Page 13 of Murder By the Millions

“Oh, come on, Allie,” Vanna said, adding raspberries to the batter she’d prepared. “One kiss does not make or break a relationship.”

“It didn’t feel right.” I was unwilling to educate them about Zach’s past. It wasn’t my story to tell. “We’re still friends. I’m fine with the arrangement. We play heads-up poker occasionally.”

“What’s that?” Vanna asked.

“It’s a game two people can play,” I said. “Both have to be aggressive, to a point. It’s a lot of fun. As a matter of fact, he’s coming over tonight for a penny-ante game.”

Vanna made a dismissive sound. “Poker is not in the least romantic. You should kiss him again. Take him by surprise. Throw yourself at him. See if it’ll change the chemistry.”

“No you shouldnotdo that. Sis, get real. It’s the reason why you lost you-know-who.”

“I didn’t throw myself at—”

“Yes, you did, and he bolted.” Tegan petted my shoulder. “If you’re sure it’s over.”

“I’m sure.” Engaged at twenty-two and unengaged months later, I’d been gun-shy about dating ever since. I really liked Zach, and I’d jumped at the chance to date him, but I knew now we weren’t meant to be.

“There’s someone else out there for you,” Tegan said.

“Is there?” Vanna quipped. “She’s now in the second half of her twenties. Men don’t exactly fall off trees once a woman reaches a certain age.”

Tegan snorted. “In that case, why aren’t you in a relationship?”

“I’m discerning.”

“Back to Jason Gardner.” I was desperate to change the subject. “I’m concerned about him destroying historic propertiesfor a mall. Reika is worried, too. She really wanted the houses to be preserved for a tour.”

“Reika is a stuffed shirt,” Vanna said.

“She is not. She loves our town and its history.” An idea came to me as I fetched a new mixing bowl. “You know what? As much as I like Jason …” And I did, I realized. A man with a well-tuned sense of humor was a rare find. “I’m going to make signs protesting the project. Maybe it’ll be a way to get the town council’s attention, and they won’t grant the permits, and he’ll move on.”

“Allie, that’s not a good idea,” Tegan warned.

“I agree,” Vanna chimed. “Nothing good can come from inserting oneself into politics. I should know.”

“What’re you talking about?” I asked.

Tegan sniggered. “My sister wanted to add speed bumps on North Mountain Road. Bikers came out in droves to object. They TPed her house. They smeared her car with petroleum jelly.”

Mountain Road had two designations. North Mountain Road was a twisting road running north of Main to the Blue Ridge Mountains. South Mountain Road was straighter and headed toward Asheville. Bikers, most of them Harley lovers, enjoyed speeding along the northern stretch and wouldn’t tolerate being bossed around.

“The worst offense,” Vanna said, “was when they iced up my sidewalk last winter and I fell.”

Tegan scoffed. “You survived.”

“With a bruised hip.”

“A bruised ego, you mean. Allie, my sweet friend, please don’t protest.” Tegan folded her hands in prayer. “You don’t know how Jason Gardner or anyone in his camp might retaliate.”

“In his camp? Does he have a camp?”

“Who knows?”

“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll bide my time. But if his plans prove to be bad for the community …”

“Vanna and I will demonstrate with you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Vanna gibed.