Everyone searched their tables and their glasses, but the rest just appeared to contain Prosecco and orange juice.

  “I need another cup of coffee,” Emmeline announced, walking over to the buffet table and grabbing a mug. As she poured a cup of coffee, her hand shook a little bit, sloshing a bit of dark liquid on the table. “I’m so sorry, Natalie,” she said. “I shake a little when I’m upset.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, heading over to the buffet table and grabbing a napkin. I mopped up the spill and went to throw the soiled napkin into the trash, then sucked in my breath. Half-hidden by crumpled napkins was the top of a blue plastic bag labeled MIXED NUTS.

  7

  “Who had mixed nuts?” I asked, looking around the room.

  “I… I had some in my room,” Pippa said. “But I didn’t bring them down.”

  “There’s a bag in the trash,” I said.

  “Are there peanuts in it?” Mercedes asked from next to Justine’s prone form.

  “There are,” I said, without needing to look at the label; I recognized the bag, and knew peanuts were the main ingredient. “Is she still with us?” I asked.

  “Her heart is beating, but I’m afraid we’re going to lose her soon. Are you sure there’s not an EpiPen in her purse? You’re supposed do a second dose if the first doesn’t work. She always carries one.”

  We pawed through her bag again, but there was no sign of an EpiPen. Mercedes squinted out the window toward the blue water. “How long does it take emergency services to get here, anyway?”

  “Depends on whether they come by helicopter or boat,” I said, “but either way, it’s not as fast as I’d like.”

  “I’ll ask,” Gwen said, but the dispatcher couldn’t give an answer.

  “I don’t think they’re going to get here as fast as Justine needs,” Mercedes said, slumping against the wall. “This was such a terrible idea,” she said. “Why did I invite her here?”

  “You were trying to build a bridge,” Justine’s friend Phoebe said kindly. Beside her, Justine’s other friend Mary nodded; for the first time since I’d met them, I saw softness in their eyes as they looked at Justine’s daughter-in-law, who was wiping tears from her own eyes.

  The sound of a boat engine thrummed outside a moment later. I looked outside to see a Coast Guard boat heading toward the Gray Whale Inn’s dock, but I was afraid it was too late.

  “She’s not breathing,” Mercedes said.

  “The paramedics are here,” I reassured her. “I’ll go meet them.”

  John emerged from his workshop as I pushed through the back door of the inn. He looked down at the dock, shading his eyes from the sun. “What’s going on?”

  “One of the guests had an allergic reaction,” I explained, and he joined me as I hurried down to the dock. John helped them tie up as the paramedics leaped off the boat and followed me up the path to the inn.

  “She’s allergic to peanuts and had a reaction,” I said. “She’s not breathing.”

  “Do you have an EpiPen?”

  “We gave her one injection,” I said.

  “How long ago?”

  “Ten minutes,” I estimated.

  “We’ll give her another one,” he said.

  The dining room quickly became a hive of activity as the EMTs went to work. They administered another EpiPen shot, then set to work trying to revive her. Mercedes watched, hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face, while the rest of us gathered around the edge of the room, not sure what to do. I looked down at the case of beautifully decorated eggs. It seemed like days ago that we’d been admiring the beautiful colors and designs.

  “Oh, Justine,” Mercedes moaned. “I’m so, so sorry this happened.”

  Phoebe went over to the younger woman and put her arm around her. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault,” she said. “If I hadn’t invited her here…”

  “It’s not your fault,” Phoebe said firmly.

  “Poor thing,” Agnes murmured, looking at Justine; she’d materialized at my side at some point during the proceedings. “She seems like a very unhappy person.”

  “She is,” Phoebe confirmed from my other side, where she was still comforting Mercedes. “We’re friends, but I must admit, she’s always been quick to find fault and thought everyone was out to get her.”

  “How did you meet Justine?” I asked, well aware that someone in this room had put that peanut into Justine’s glass… and wondering why Phoebe was friends with someone she’d just admitted was unlikeable.

