Chapter Three

“Just who I was looking for.”

Abby smiled as Liz Canfield strode up. The journalist managed to look cool and professional despite an outrageous amount of fringe hanging from the hem of her flapper dress.

Still, it wasn’t the fringe but the white-and-plum coquille-feather hair clip in her friend’s dark hair that had Abby’s smile widening. She gave Liz a quick hug.

Nell and Liz exchanged smiles.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” The comment was out before Abby could stop it. She blushed, realizing how rude it sounded. But she was puzzled. She’d personally reviewed the guest list. Liz hadn’t been on it.

“Hank was supposed to come, but he wasn’t feeling well. He asked me to take his place.” Liz jerked a thumb in Nell’s direction. “I’m supposed to interview this one and write up a story on the soiree. Though it meant getting a sitter for Sawyer, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to use my journalistic skills.”

When Liz had lost her job as a reporter in Chicago last year, the only job she’d been able to find was as a circulation analyst with a rival newspaper. This was the first Abby had heard of her working for the local paper. “When did you start working for Hank?”

Henry “Hank” Beaumont was the owner and editor in chief of the Hazel Green Chronicle.

“I’m just freelancing. It’s a terrific assignment.” Liz flashed a quick smile and gestured with her head toward the buffet table. “Free food, drink, and the company of good friends.”

“I’m happy it worked for you to be here. I know how busy you’ve been.” Abby gave Liz’s arm a squeeze. “How’s your mom?”

Though her smile never wavered, the light in Liz’s eyes dimmed. “She’s a trooper. After the surgery and chemo, she insists radiation is a walk in the park.”

The surgery and chemo had been anything but a walk in the park for Sandra Canfield, whose diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer had taken them all by surprise.

Abby’s grip tightened on her friend’s arm. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“That goes for me, too,” Nell told her.

“Hazel Green offering her assistance.” The dimples in the reporter’s cheeks winked. “Mom will be honored.”

Nell raised an elegant hand. “I’d love to stay and chat with you peons, but I must mingle.”

When she turned to go, Liz stepped forward. “Not so fast, HG. You need to answer a few questions first.”

Two perfectly arched dark brows winged upward. “What kind of questions?”

“Easy and quick ones.” Liz spoke rapidly as if fearful her interviewee might vanish into the crowd. “I promise.”

Nell gave an almost regal nod. “What would you like to know?”

How did the woman do it? Abby wondered. The tone, the mannerisms, the . . . look. As they watched, she’d morphed into Hazel.

Liz pulled out a phone from a purse shaped like a scallop shell. “Do you mind if I record the interview?”

Once Nell, er, Hazel, gave her assent, Liz launched into a flurry of questions.

“Readers will want to know how a platform reader and impersonator of well-known actors first crossed paths with the prominent—and obscenely wealthy—architect Richard Green.”

Hazel took a sip of champagne. Her eyes took on a distant look, and her lips curved. “I was living in New York when Richard came with a friend to a Chautauqua performance. He arrived just as I took the stage as Susan B. Anthony.” Hazel gave a throaty chuckle. “He told me later he was instantly smitten. I asked for clarification. Was it me who had him smitten or Miss Anthony?”

“If you were as good as they say, I have no doubt it was a little of both.” Liz glanced down as if making sure the phone was recording. “What was your first impression?”

“The man dazzled. He literally swept me off my feet. In less than six weeks, we were wed. After our honeymoon, I found myself living in this delightful town.” Hazel’s eyes turned luminous. “My darling Richard made it his mission to get the town’s name changed as a special wedding gift. Of course, he succeeded. My husband was very tenacious. I became the only person I knew who had a town named after her.”

“Quite an honor,” Liz agreed. “I imagine it was an adjustment going from being a performer to being a wife.”

“For the first few months, Richard and I kept very busy.” Hazel’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “We were, after all, newlyweds.”

Abby felt a pang of envy before remembering none of this had happened to Nell.

“Then I threw myself into getting my new hometown on the Chautauqua circuit.” Hazel’s gaze swept the room before refocusing on Liz. “It was a challenge, but I persevered. Like my husband, I can also be tenacious. I’ve always believed the arts to be an essential part of a vital community.”

The interview continued. Liz asked so many questions Abby was surprised “Hazel” didn’t ask the reporter whether she was writing a newspaper article or a book.

