One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

wanted to be.
     
    “I know, right?” China glanced quickly at Mom, who was on the other side of the shop, comparing skeins of neon purple yarn. Only God knew what she planned to knit with that.
     
    “I heard that,” Mom said mildly. “Be nice.”
     
    China and I exchanged glances. Had we really thought we could get away with saying anything negative about our siblings? Mom had the ears of a desert fox.
     
    I frowned at China. “How do you remember all that stuff about Savannah and Angelica?”
     
    “I was younger than you two so I hung on your everyword.” She held up her hand instantly. “And no, I don’t do that anymore.”
     
    “Too bad,” I said, grinning.
     
    “Anyway, I remember everything Savannah used to say when she’d come home from the culinary school. I thought being a chef would be the most exciting thing ever. I mean, food everywhere, right? I was captivated by everything she told us about her training.”
     
    “Huh. I just tried my best to ignore her.”
     
    “Like we all do with London,” China whispered.
     
    I snorted and we both whipped around to see if Mom had heard. She didn’t brook any disparaging words uttered about her youngest and most darling daughter, London. After all, our little sister led a charmed life in nearby Calistoga with her gorgeous, wealthy doctor-cum-oenologist husband and twin babies.
     
    A bell tinkled prettily to alert China that the door to the shop had opened. We turned and saw Crystal and Melody Byers, two sisters who’d gone to high school with us.
     
    “Yoo-hoo, China,” Crystal said, as she rushed over to hug my sister, then me. “Brooklyn, it’s so good to see you. We saw you coming in here and thought we’d stop in to say hello.”
     
    “Hey, Crystal,” I said, smiling. “How are you?”
     
    Mom walked over to greet the sisters, then said, “You girls look so cheery today. Melody, that color is perfect on you.”
     
    Melody preened in her golden yellow jumpsuit. It was a good color for her blond hair and lightly tanned skin, but lately when I saw a jumpsuit, it reminded me of a prison uniform. If hers were slightly more orange, she would fit right in at the county jail.
     
    Crystal was my age and we’d been in the same classes all through grammar and high school. Melody was a year younger. Both were pretty, blue-eyed blondes, tall and big-boned, who were strong from years of working in their parents’ orchards, where they grew olives, walnuts, and apples. Thanks to the two Byers sisters, our highschool women’s basketball and baseball teams had held the state championship for five years running. The sisters were popular with the girls at school, but most of the boys were afraid of them, probably because the two girls could beat them at almost any sport.
     
    “What are you ladies up to today?” Mom asked with a smile. “Shopping?”
     
    “We’re always up for shopping,” Melody said, and everybody laughed.
     
    “We’re in town on business,” Crystal said, efficiently straightening the jacket of her perky blue seersucker suit. “Just stopped by the chamber of commerce to pick up our very own street-fair permit.”
     
    I knew they both worked in their parents’ booth at all the different street fairs and farmers’ markets in the county. They sold their apples and olives and walnuts, along with all sorts of oils and soaps they made on their farm.
     
    “Are you setting up shop on your own?” I asked.
     
    “Yes.” Melody could barely contain her excitement. “We found this fabulous new line of fruit dehydrators we’ll be demonstrating and selling.”
     
    “That’s wonderful,” Mom said. “Will you be selling the dried fruit, as well?”
     
    “Oh, you mean to eat? That’s a great idea, Mrs. Wainwright,” Crystal said. She looked at Melody with her mouth wide-open. “OMG, why didn’t we think of that?”
     
    “LOL, I don’t know,” Melody said, laughing at their silliness. She gazed back at us. “Crystal uses the dried fruit to make jewelry. She’s a genius. Show them.”
     
    Crystal pulled back her hair and flicked her earring, a shiny, round red disk hanging from a silver post. “Don’t you love it?”
     
    Curious, I looked closer at the glittering red circle. China leaned in next to me. “What is that?”
     
    “It’s a strawberry slice,” Crystal said gaily. “I dry them and shellac them and turn them into earrings.”
     
    China and I exchanged glances.