The Icing on the Corpse Read Free Page B

November. And captured her mother’s normally blasé heart at the same time.
    Stan stifled a sigh. “Hello,” she said, pasting on her best blankly pleasant face, a holdover from her corporate days, and trying not to wince as Falco pumped her hand a bit more enthusiastically than necessary.
    â€œKristan!” Patricia Connor bussed her cheek with a kiss. “Hello, dear. How exciting to have my daughter as the gift-giver!”
    That was a switch. When Stan had first started her business, her mother had brushed it off as nonsense and tried to encourage her right back into the dysfunction of corporate America. When she’d resisted, citing a much-needed rest from the cutthroat corporate world, Patricia had shifted gears and tried to push her into politics. Because that wasn’t cutthroat at all.
    â€œYes, it’s cool. I have to run, Mom. They’re about to get started. I’ll talk to you later,” she promised, and hurried off, relieved to see Jake up ahead. He stood with Frank Pappas, the builder working on Jake’s newest renovation project in town. Frank was doing most of the talking, and his hands moved in short, curt gestures in time with his lips. Jake listened, but he didn’t say a word. Stan hesitated for a second, then figured she had every reason in the world to interrupt. She was the groundhog gift-giver, for goodness’ sake.
    She walked up and tapped Jake on the shoulder. “This event is getting wacky,” she said. She smiled at Frank. “Hi.”
    Frank grunted.
    â€œThere you are.” Jake twined her fingers with his. “Frank, I’ll talk to you later.”
    Frank shrugged and walked away.
    â€œWhat was that about?” Stan asked.
    â€œNothing. We’d better hurry—you need a spot right near the guest of honor and the head groundhog.” Jake tugged her toward the crowd, in the opposite direction of where Frank had gone.
    â€œHead groundhog?” Stan repeated.
    He grinned. “You haven’t met the head groundhog?” He swung her hand as they walked. It fit nicely in his, she noticed, then felt like a silly sixteen-year-old again.
    â€œI haven’t. Do I know him?”
    He maneuvered her into the crowd so she had a front-row view of the outside podium, which had been set up on a platform at the southernmost edge of the library parking lot. He stood behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Stan leaned back against him, content. Despite the chill of the day, she already felt warmer. Jake pointed to where a tall groundhog was rounding up all the child-sized groundhogs. “There he is. It’s Michael Figaro. The undertaker.”
    The undertaker was dressed up as head groundhog? Stan covered up her giggle with a cough. “Did they find Helga?”
    Jake frowned. “Find her? Is she missing?”
    A shrill whistle pierced the air. All heads turned to the podium. Betty removed her fingers from her lips. “We’ll be starting momentarily. Please welcome Lilypad! And, Mrs. Abernathy.” She did a Vanna White wave in the direction of a woman who, from a distance, looked like the star of Mrs. Doubtfire. Mrs. Abernathy bowed to the crowd and set the pink carrier with its precious cargo next to the podium.
    â€œPerhaps Mr. Figaro will lead the groundhog children’s choir through a couple of songs, while we wait,” Betty suggested, then hurried from the podium before Mr. Figaro could protest. Stan watched as she made her way over to Char and Ray, spoke briefly to them, then continued walking. Sarah Oliver intercepted her en route. The two exchanged words; then Betty marched in the opposite direction toward the street. Sarah waited a moment, then ran after her. They crossed the street, disappearing inside the Frog Ledge Historical Museum.
    Jake followed her gaze. “What’s going on?” he asked.
    Stan repeated what she’d told Ray a few minutes ago.
    Jake glanced