Abby wandered over to a table holding enough petit fours to fill a stadium. Folding a napkin over two flowered ones, she slipped them into her tiny bag before returning to her friends.

She arrived just as Liz slipped the phone into her bag.

“Look to your right.” Nell was back in her own skin for the moment, her husky voice a whisper. “Rachel brought him tonight.”

No need to say who. Rachel Grabinski and Marc Koenig had been a twosome since Christmas. Though Abby was concerned about how the smooth-talking investment guru treated her friend, for Rachel’s sake, she and Liz had tried to like him.

Nell, on the other hand, had absolutely no use for the man. Abby wondered whether her friend’s attitude had anything to do with Marc having made a play for her while he was still married.

“No surprise there.” Liz kept her voice equally low. “They’re always together.”

Abby sincerely hoped things weren’t heating up between the two. After her parents were killed in a car accident when she was eighteen, Rachel had devoted herself to raising her siblings.

Only in the last two years, once the last sibling graduated from high school, had she been able to live her own life. If Marc supported her dreams, that would be one thing. But he appeared to be one who liked calling the shots.

“If she marries him, it will be the biggest mistake of her life.” Nell’s voice rang with conviction.

“You know something.” Abby gripped her arm. “Tell me.”

“I know lots of things.” Nell offered a tight smile. “Including that it’s past time for Hazel to mingle.”

Wiggling her fingers in farewell, Nell slipped away.

“What do you think she knows?” Two lines of worry furrowed Liz’s brow.

“You’re the reporter,” Abby reminded her as they watched Nell give the mayor’s younger brother a hug. “I’d say it’s time you do some digging and find out.”

+

Mingling was the name of the game.

Hazel went right.

Liz went left.

Abby went straight to the gorgeous black-and-chrome bar staffed by a bartender who looked barely old enough to drink legally. He offered Abby a polite smile. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

Ma’am? Surely she didn’t look that old.

Stifling a sigh, Abby studied the drink list. The party organizers had gone authentic. Reading names like “Gin Rickey,” “Bee’s Knees,” and “Southside” was like taking a trip back in time.

“I’ll take a Mary Pickford.” White rum with pineapple juice, maraschino liqueur, and grenadine seemed like the perfect choice for this out-of-the-ordinary evening.

The party was one where strange cocktails, feathers on chandeliers, and beaded headbands were de rigueur.

While Abby normally enjoyed socializing, right now she’d give anything to be sprawled on the floor at home playing a board game with Eva Grace. While waiting for her drink, the uneasy feeling that had dogged her earlier returned.

The bartender handed her a cocktail glass filled with crushed ice and liquid the color of ruby-red grapefruit. A cocktail stick skewered a maraschino cherry. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Once again, Abby tried not to cringe. She reminded herself the boy was simply being polite. “Are you having a nice evening so far?”

Surprise skittered across his handsome features. “Why, yes, I am. Thank you for asking.”

She took a sip, smiled. “This is good.”

“It’s very popular.” The boy/man offered her a perfunctory smile before turning to the next customer.

“There she is. The woman I was looking for.”

Though the voice came from behind her, Abby instantly recognized it as Leo Pomeroy’s. Deep and cultured, it radiated command. Leo, one of the partners in a successful family-owned real estate development and investment firm, was silver-spoon born. His brothers now ran the company while Leo ran the town. Last year, at thirty-four, he had become the youngest mayor in Hazel Green history.

Though widely admired for his business acumen, some considered him standoffish and arrogant. That had never been Abby’s impression.

She hurriedly pulled two crumpled bills from her bag and stuffed them into the tip jar before turning. “What is it you want from me now, Mr. Mayor?”

Her tone was teasing, her smile friendly. Last week she’d told Leo she was going to quit answering his calls because every time they spoke, she ended up chairing another committee.

“The committees are all filled.” Amusement ran through his voice. “I just wanted to introduce you to our new police chief. He’ll replace Harold on your committee. Over here.”

Leo made a come-on motion to a man weaving his way through the crowd. Abby shifted her focus, a smile of welcome on her lips.

Her smile wavered. Her heart gave a solid thump against her chest. She swallowed convulsively. Introductions were hardly necessary.

Not when the man standing in front of her was Jonah Rollins.