. She said it the way you did when someone showed you pictures of their baby and you had to scramble for a compliment. My mother did not believe all babies were cute.

And she clearly wasn’t impressed with the local shops and the natural splendor of her surroundings.

Oliver and I exchanged a look.

Honestly, if she couldn’t find a town as quaint and picturesque as Bar Harbor charming, she just needed to stay in her bubble in the valley.

“It is if you like Hallmark movies,” I told her. “And unobstructed mountain vistas, with a boreal forest overlooking ocean cliffs and rocky beaches.”

I was offended by her nonchalance on my adopted state’s behalf.

She lowered her sunglasses to study me. “Good Lord, did you memorize the town brochure?”

I might have. I had done an online search of the shops just to prepare myself in advance for any complaints she might launch.

I’d spent the drive here leaning forward from the back seat while talking up the importance of local businesses and Maine lobster.

Oliver had been driving but that hadn’t stopped him from giving me amused glances in the rearview mirror.

My mother had stared out the passenger window reflecting repeatedly on the fact that golf tee times are absurdly early.

That was something I was grateful for—the early tee time meant my father, Cameron, and Henry had left nearly two hours before us. If we’d had to ride together, that would have been a crowded car ride.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I told my mother, smiling sweetly. I suspected she was still annoyed with me for ripping her pants.

I was annoyed with her for being annoyed with me so I figured we were even.

“And why are you being so rude to Cameron?” she demanded, yanking open the door to a boutique and glaring back at me. “He is bending over backwards to make you happy and you’re running around at night with Oliver ripping my pants instead of spending time with him.”

I knew she was mad about the pants! That confirmed it.

Oliver no longer looked amused. He didn’t like being dragged into drama. His sole purpose in moving to Maine had been to leave the drama behind in LA. Well, and to spend time with me, of course.

“We went for a walk!” I followed her inside the shop and stood behind her with my arms crossed.

The clothing on display was beach chic. Heavy on the navy blues and teals, with straw hats and anchors on sweaters.

Not my style. I had inherited my grammy’s love of color and seventies silhouettes.

If it didn’t scream dancing barefoot in a field, I didn’t want it.

“I didn’t think being in a relationship meant you couldn’t go for a walk with your best friend. ”

My mother paused with a scarf with waves on it in her hand and shot me a look of disapproval. “Now you’re being purposely obtuse. Why do you do this?”

“Do what ?” I genuinely had no idea what she was getting at.

“Make things harder for yourself. You dropped out of college to go on auditions and look at how that turned out.”

I’d had some modest success. It hadn’t been a total waste of time. “I was the star on my own show!” Murder, She Texted had lasted three seasons and I was proud of that. “What does any of that have to do with Cameron?”

“He’s wealthy, he comes from a good family, he’s attractive with good manners. He doesn’t have a drinking problem, he’s considerate, and for whatever reason he seems to genuinely like you, Sophie.”

I blinked. “That sounds very insulting.”

She sighed. “I just mean he appears to be putting in all the effort and you’re barely trying.”

Oliver appeared to be studying the case of jewelry with the intensity of a diamond salesman. He obviously didn’t want to be involved in this conversation. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to be involved in it either.

“If you play your cards right Cameron might even propose to you.” She slapped the scarf down on the display table in disgust. “But not if you can barely throw two words in the poor man’s direction because you’re too busy worrying about a dead Santa.”

“I mean, we should probably all be worried about a dead Santa,” I pointed out. I tried to chuckle.

Instead, I was having a panic attack. Was Cameron going to propose to me?

No. He wouldn’t do that. We’d only been dating a few months.

But he had flown my parents out to Maine as a surprise…

Oliver was trying on sunglasses. Since he’d stopped dying his hair and taken to wearing it in a modern pompadour, he looked like James Dean. He studied himself in the mirror, fixing his hair.

“Can I help you?” A woman approached us with a smile. She was wearing head-to-toe lobster, even down to a couple of crustaceans dangling from her ears. She was around my mother’s age.

“Not unless you know how to convince stubborn daughters they’re on the verge of ruining their lives.”

“Mom! I’m not on the verge of ruining my life.” Though I suspected I was going to ruin their trip if Cameron was nuts enough to propose to me. There was no way I could say yes at this point. We barely knew each other.

She opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue her point.

Lobster Lady looked like she would be on my mother’s side. She was nodding her head. “I know all about stubborn daughters. My Clare, let me tell you…”

This was going in a direction that was bound to end poorly. At least for me and maybe Clare, though she wasn’t here to witness her mother’s criticism.

“Hey, are you Oliver Maddox?”

I swiveled to see who was speaking. A woman in her early twenties was approaching Oliver. She looked to be the obvious and appropriate age to recognize him from his teen acting gig, The Hijinks of Haley and Jake .

