Page 63 of The Mad Marchams

“You probably think the same.” For a guilty second Mabel wondered whether her thoughts had showed on her face. “You’ve been incredibly successful in your chosen field.”

Mabel shrugged. “I was lucky.”

“You worked hard.” Felicity wasn’t having it. “I read all about you.”

Their drinks arrived and they stopped talking to allow Lucy to set them down.

Mabel took a sip of coffee. It was good, strong, and freshly brewed, which cheered her up immensely. Felicity stirred the teapot and left the loose-leafed tea to brew.

Emboldened by the coffee, Mabel decided to try a more direct approach. “So, what’s in the packages for the post office?”

Felicity looked at her. “You’re very tenacious.”

“Like a dog with a bone.” Mabel grinned at her. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business and I’ll never ask again.”

“I thought I already tried that.” Felicity poured her tea and added a slice of lemon to the cup before raising it to her lips. She set it down with a decisive click. “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

Mabel made the sign of the cross over her heart. “I swear I’ll do that. Now, spill.”

“I… write books.”

“Okay,” Mabel said cautiously. “That was not what I was expecting to hear.”

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“I thought you might be selling stuff on eBay or Etsy, and that you didn’t want your family to know you were ‘engaged in trade’ as Bartle would say.”

“I only have the faintest idea what those things are,” Felicity said. “Did you think I was flogging off parts of Colin’s inheritance?”

Mabel gasped. “Whoa, maybe that’s where all the stuff has been going.”

Felicity glared at her for a full second before finally cracking a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told,” Mabel said, relieved that Felicity had finally got the joke.

“I haven’t taken anything from the house, although it wouldn’t surprise me if some of the other residents had been doing so,” Felicity said darkly. “Perhaps you should mention that to Colin.”

“I will.”

Their food arrived, and Mabel was slightly disappointed to see that her Welsh rarebit looked remarkably like a regular grilled-cheese sandwich. It wasn’t until she took her first bite and got the full explosion of flavors, including the beer, that she appreciated the difference. It took a great deal of will power not to finish half the sandwich in two bites and return to her conversation with Felicity.

“I assume those parcels are full of pages, right?”

“Yes.” Felicity nodded. “We do most of the editing online these days, but I always prefer to see the actual pages at some point.”

“I get that.” Mabel drank some coffee. “Code looks different on the screen and in print.”

“I suppose it does.”

“What do you write?”

A faint hint of rose flushed Felicity’s cheeks. “Romantic comedies.”

“I love those!” Mabel said. “Do you have a pen name?”

Felicity took a deep breath. “Loretta Lang.”

“Shut up!” Mabel might have been louder than she realized because everyone in the teashop looked over at their corner. “I’ve read you! You’re amazing!”