  “We’re all on the Windabay Homeowners’ Association,” Phoebe said. “We’re not very popular in the neighborhood, as you can imagine,” she said, glancing toward Kayla, “so we just kind of stick together.”

  “What was Justine talking about, with Kayla following the rules?” I asked, looking at the younger woman, who was clustered with her own posse near the windows.

  “Justine is in with the architectural committee,” Phoebe said. “New people keep moving into Windabay and trying to change things, often without asking. Justine doesn’t like change.”

  “Including a new daughter-in-law, I gather.” Mercedes had drifted over toward Justine again, and had put her cell phone to her ear, no doubt calling her husband to tell him the news.

  “Aidan is her only son, and nobody on this planet would ever be good enough for him,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “Poor Mercedes. Aidan really is in love with her, and I can see why; she is very sweet, even if Justine doesn’t see it.”

  I looked over at Justine, whose face was contorted in a horrible way. “How is she?” I asked the EMT who was doing chest compressions.

  “She’s still not breathing,” the EMT said, winded from the effort of trying to revive her. “We’re going to keep working on her while we take her in.”

  “Can I go with her?” Mercedes asked.

  “Are you family?”

  “She’s my mother-in-law,” Mercedes said.

  “Come along, then,” he said, and Mercedes headed out to the dock as the rest of us looked on. I watched the young woman follow her mother-in-law’s stretcher, her head bowed. My heart hurt for her; it was so sad that a weekend that was supposed to be about healing had turned out to be anything but.

  8

  Agnes continued the workshop after the coast guard left, but the mood in the room was somber, and Justine’s empty chair was like an accusing eye. I had given my phone number to Mercedes to let us know how Justine was doing, but hadn’t heard anything yet, and had a bad feeling. What should I do about the police? I’d told the EMTs that Justine was allergic to peanuts and that there’d been a piece in her drink, but they had been so focused on keeping Justine alive they hadn’t said anything about the police.

  We had all finished decorating our eggs and were about to dye them John came in through the back door.

  I looked up, relieved to see him, then pushed my chair back and stood up. Without speaking, we both walked into the kitchen; I was relieved when the door to the dining room swung shut behind me.

  “Did the paramedics have anyone come out to talk to the women at the workshop?” he asked when I told him I’d found a peanut at the bottom of Justine’s glass… and a nut bag in the trash can.

  “No,” I said. “And then I just kind of tried to make everything as normal as possible, considering one of the women was hauled out on a stretcher.”

  “Any word from Mercedes on how she’s doing?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. As I spoke, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a Maine number I didn’t recognize, and I felt myself tense up as I answered.

  It was Mercedes, from the hospital.

  “She’s gone,” she said in a hoarse voice. “She didn’t make it.” She stifled a sob. “How am I going to tell my husband?”

  “We’ll deal with that later,” I said, looking at John and shaking my head. He rubbed his chin and then reached for his own phone as I talked to Mercedes. “Did you tell the folks at the hospital that we found a peanut in her glass?”

  “Not that it was in her glass, just that she had a peanut allergy. They tried everything… it just happened too fast.” She sobbed. “I just realized. I don’t even know… I need somewhere to stay tonight.. how do I get back to the inn?”

  “The mail boat runs regularly,” I said. “Or John and I can take a skiff to the mainland and pick you up in the car we keep on the mainland, if you’re coming back later. Whichever feels better.”

  “I think I’d rather take the boat,” she said. “I think I need a little time alone. To process.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But let me know if you change your mind. And we’re here if you need anything at all.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I… I guess I’d better call Aidan.”

  “Why don’t you wait till you get back,” I said. “We can keep you company.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “All right, I guess.” She sounded like a little girl.

  “We’ll be down to meet you at the next mail boat unless you change your mind. I’ll keep my phone on,” I told her.

  “Thanks, Natalie.”

