Elspeth looked chagrined.
“It’s not a London house, as I thought,” she said. “It’s a small firm in Upper Deeping called Market Town Books. Jemma’s editor is a man named Gilbert Hartley. I believe he owns the company.”
“Why not give Mr. Hartley a call?” I said. “Find out if he wants unflattering portraits in his cozy little book about the Cotswolds. Jemma may be trying to impress him with her originality when he would actually prefer something more conventional.” I smiled encouragingly. “Hand the problem over to Mr. Hartley, Elspeth. He’s Jemma’s boss. She’ll listen to him. Probably.”
Elspeth’s expression became marginally less troubled, but before she could speak, Millicent Scroggins strolled up to us. She didn’t appear to be very pleased with the world.
“You’re up bright and early this morning, Lori,” she said. “Bill—”
“Bill is a worry wart,” I said patiently. “I’m perfectly fine. You look flustered, though.”
“Blame Opal,” she snapped. “If she asks you to help her with her mail-order business, I’d advise you to run for your life.”
“What has she done to upset you?” Elspeth asked eagerly.
“She’s turned into Peggy Taxman,” Millicent declared. “God knows I’ve tried to be a good friend to her, but a friend shouldn’t be ordered about and barked at and told off every five seconds.” Her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “She expected me to lick three hundred labels yesterday. Three hundred labels in one go! My tongue would have been rubbed raw.”
“You could have used a damp sponge,” I offered.
“So I told her,” said Millicent. “I said licked labels were unsanitary and very probably illegal and she bit my head off!” Millicent sniffed indignantly. “It was the last straw. I told her exactly what I thought of her and her vaunting ambitions and left her to lick her wretched labels herself.”
“Opal’s taken on too much,” said Elspeth. “She’ll give herself a nervous breakdown if she’s not careful.”
“It would serve her right,” Millicent said tartly.
“Ladies! You won’t believe what I’ve just heard!”
Selena Buxton scurried across the cobbles to join Elspeth, Millicent, and me, and though she glanced at my bandaged thumb, she was too intent on imparting her news to inquire after my health.
“It’s over,” she announced dramatically. “Opal rang Dabney Holdstrom last night and told him not to print the piece about her jams and marmalades because she couldn’t cope with the attention it would garner.”
“Who told you about Opal?” asked Millicent.
“Opal!” Selena replied. “I just came from her cottage. I stopped there to deliver the parish newsletter and she pulled me inside to tell me I’d been right all along.”
“Right about what?” Elspeth asked.
“I hinted that she might be minimizing the difficulties involved in running a mail-order business,” said Selena. “She took it badly at the time, but she saw the light after she calculated how much it would cost her to purchase jam jars in bulk. She’s decided to go on making small batches and selling them through the Emporium.” Selena’s gaze came to rest on Millicent. “Opal’s sorry about mistreating you.”
“She should be,” Millicent said sourly.
There was a pause in which the fate of four friendships seemed to hang in the balance. Selena—the loneliest of the Handmaidens—drew a deep breath and attempted to tip the scales.
“I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea,” she said brightly.
“I’m not setting a toe in the tearoom,” Millicent declared. “Peggy’s in there, baking hot cross buns. I expect the building to go up in flames any minute.”
“I’m not suggesting that we have tea at the tearoom,” said Selena. “I’m inviting you, Elspeth, and Lori to my house for tea and scones. We’ll pick up Opal on the way. Now, Millicent,” she went on, putting a placating hand on her friend’s wrist, “I know she’s tried your patience, but you can’t deny that her strawberry jam is heavenly on scones.”
“I’d be delighted to join you,” said Elspeth. “I’d have to tiptoe around my own cottage.” She exchanged expressive glances with Selena and Millicent. “Jemma’s still in bed.”
“Such an interesting young woman,” said Selena.
“I’ll come, too,” Millicent said instantly, as if she’d rather lick a thousand labels than miss a conversation concerning Elspeth’s “interesting” niece. “And I’ll be polite to Opal as long as she’s polite to me.”
“Lori?” Selena said.