Buried in Bargains (Good Buy Girls) (22 page)

Maggie’s Go-To Gift: Hot Chocolate for Two You will need (per gift):

1 pint-sized canning jar with lid (clean and dry)
1
/
2
cup sugar
1
/
2
cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1
/
2
cup powdered milk Pinch of salt

Crushed peppermint candy (optional for peppermint cocoa) Mini marshmallows

Layer sugar, cocoa, powdered milk, and salt in jar. Next layer peppermint (optional) and marshmallows. Seal the jar with the lid. Now decorate the jar with the ribbons and bows of your choice. Lastly, add a decorative tag with the instructions: Mix contents in a medium pot with 2
2
/
3
cups boiling water. Makes 2 servings.

Happy Holidays from the Good Buy Girls!

“More flowers?” Ginger Lancaster asked as she walked into My Sister’s Closet, her best friend’s secondhand store, behind Henry Dawson, the local florist. Joanne Claramotta and Claire Freemont followed right behind her.

The women belonged to a self-named group called the Good Buy Girls. They were friends who were all about bargain hunting and thrift, and since Maggie had opened her shop, it had become the hub of their operation and their unofficial meeting place.

“Yep, she’s got another one,” Henry said. “Looks like someone’s got quite the admirer.”

For the past three days, Henry had delivered a single red rose to Maggie Gerber with a card with one word on it. Maggie took the rose from Henry and felt her face grow warm. She was embarrassed but also a bit giddy from the attention.

“Thank you so much,” she said. She tried to offer him a tip but he waved her away.

“You keep your money, Maggie,” he said. “I’ve been paid more than enough.”

Maggie gave him a chagrinned look and his wrinkled, old face split into a smile that showed off his dentures.

“Well, don’t hold back,” Joanne said. “What’s the word of the day?”

Maggie put the red rose in a vase with two others and opened the small card. The word
You
was scrawled in a blocky script in a black felt-tip pen. She knew that handwriting. It belonged to her boyfriend, Sam Collins, who happened to be the police chief of St. Stanley, their small Virginia town. Of course when she had questioned him the previous two days, he had denied all knowledge of any flowers or cards.

When put together in order the cards read,
Maggie, Will You.

“Squee!” Joanne let out a squeal. Her long brown ponytail swung back and forth as she bounced up and down on her feet.

“That is just the most romantic gesture ever,” Claire sighed. She pushed her black rectangular glasses up on her nose. “I wonder what he’s going to ask you.”

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “But I’m betting I’ll see you tomorrow and every day right up until Valentine’s Day.”

Maggie and the others waved to him as he left the shop. Ginger turned back to face Maggie and rested her chin on her hand as she leaned on the counter and studied the cards.

“So, what do you think he’s going to ask you?” Her teeth flashed white against her brown skin and her dark eyes gleamed with delight.

“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I keep asking him, but he keeps denying that it’s him.”

Ginger’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think it’s someone else?”

“No,” Maggie said. “I recognize the handwriting.”

“Don’t freak out on me,” Claire said. “But do you think he’s going to propose?”

“No!” Maggie said. “No, no, no.”

“Well, don’t beat around the bush,” Ginger said. “Tell us how you feel.”

“We’ve only been dating for two months, not even, a proposal would be . . .”

“Romantic?” Joanne sighed and the others did, too.

“I was thinking premature,” Maggie said. She frowned at them. “Besides, logically speaking it doesn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Ginger asked.

Maggie leaned toward the cards and a hank of her auburn hair fell over her face. She tucked it behind her ear as she tapped the counter with her index finger.

“There are four more days to Valentine’s Day,” she said. “So if he did have a rose and a card delivered every day then a proposal really wouldn’t work because
marry
and
me
would only be two more days.”

“Unless he’s planning something even more spectacular for the next two days,” Joanne said. She started jumping up and down again and Ginger put an arm around her.

“Settle down girl,” she said. “You are going to jiggle that baby right out.”

Joanne instantly put her hands on her belly and her eyes grew wide. “You think so?”

“No,” Ginger said as she gave her a half hug. “I’m just teasing.”

“How long now?” Claire asked.

“I’m eight months give or take a few days,” Joanne said. “My OB says it could be anytime if the baby decides to come early.”

“A baby,” Maggie sighed. “It seems like ages since I’ve held a newborn.”

“So, if you and Sam do get married, will you have another baby?” Claire asked.

“I . . . uh . . . huh?” Maggie stammered. “Sorry, I think I just swallowed my tongue.”

Ginger hooted with laughter. “You could, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re still young enough,” Joanne said. “Just think, our babies would be close enough in age to play together.”

“Aw,” Claire said. “That would be so cute.”

Maggie glanced at Claire. “Don’t you start. You and Pete could get married and have kid, too, you know.”

Claire shook her head. “No, that’s not in the cards for me. I knew long ago that I was not mother material. My cat, Mr. Tumnus, is all the dependent I can handle, thank you very much.”

“Is Pete okay with that?” Joanne asked.

“Yes,” Claire said. “We had a long frank talk when we first started dating and we both decided that parenting was not our calling, so it looks like it’s all on Maggie and you, unless of course Ginger wants to try again for a girl.”

“Oh, gracious, no,” Ginger said. “Four boys are all I can handle, besides after Dante came along, I had them take out all of my plumbing since it had begun to collapse. So, it’s just Maggie then.”

Maggie put a hand to her forehead as a sudden attack of woozy hit her like a freight train. Did Sam want kids? She had no idea. They’d never discussed it.

The bells on the front door jangled and Maggie glanced up, willing someone, anyone to arrive and save her from this conversation.

The woman who arrived was not her first or even her last pick but times being desperate she decided not to quibble.

“Summer Phillips,” Maggie cried. She came around the counter and greeted the woman who had been her lifelong nemesis with a wide warm smile. “Come in, how are you, dear?”

Summer froze in mid-step. She looked at Maggie as if she was worried that she was ill with something that could be contagious and deadly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Summer asked. She tossed her long, bottle-bleached hair over her shoulder and held out a well-manicured hand to ward Maggie off.

“Not a thing,” Maggie lied. “I’m just being neighborly. What can I do for you, Summer?”

“She’s panicking,” Ginger whispered to Claire and Joanne, and Maggie heard them all giggle.

“Nothing,” Summer said. “I don’t want anything from you.”

A woman nudged into the shop behind Summer. She had the same pretty face as Summer, with an upturned nose and prominent cheekbones, but she was obviously older with very fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was cut in a dark brown bob and it swung about her face in graceful sweeps as she looked Maggie up and down.

“Mom, this is Maggie Gerber,” Summer said. She stood aside and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Your mother?” Maggie asked. She glanced at the woman still scrutinizing her. Yes, she vaguely remembered Summer’s mother, Blair Phillips, from their high school days but she knew Blair had been married at least three times since then and she had no idea what her name was now.

Blair’s lips pursed to the side and her eyes narrowed. Then she shook her head. “No, no, I refuse to believe it. There is absolutely no way that Sam Collins threw you over for
this
.”