  “Of course,” I said. “And I’m so sorry.”

  As I hung up, I could tell John was talking with the mainland police. He was the island deputy, and now that Justine was gone, we likely had a murder on our hands.

  “They’re on their way,” he said when he hung up a moment later.

  “Lovely,” I said. “At least everybody who’s not from the island’s staying at the inn… but this isn’t exactly the kind of community relations I wanted from this weekend.”

  “We’ll get through it,” he said, walking over and giving me a big, woodsy-scented hug. “Is the workshop over?”

  “No,” I said. “We’re about to dye the eggs.”

  “Why don’t you go finish up, take your mind off things.”

  I snorted. “Right.”

  “It’s better than sitting in here stewing,” he pointed out, and I had to agree with him.

  9

  I slipped back into the dining room just as everyone was finishing dyeing their eggs. I didn’t want to disturb everyone with the bad news just yet. But as it turned out, I didn’t really have a choice.

  “How is she?” Agnes asked, interrupting her talk of dyeing methods.

  “Mercedes called a moment ago. She didn’t make it,” I said.

  There was a collective intake of breath. “Oh, Justine,” Mary said. “She always said she’d end up choking on a peanut one day, but I never expected it to actually happen.” Her face, along with Phoebe’s, was grim. “She was such a force of nature; it’s hard to believe she’s gone.”

  “Poor woman,” Agnes said, in a voice oddly devoid of emotion. Then again, she had just met Justine.

  Or had she? I remembered Justine’s certainty that she and Agnes had met. I eyed the instructor through a new lens; had she had something to do with what had happened to Justine?

  “Who here knew she was allergic to peanuts?” Emmeline asked, her dark eyes bright as always.

  “Well, we did, of course,” Phoebe and Mary said.

  “And I did,” I said. “She made no secret of it; I cleared the kitchen of peanut products before she arrived. She was very careful. It’s a shame Pippa didn’t know.”

  Agnes spoke from the front of the room before we could say anything else. “You can either be finished here, or if you’d like to add a layer of pattern, you can put another set of designs on with wax and then dye them again,” she said.

  Everyone decided that was the way to go, but the eggs needed to dry first. As I gazed at the list of suggested designs, wondering what to add next, I decided it would be best not to let anyone know the police were coming just yet.

  I checked my egg, which had turned a lovely spring green, and decided on a floral pattern for my next addition. As we waited for the eggs to finish drying so we could decorate them further, Phoebe said to Agnes, “Justine said she knew you, but I can’t figure out how.”

  “Maybe we ran into each other in Ellsworth,” Agnes said with a slight shrug.

  “Where do you live, again?”

  “Near the center of town,” Agnes said. “In an old house. You?”

  “We’re in one of the newer subdivisions,” Phoebe said.

  “The gated one?” Agnes asked.

  “Windabay? Yes,” Phoebe said. “You know it?”

  “I remember when they were rezoning that area,” she said. “There used to be a farm I liked to go to.” She gave Phoebe a sad smile. “All the beautiful places are just eaten up by big houses these days, aren’t they?”

  Phoebe stiffened. “We bring value to the area,” she said. “Windabay has done a lot for property values.”

  “And taxes,” Agnes said. “Many of my neighbors are having to leave their homes; they can’t afford to stay.”

  “I’m sure they made plenty of money when they sold,” Phoebe said.

  “Yes, but where will they go?” Agnes said sadly. “My neighborhood is becoming short-term rentals. Soon, I’ll be the only long-term resident on my street.”

  “That’s why we forbid those in Windabay,” Phoebe said in a self-righteous tone.

  “Didn’t Justine try to talk you into going in with her to buy a few houses?” Mary asked Phoebe. “Just a year or two ago? For summer rentals?”

  “I don’t remember,” Phoebe said, looking away unconvincingly. “Anyway,” she said. “We should probably finish up here. I think I need to go lie down.”

