Page 62 of Business or Pleasure

In a small New England town, a cook is poisoned when someone tampers with his world-famous cream cheese. Bagel puns abound.

Overdue and Underground by Toya LeGrand

A librarian finds a dead body in her library basement, a nearby open book containing clues to the murder, which she solves with the help of a charming patron.

Berried Alive by Natalie Chang

A pastry chef investigates a murder at her small town’s annual strawberry festival. Bonus jam recipes included.

Murder, She Wrote starring the one and only Angela Lansbury

I’m cheating a little here because it’s a TV show, but you know what, there was a spin-off book series, and the protagonist is a mystery writer, so I say it counts. Jessica Fletcher is an icon and I will hear no arguments against her.

chapter

seventeen

RENO, NV

I thought it would be warmer.”

“Common misconception about Reno,” Finn says as we get out of the car in front of his mom’s house. I pull my jacket tighter. “It’s not Vegas. We’re in the desert right up against the Sierra Nevadas. Summers are scorching and winters are cold and snowy.” He peeks down at my feet. “Cactus socks today?”

“I wanted to be on theme.”

Noemie stayed for a couple more days, working remote, through the VIP screening and another panel. Yesterday afternoon, I said goodbye to her before we flew to Nevada, and Finn humored her by taking no fewer than a thousand selfies and then made her the happiest I’ve ever seen by giving her a ticket to December’s reunion taping.

“Noemie’s really great,” he said this morning on the plane. “I can see why you two are close.”

“She was definitely more excited to see you than me. But I forgive you.”

A pause, and then he asked: “You told her, didn’t you?” The look I gave him must have communicated my shock. “I’m not mad,” he clarified, holding up a hand. “I kind of figured you would.”

“She won’t say a word. I swear to god.”

“I trust you,” he said, and for some reason, those three words sent an odd shiver up my spine. We haven’t hooked up since Memphis, and I’m no longer sure whether I’m missing it or grateful for the distance. Probably both.

After the conversation with Noemie, I’ve decided to try my best to forget Finn’s drugged confession. It’s simply safer for all of us.

I see the Chihuahuas first, a whole pack of them on the front porch, as a middle-aged woman with chin-length dark hair approaches the car.

“Finnegan!” she calls, the dogs trotting along behind her, tails going wild, a tornado of black and white and tan.

Finn scoops up one of the dogs as he gives his mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Mom, hi. How many did you adopt since I last saw you?”

She makes an exaggerated pout. “Only one,” she says before stage-whispering to me, “Two.”

A white one is at my heels, and I bend down to give him some love. “This is, um, a lot of dogs,” I say stupidly.

“They’re all rescues,” Finn’s mom says. “I started with one, and then I thought it might be nice if she had someone to play with and, well, it kind of spiraled from there. Now I can’t imagine life without them.” She picks up two of them. “Isn’t that right? You manipulated me with your tiny noses and perfect little paws.” Then she extends a hand to me. “Sondra. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Chandler. Thanks so much for having us.”

Finn is scratching his dog under the chin, dropping kisses onto its head. “That’s it. I’m really not going back to LA this time.”

“Tell me that again when they wake you up at six in the morning for breakfast.” Sondra fusses with his hair for a moment. “Did you pay someone to make it look like this?”

“Yes. Probably too much,” he says, and then to me: “She gave me bowl cuts at home for a solid two years, so I can’t fully trust her opinion.”

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