Death and a Dog. Fiona Grace

never believe who came into my store before closing time today,” Lacey said, as she gave the pasta a cursory stir in its pot of simmering water. The instructions said no stirring was required during the four minutes it took to boil, but that just felt too lazy, even for Lacey!

      “Not the Americans?” Gina asked, in a tone of distaste as she popped the tomato sauce in the microwave for the whole two minutes it required to heat.

      “Yes. The Americans.”

      Gina shuddered. “Oh dear. What did they want? Let me guess, Daisy wanted Buck to buy her an overpriced piece of jewelry?”

      Lacey strained the pasta in a sieve, then shared it out between two bowls. “That’s the thing. Daisy did want Buck to buy her something. The sextant.”

      “The sextant?” Gina asked, as she dumped the tomato sauce on top of the pasta, inelegantly. “As in the naval instrument? What would a woman like Daisy want a sextant for?”

      “Right? That’s exactly what I thought!” Lacey sprinkled parmesan shavings on top of her pasta mound.

      “Maybe she just picked it at random,” Gina mused, handing Lacey one of the two forks she’d retrieved from the cutlery drawer.

      “She was very specific about it,” Lacey continued. She carried her food and wine toward the table. “She wanted to buy it and of course I told her she’d have to come to the auction. I thought she’d drop it, but nope. She said she’d be there. So now I have to put up with the two of them again tomorrow. If only I’d put the damn thing away rather than leaving it out in plain view of the window over lunch!”

      She looked up as Gina took her seat opposite, to see that her neighbor was looking quite flustered all of a sudden. She didn’t seem to have anything to add to what Lacey had said, either, which was extremely uncharacteristic for the usually chatty woman.

      “What is it?” Lacey asked. “What’s wrong?”

      “Well, I was the one who convinced you that closing up shop for lunch wouldn’t hurt,” Gina mumbled. “But it did. Because it gave Daisy the chance to see the sextant! It’s my fault.”

      Lacey laughed. “Don’t be silly. Come on, let’s eat before this goes cold and all our effort goes to waste.”

      “Wait. We need one more thing.” Gina went over to her herb pots lined up on the window ledge and picked some leaves off one. “Fresh basil!” She placed a sprig on each of their bowls of badly presented, gloopy pasta. “Et voila!”

      For all its cheap cheerfulness, it was actually a very tasty meal. But then again, most convenience foods are filled with fat and sugar, so it would have to be!

      “Am I a decent enough substitute for Tom?” Gina asked as they ate and drank wine.

      “Tom who?” Lacey joked. “Oh, you just reminded me! Tom sort of challenged me to cook him a meal from scratch. Something native to New York. So I’m doing a cheesecake for dessert. My mom sent me a Marth Stewart recipe. Want to help me make it?”

      “Martha Stewart,” Gina said, shaking her head. “I have a much better recipe.”

      She went over to the cupboard and began rummaging around. Then she pulled out a battered cookbook.

      “This was my mother’s pride and joy,” she said, putting it on the table in front of Lacey. “She collected recipes for years. I have clippings in here going all the way back to the war.”

      “Amazing,” Lacey exclaimed. “But how come you never learned to cook, if you had an expert at home?”

      “Because,” Gina said, “I was far too busy helping my dad grow veggies in the garden. I was a proper tomboy. A daddy’s girl. One of those girls that liked to get my hands dirty.”

      “Well, baking can certainly do that,” Lacey said. “You should’ve seen Tom earlier. He was covered head to toe in flour.”

      Gina laughed. “I meant I liked to get muddy! To play with bugs. Climb trees. Fish. Cooking always seemed too feminine for my tastes.”

      “Better not tell Tom that,” Lacey chuckled. She looked down at the recipe book. “So do you want to help me make the cheesecake, or aren’t there enough worms to keep you interested?”

      “I’ll help,” Gina said. “We can use fresh eggs. Daphne and Delilah both laid this morning.”

      They cleaned up their dinner and got to work on the cheesecake, following Gina’s Mom’s recipe rather than Martha’s.

      “So, other than the Americans, are you excited about the auction tomorrow?” Gina asked as she crushed up biscuits in a bowl with a potato masher.

      “Excited. Nervous.” Lacey swilled the wine in her glass. “Mostly nervous. Knowing me, I won’t sleep a wink tonight worrying about it all.”

      “I have an idea,” Gina said then. “Once we’re done here, we should go and walk the dogs on the seafront. We can take the east route. You’ve not gone that way yet, have you? The sea air will tire you out and you’ll sleep like a baby, mark my words.”

      “That’s a good idea,” Lacey agreed. If she went home now, she’d only fret.

      As Lacey put the messy cheesecake in the fridge to chill, Gina hurried into the utility room to fetch them both rain macs. It was still quite chilly in the evenings, especially by the sea where it was more blustery.

      The huge waterproof, fisherman’s coat swamped Lacey. But she was glad for it when they stepped outside. It was a cool, clear, evening.

      They headed down the cliff steps. The beach was deserted and quite dark. It was kind of exhilarating being down here when it was so empty, Lacey thought. It felt like they were the only people in the world.

      They headed toward the sea, then turned to follow the easterly direction that Lacey hadn’t had a chance yet to explore. It was fun to explore somewhere new. Being in a small town like Wilfordshire sometimes felt a little stifling.

      “Hey, what’s that?” Lacey asked, peering across the water at what appeared to be the silhouette of a building on an island.

      “Medieval ruins,” Gina said. “At low tide there’s a sandbar you can walk along to reach them. Definitely worth a poke around if you can be bothered to get up that early.”

      “What time is low tide?” Lacey asked.

      “Five a.m.”

      “Ouch. That’s probably a bit too early for me.”

      “You can also get there by boat, of course,” Gina explained. “If you know someone who actually owns one. But if you get stuck over there, you have to call out the volunteer lifeboat and those lads don’t appreciate using their resources on clueless folk, mark my words! I’ve done it before and got quite a stern talking to. Luckily my gift of the gab had them all chuckling by the time we reached shore, and we’re all on good terms now.”

      Chester began to strain on his leash, as if trying to get to the island.

      “I think he knows it,” Lacey said.

      “Maybe his old owners used to walk him over there?” Gina suggested.

      Chester barked as if in confirmation.

      Lacey bent down and ruffled his fur. It had been a while since she’d really thought about Chester’s old owners, and how unsettling it must have been for him to lose them so suddenly.

      “How about I take you there one day?” she asked him. “I’ll wake up early, just for you.”

      With an excited wag of the tail, Chester tipped his head back and barked at the sky.

*

      Just as she’d predicted, Lacey struggled to sleep that night. So much for the sea air tiring her out. There was just too much swirling around her mind for her to switch off; from the Crag Cottage sale meeting with Ivan, to the auction, there was just too much to think about. And while she was excited about the auction tomorrow, she was also nervous.