Pleased for Oliver, I was about to enter their conversation to avoid the one with my mother when I spotted St. Nick on the sidewalk outside of the shop. I’d recognize that silver head of hair anywhere.

He wasn’t with the brunette he’d been with the night before.

Instead he was with Ashley, the blonde who had been running the Opulent Occasions booth.

Without giving it any thought, I just started walking toward the window, curious what they were doing. At the last second, I realized I shouldn’t let them see me, so I ducked behind a mannequin who seemed to be the center of a bachelorette party display table.

Last sail before the veil!

Final toast on the coast!

Various items declared those two slogans on repeat. Napkins, stadium cups, wine tumblers, T-shirts. It was like my mother had manifested bridal merchandise. Absently, I picked up a sash and fingered the satin fabric to look like I was shopping in case Nick and Ashley glanced my way.

They appeared to be arguing. Ashley was waving her hands around and talking a mile a minute. Nick was listening, arms crossed, a smug expression on his face as if he found her anger adorable.

Gross , as the girl with the space buns at the festival would say.

Inching closer to the door, I registered that my mother and Lobster Lady discussing the best restaurant to have lunch at in Bar Harbor and Oliver and his fan were laughing.

I was grateful no one was paying attention to me, but I was always unable to hear what Nick and Ashley were discussing because of all the shop chatter and the thick pane of glass in the display window.

Biting my lip, I debated what to do.

Then Ashley started to stomp away.

Only Nick grabbed her roughly by the arm.

Alarmed, I bolted out of the boutique after them, digging in my pocket for my cell phone.

“Young lady!” Lobster Lady called out after me, rushing out onto the sidewalk behind me. “She stole the wedding sash,” she told my mother. “I guess she wants to get married.”

No. I did not.

What I did want was to make sure Ashley was okay. Still fisting the sash—which I obviously intended to return—I scanned the street for any sign of her.

Just a few feet of walking and searching and I had my answer.

Ashley and Nick were in the alley between two buildings and they were kissing. Very passionately.

I didn’t see that coming.

Afraid they would see me, I turned so abruptly I ran smack into my mother.

“What on earth?” she demanded. She reached out and snatched the sash from my hands. “We need to pay for this.”

“I don’t want the bachelorette sash,” I protested. “I took it by accident.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sophie Anne. I have no idea what is even going through your head these days.

” She raised her fist angrily in the air like she was Richard Nixon.

Or maybe more like Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club.

At any rate, she looked like she was about to make something happen, which terrified me.

“Call Will,” she snapped into her cell phone.

I slunk behind her, feeling contrite and took the sash she shoved back at me. I carefully returned it to the table and smoothed it, apologizing to Lobster Lady. “I thought I saw George Clooney,” I told her.

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I understand.”

Oliver shot a “help me” look in my direction. He was cornered in the ceramic lighthouse section by his super fan.

I strode over with a smile plastered on my face. “Hi, sorry to interrupt but my mother is ready to go to lunch, Oliver.” I gave a shrug to the woman. “She gets hangry if she doesn’t eat at noon on the dot.”

“Right. Sure.” She nodded, absently. “Hey, aren’t you?—

“Great to meet you, bye!” I grabbed Oliver by the arm and we headed toward the door. On the off chance this woman did recognize me from my short-lived mystery show, I didn’t want to get trapped in conversation with her.

Not that I was opposed to having a fan. We all want fans. But Oliver looked like he’d had enough and I was very distracted by the fact that Nick was clearly cheating on the brunette we’d seen him with last night.

My mother pointed to the door like she was ordering two naughty children to their room. “Outside, you two. We’re meeting the boys for lunch.”

“Who are the boys?” Oliver asked. “Do Navy ships dock in port here?”

One, he sounded far more eager than he should if that were the case.

Two, my mother was not in the mood.

That earned him an arched eyebrow. She dug in her purse, spritzed herself with hand sanitizer like it was Chanel No. 5, and muttered, “I need a drink.”

“I think she’s having a hard time adjusting to the time zone change,” Oliver said.

I looped my arm through his. “She’s having a hard time adjusting to me .”

We were walking past the alley where I had seen Nick and Ashley. A glance in that direction showed Ashley was nowhere to be found. Nick was leaning against the brick wall smoking a cigar and wearing that same smug expression. I half-expected him to twirl his mustache.

Worried about Ashley’s well-being, I was about to confront him when I heard Ashley as she popped out of a door that led into a restaurant, heading directly toward Nick. “How soon until we’re back in Boston? I feel like there are constantly eyes on us here.”

That made me walk a little faster so we were out of view.

Was she worried about being seen with Nick? Or something more sinister?