Merry Market Murder(77)

“It’s good to see you. I’d love to grab you a hot chocolate or something.” And let Sam know you’re here, I thought.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I don’t want to hold you up, either. I’m here to look around, hopefully get into the holiday spirit some. Hello there,” she said to Hobbit as she leaned over to scratch behind my dog’s ears. Hobbit liked making new friends who knew how to scratch behind her ears.

“I wanted to talk to you again soon anyway. I was talking to my parents about our visit and they not only remember you, they worked on your campaign.”

Evie straightened up and her eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yes, their names are Jason and Polly Robins.”

Evie smiled. “This world just gets smaller all the time. I’ll be; you’re their daughter?”

“One of them. My sister, Allison, is the Bailey’s manager.”

Evie laughed. “I’ll be,” she repeated. “Any chance your parents are here?”

“I’d say there’s a huge chance. We’ll find them.”

We walked together, very tall Evie and short me, with Hobbit in between us. I thought about asking her for details about the woman who looked like Mamma Maria, but I didn’t want her to regret that she’d confided in Mamma, so I kept that to myself. For now.

It wasn’t until I’d reunited Evie with my parents that something very obvious became a solid and probably important thought.

Evie—Evelyn to Polly and Jason—was hugging Mom and telling her that she actually looked better now than she did in the eighties, that she’d made a good hippie but the grown-up clothes and hair suited her much better. Sam had also probably contributed to the idea that pinged in my head when he was reticent to base suspicions on looks.

I agreed with Evie that Mom looked great, and so did Dad, but they also looked different. It would have been impossible not to look older, no matter how well you took care of yourself.

And Mamma Maria’s twin from the 1980s just might not look like the Mamma of today.

I stepped away from Mom, Dad, and Evie and gathered my thoughts as I looked out to the crowd. Unless I had snapshots from the past, how would I know who might have looked like Mamma and the ornament?

Or perhaps the woman had aged extraordinarily well and had just changed her hair color. That took me back to Stephanie. Had she been blonde instead of strawberry-blonde back then? I didn’t know.

Sometimes chance plays a big role in what feels like a futile search, but it is a rare gift and one that should never be ignored.

As I was drowning in my own disconnected ideas, I happened to glance across the street and see two people I’d recently met: Joel and Patricia Archer. They’d been cagey, uncomfortable, and distant. And what had Gellie said about them? That they used to work for Reggie and that they offered to help out again this year with the trees. They were currently inspecting a patriotic tree, all red, white, and blue. They were deep in conversation with each other. I looked at Evie and considered her quick transformation into someone who might want to step back into society. I hated to interrupt, but not enough.

“Excuse me, Evie,” I said as I put one hand on her shoulder and pointed with the other one. “Do you know them?”

She squinted across the street, even lifted her glasses once, replaced them, and squinted some more. “I don’t think so.”

“They’re Joel and Patricia Archer. They used to work for Reggie, but I’m not sure when.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember them, Becca, but it has been a long time.”

I looked at Evie, then at Mom and Dad, who had both raised their eyebrows slightly. They knew I was searching for something.

“Okay, good to know. Sorry to interrupt.”

I left them to their conversation again, turning back to watch across the street. My thoughts were still jumbled, but they came to quick order a second later.

Patricia Archer peered furtively in every direction. The crowd was so busy enjoying the parade that she thought no one was paying any attention to her, but there we were, Hobbit and I, watching her every move.

Once convinced she could get away with it, she reached to the tree and plucked off a small three-by-five flag ornament. I didn’t know for sure, but I thought it was painted wood. She dropped it into her bag and then turned to Joel, who’d been blocking her from one side as well as pretending not notice what his wife was doing.

My mouth fell open. I was torn between yelling and telling my mom on her. A part of me wanted to run across the street and confront her; another part just wished I hadn’t seen the theft.

I didn’t excuse my quick departure. I just stepped away from my parents and Evie and into the street. The large crowd and my short stature made it difficult to both see and move quickly.