A Carol for a Corpse Read Free

Falls is becoming a vacation destination.”
    “Phooey,” Meg said rudely. “I don’t see what’s good about more traffic and higher real estate prices. And you know what happens when you get tons of people moving in—more crime, that’s what. It puts a huge burden on town services, too.”
    “Growth’s not all beer and skittles,” Mark admitted. “You two hear about the vandalism?”
    “If you’re talking about the punctured inflatable Santa Clauses on the courthouse lawn, I hardly think that rises to the description of vandalism,” Quill said glumly. “And we’re losing sight of why we’re sitting here. We’re sitting here so that Meg can sign Kingsfield’s leasing agreement and I can stop having nightmares about losing everything we’ve worked for all these years.”
    “So, the economy’s been good for everyone except us,” Meg said bluntly. “Why?”
    Quill shook her head. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
    “You’ve talked to John Raintree?” Mark asked in a kindly way. John had been their business manager in palmier days.
    “Of course I have. He says that boutique businesses like ours can be victims of faddism.”
    “Faddism,” Meg repeated.
    Quill threw her arms up in the air. “He meant that we’re not the trendy thing to do anymore. He thinks we need to reinvent ourselves. And that’s what this deal with Kingsfield is going to do. Help us reinvent ourselves.”
    “Oh, fine,” Meg said sarcastically. “We’re over the hill at what—you’re thirty-six? And me at thirty-two?”
    Quill sighed. It felt as if the sigh came from the soles of her feet. “I tried to tell you what was going on, Meg, but did you want to hear about it? No, you didn’t.”
    “That’s not fair,” Meg said.
    Quill bit her lip. “No,” she said after a moment. “It isn’t fair. And I didn’t tell you as much as I should have about the financial problems because you get so upset.” She blinked back a rush of tears. “Sorry. The stress is definitely getting to me. Weepiness isn’t like me at all. Anyhow, you’re the star attraction at the Inn, Meg. It’s best that you’re left alone to do what you do best. The money stuff is my job.”
    “That’s fair,” Meg admitted with what would have been sublime egotism if it hadn’t been true. She was the best chef around for three hundred miles and one of the five best in the entire state of New York. She reached over and briefly clasped Quill’s hand. “I’m sorry I yelled ‘Merry flippin’ Christmas’ at Mark. It’s not his fault. And I’m sorry I shouted at you, too. Well, pretty sorry.”
    Quill took a deep, affronted breath.
    Mark rapped the surface of his desk with a gentle thump of his knuckles. “Ladies,” he said. “May we get back to whether or not Meg is going to sign this contract?”
    “No,” Meg said promptly, “I’m not.”
    Mark was unperturbed with this obduracy. “You haven’t looked at the considerable advantages of the Kingsfield offer. You’re looking at a splendid opportunity.”
    “We are, huh?” Meg said sulkily.
    Very few people other than Quill knew that this meant Meg was ready to be reasonable. But Mark was president of the largest bank in Hemlock Falls because he was a genius at picking up cues. He smiled at Meg and it was the smile of a man with the answers. A man with faith in the sisters’ ability to pull the Inn out of its slump and keep the business out of foreclosure.
    “A splendid opportunity,” Quill repeated. “See, Meg?”
    “That’s because he doesn’t have to put up with Lydia Kingsfield,” Meg said flatly. “I can’t believe you guys are asking me to do this.”
    Mark raised one eyebrow in Quill’s direction.
    “Lydia’s editor of L’Aperitif ,” Quill explained. “Kingsfield Publishing’s made the offer to lease the Inn to the magazine, but Lydia’s the person that thinks the Inn offers the best background for the magazine’s new TV show. She’s the one that made the