  “Yes,” Agnes said, looking at me. “It may be time for the hot towels so we can finish.”

  “I think we need to stay here,” I said.

  Kayla’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “The police are coming to ask us a few questions,” I informed them.

  Phoebe grimaced. “Why would the police be involved? It was clearly an accident, what happened.”

  “It’s just a formality,” I said, not entirely truthfully.

  “Hmm,” Emmeline said; as usual, she’d been watching everything with her sharp eyes. “Well, then. Maybe I’ll put another set of designs on mine. It’ll help pass the time, anyway.”

  “So we’re under house arrest?” Kayla asked, pulling her chin back and looking down her nose at me.

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said. “Like I said, it’s just a formality.”

  “I should have brought more Prosecco,” Kayla said, upending the bottle over her glass and taking a swig. She and her friends began conferring in low, agitated voices.

  “Let’s finish the workshop up while we’re waiting,” I said, hoping to get everyone doing something with their hands. I turned to Agnes. “Is this dry enough to work with?” I asked, pointing to my green egg.

  “It is,” she said. “I have to be back to pick up my dogs this evening. Will they be done before the last mail boat, do you think?”

  “If worse comes to worst, we can take you over to the mainland in one of our skiffs,” I offered.

  “Oh. Okay,” she said, but she didn’t look like it was okay.

  “I promise we’ll get you back,” I said. “Now… what should I do with this egg?” I asked, making yet another effort to get everyone’s mind off what had happened a little while ago. I thought again about the mixed nuts bag in the trash… and looked around the room, wondering who had slipped that peanut into Justine’s drink.

  And why.

  10

  “That was one heck of a day,” John said when we finally sat down at the kitchen table together hours later.

  “I know,” I said, leaning back in my chair in the kitchen and petting Biscuit, who had jumped up into my lap. My buttery yellow kitchen was warm and comforting after the day’s events; while John put together a plate of cheese and cold cuts for us, I’d made a batch of chocolate muffins and popped them into the oven, where they were now perfuming the air with a comforting chocolatey scent. The sun was almost down over Mount Desert Island, and a few last shafts of light gilded the rounded mountains and made the trees outside take on a golden hue. I took a sip of the sauvignon blanc John had poured for us and stabbed a piece of cheddar. “I’m so glad everyone decided to go out for dinner; baking is therapeutic, but I really didn’t want to cook a meal.”

  “I would have taken care of it,” John assured me.

  “You’re the best,” I said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand.

  “How’s Gwen doing?” Ever since she’d announced her pregnancy, John had been very protective of her, and concerned for the baby’s health. It made me wonder if he might want children of his own… something we probably needed to revisit. But not today.

  “She was upset, of course, but she seemed okay. She and Adam are going to come over for dinner tomorrow,” I said.

  “It’s hard to believe that in two weeks, we’re going to have a new niece or nephew.”

  “I know,” I said, feeling a warm glow that was welcome after the trauma of Justine’s death. I kept thinking about her falling to the floor, and her labored breathing. I shuddered a little at the memory of her face as she struggled for oxygen. “What’s the take from the detective?” I asked.

  “I don’t know that she’s made a determination yet,” he replied, but I could tell by the furrow between his sandy eyebrows that he was concerned that what had happened that afternoon in the dining room was no accident. “I’ll call tomorrow morning for an update. How’s Mercedes doing?”

  “She’s shaken, of course,” I said. I’d picked her up from the mail boat a few hours ago and sat with her while she shared the news with her husband, Aidan, who was still in California. He was on his way to the inn and would be here the next day; in the meantime, Phoebe and Mary had taken over keeping Mercedes company, whisking her off to Spurrell’s Lobster Pound for dinner. “I would be, too. I just keep thinking it can’t have been an accident. Justine was absolutely adamant about peanuts… she didn’t want me to even have any in the inn. And her daughter-in-law said she kept an EpiPen with her at all times, but it wasn’t in her bag.”

 

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