Chapter 14: Old Frenemy

The front door bells jingled, distracting me from grilling Simon about what happened. I half turned before my gut lurched and everything about my day turned to ash and gray. I'd done my best to avoid the stunning ice blonde in the perfect yellow suit who simpered on her clicky clacking high heels into the flower shop with her giant designer glasses perched on the end of her pointed nose and so far I'd succeeded. Just the odd chance glance across a crowded street or over the windshield of her little red convertible. But this was the first time since I moved home I actually came face to face with the one person in Reading I would gladly have trade places with Pete Wilkins.

If the way she pulled down her glasses with overly pointed and painted manicure nails and glared at me was any indication, she was about as happy to see me as I was her. Vivian French-her name as pretentious as the rest of her-smiled her reptile greeting with dead blue eyes and slowed her approach to a challenging strut, cute little bag bouncing over her forearm while she looked me up and down.

I hadn't really worried about my looks despite my envy of Daisy's beauty. It's never been something I took into much consideration. I knew I had nice hair, thick and wavy and that deep red my friends in New York always accused me came from a bottle despite being natural. And my green eyes had that clarity I knew a lot of people wore contacts for. I'd always had clear skin, even as a teen, a great figure despite a terrible diet and irregular exercise and the kind of height that allowed me to feel unintimidated by the majority of men thanks to my dad. But there was something about the way my old rival, the former high school cheer squad leader/homecoming queen/overall pain in my younger ass looked at me-judged me-that made me forget former possible murder victims and consider new ones.

"Why, Fanny Fleming." Oh my God, if one more person called me Fanny I was honestly going to lose my mind. I knew Vivian used it on purpose, just like Robert did. They'd been friends in high school, after all, or at least co-conspirators against my happiness. Part of the reason I couldn't wait to cut and run ten years ago. "My word and stars. I heard you were home. And under investigation for murder, no less." She was loving this, I could tell, how she cocked her hip to one side, slim body posing inside her expensive suit. Personally I thought that shade of yellow made her look sallow and gave her bleached hair a straw like appearance.

"Vivs," I said, just as sweet, the tightening around her eyes barely reaching the line between them, a sure sign of work done. I'd seen enough Botox injections in my friends to know it when it glared me in the face. "Nice suit."

Funny how easy it was to fall back into old ways of being and despising. Honestly, I was a grown up wasn't I? And yet, nope, not at all. I was eighteen again and couldn't stand the sight of the precious bitch who pursed her pink lips at me.

"I've been meaning to stop in," she said. "To Petunia's." The pug made a soft grumbling sound like she'd rather not. Vivian glanced down with a faint frown of disgust before her smile returned, shining white teeth a mouthful of Chicklets no one would ever believe were real.

"Still living in Reading, are you?" I leaned one elbow on the counter, too wrapped up in this encounter to care at the moment Simon had vanished, though Terri continued to watch, eyes massive, mouth hanging slightly open as if unsure exactly what was going on. Poor thing. She clearly didn't yet get the subtleties of Vivian French's layers of gross.

Another hit, Fee 2, Vivs whatever, who cared. "I've taken over Daddy's business," she said, all airs and pomposity. "French's Handmade Bakery is now in four states."

Well la de da. I hated the snake of jealousy that bit deep inside me. No way she was allowed to be more successful than me. Of course, she had Daddy's business and a head start, so there.

"I'm surprised to hear you came back from New York." Fishing, was she? "That handsome boyfriend of yours, the lawyer. What's his name?"

How the hell did she know about Ryan? "It's over," I growled.

Fake concern met sisterly caring as she touched my arm with the barest caress meant to mean nothing while her sharp blue eyes crinkled as much as they could in her delight. The faintest rims of contact lenses told me the false intensity of the color was due to tinting. Naturally. "Oh, how sad for you. And to lose Iris that way." She shook her head, blonde locks swinging around her shoulders, tsking. "Then this hideous murder and you being questioned and everything." She knew far more than she should and her next statement told me why. "I'm sure Crew will clean up your mess before you know it."

The way she said his name told me everything. They were either dating or had dated or had some kind of emotional connection that burned my socks so badly at the idea I'd even considered that creep attractive I wanted to scrape my tongue from the bitter taste that dried out my mouth.

I could have been the bigger person and just let it go. Yup, I sure could have, because that would be mature and turning the other cheek and stuff like that. Instead, I leaned closer to her, squinting a little, before grinning.

"Do you remember the day I punched you in sixth grade and broke your nose?" I had, too. She'd been picking on Daisy. It was the first time we crossed swords, really. She'd ignored me as unimportant and unworthy until that afternoon on the playground when I'd had enough of her taunting the kind girl who didn't get she was being played and wound up with a solid blow to the bridge of Vivian's pointed proboscis.

She flinched at the memory, one hand rising as if in defense.

"Can still see the break," I winked. And left, Petunia chuffing beside me, while Vivian's horrified examination of her nose in the glass gave me great pleasure.

Fee-3. Vivian nada, zero, go choke yourself.

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