Margery Trask fingered the stack of cream-coloured envelopes as she waited in the plush foyer, wondering how long she would be required to cool her heels. It was always entertaining to observe how other business people reacted to a messenger from Matthew Wheeler. Some felt the need to practically grovel, showering her with lavish attention. Others seemed to need to prove that they weren't intimidated by Wheeler International's powerful aura. Observing the expensive, but tacky décor of the waiting area, Miss Trask suspected that this business associate fell in the latter category.

“Miss Trask. How kind of you to come personally.”

Margery smiled politely at the executive assistant. “Mrs. Wheeler wanted to make sure that Mr. Cox knows how we value his presence,” she said smoothly. “He's a true friend to the Fresh Start Riding Academy.”

“As anyone with a heart must be.”

Margery felt a hand settle at the base of her back, and she turned to face a man of approximately her own age. The infamous Richard Cox, she observed, masking her amusement. Though Margery had met him personally only once before, Madeleine and Elaine had been more than willing to share stories of the slimy businessman. She turned, removed herself from his reach, and handed him the invitation. “Mrs. Wheeler will be thrilled when I tell her I was able to deliver this personally. It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Cox.” Margery shook his hand, her grip firm and cool.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Cox replied, his fingers lingering over hers.

Miss Trask nodded briskly and left. Though she didn't look back, she could feel Richard's gaze on her until she rounded a corner. She stood tall and dignified in the elevator, carefully concealing her amusement. Richard Cox is expanding his horizons and flirting with women his own age now, she reflected, her eyes crinkling with amusement. He must have fallen on hard times if he's bothering to bestow his charm on me. The last time we met he didn't waste more than two seconds on me. She studied her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. I think we can assume that my highlights are a success...

“Trixie! Phone for you!” Mart's voice carried easily from the kitchen of Crabapple Farm to Trixie's second floor bedroom.

Trixie slammed shut her math book, a bright smile on her face. She raced down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, but stopped short of snatching the phone from her brother. “Who is it?” she asked, frowning at the puzzled expression on his face.

Covering the receiver, Mart said, “I think it's...” he paused, “Ben.”

“Ben who?” Trixie asked, her expression matching Mart's.

“How many Bens do we know?” he retorted. “Riker, of course.”

Trixie stared at the receiver, horrified. “Why would...” She stopped. “I'm going to kill Honey,” she muttered, and reached for the phone.

“Hello,” she said, turning her back on her almost-twin. Mart, however, had no intention of giving her any privacy, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Hi, Trixie. It's Ben Riker calling. How's Sleepyside's finest sleuth doing these days?”

Trixie relaxed at the sound of Ben's friendly voice. If Honey had put him up to calling her, there was no way he would be so cheerful.

“Hey, Ben,” she replied. “I'm good. How's your senior year going?”

“Great! You'd be amazed at how much more time there is for extra-curricular activities when you're not in detention all the time.”

Trixie laughed. “No frogs in your R.A.'s bed this year?”

“Nope. I've even resisted the urge to crazy-glue all the teacher-edition text books shut,” he teased.

Trixie laughed. “Don't give me any ideas! I'm having issues with math right now, and, well, that's actually sounding pretty good.”

“Not your style, Belden,” Ben replied, a little more serious than Trixie had expected.

“Tell me about it. I'd end up gluing myself to the text book. And to the desk. Possibly the floor, too.” Trixie groaned, picturing the scenario. “I'd be stuck until the police came to rescue me.”

Ben snorted. “You have plenty of people who would be happy to help you out. Besides, Honey would be right there with you.”

Trixie snickered. “Yeah. We'd be crazy-glued to each other.”

Ben hooted with laughter. “That I would pay to see.” He paused, muffling his mirth. “Speaking of seeing...”

Trixie winced, knowing what was coming.

“Di invited me to her Mardi Gras party,” he began. “So I'll be coming out that weekend. And I was wondering if we could maybe go to the party together. If you don't have a date, that is,” he added hastily.

“Oh, um...” Trixie stopped her stammering long enough to take a kick at Mart's shins as he crowded closer to the phone. “See, um, the thing is...” She elbowed Mart in the stomach. “Hang on a minute. I need to get rid of a certain little fly on the wall.”

“Little pitchers, big ears?” Ben teased.

“Not exactly.” Trixie held the phone to her chest with one arm, and pointed to the doorway with her other. “Out!” she commanded her brother. “You know you'll lose your phone privileges if I tell Moms you were eavesdropping. Go bother someone else for a change!”

Mart held up both hands and backed out of the kitchen. “I'm going, I'm going.” He stopped just before the doorway. “No 'yen for Ben', I take it?” he asked, his teasing expression replaced by one of sympathy.

Trixie didn't bother answering.

Mart sighed. “Good luck.”

Madeleine Wheeler's eyes widened. “Richard Cox did the hand on the back thing?” She grimaced and patted Margery Trask's hand. “I am so sorry, Marg. I really didn't expect...”

Margery's blue eyes twinkled. “I didn't, either. I don't normally have that sort of problem.”

Madeleine pursed her lips, a thoughtful expression on her face. “We could fix that, you know.”

“Fix what? Richard Cox?” Margery asked in amusement.

“Hardly. No, I was thinking more of the lack of male attention from desirable sources.” Madeleine's hazel eyes took quick stock of Miss Trask's neat, trim figure. “You've donated some money of your own to the Fresh Start Riding Academy, haven't you.” It wasn't a question. Madeleine Wheeler knew exactly who had supported the project.

Margery hesitated, having an idea of where the conversation was headed. “Yes, but--”

“Then you'll be a guest at the weekend get-together,” Madeleine decided. “You'll need some clothes, and...” Her gaze drifted to Miss Trask's sensible oxfords. “Shoes. Definitely shoes.”

“Madeleine...” Margery warned.

“My mind is made up,” Madeleine said. “You and I are going shopping.” She linked arms with the former governess turned estate manager. “It'll be fun!”

Margery sighed, giving in gracefully to her fate. How bad could it be? In fact, it had to be less stressful than trying to keep the Bob-Whites out of trouble...

She smelled the flowers before she saw them. Diana Lynch opened her locker curiously, and was greeted by the sight of two dozen pink stargazer lilies. She looked over her shoulder, then peeked in the locker a second time. The flowers were still there, spilling over her text books and gym bag.

Mart didn't leave flowers in her locker. He personally presented her with fresh cuttings from his mother's garden. And never pink.

She plucked the card from where it had been tucked among the buds.

Darling Diana,
Blossoms for the blooming beauty. Meet me after school?
Your Jack

Diana tapped the card thoughtfully, a bewitching smile betraying her amusement. A squeal from behind her quickly recalled her attention.

“Flowers!” Honey exclaimed, then frowned. “Since when does Mart send you flowers at school?”

Diana's eyes twinkled with mischief. “He doesn't. And I'm willing to bet that you have a surprise waiting in your locker.”

Honey pulled a face. Di followed Honey to her locker, and nodded in understanding when a bouquet of honey-scented orange tulips was revealed.

“Time to put our plan into action,” Diana stated.

Honey rooted through her belongings, “accidentally” damaging several of the flowers. “What plan is that?” she asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

“The one that teaches Jack Ash not to mess with us.”

“And teaches Mart that he doesn't need to stake his territory?” Honey guessed.

“That's the one,” Di agreed.

“And how, exactly, are we going to accomplish that?”

Diana gathered the fragrant blossoms from Honey's locker, and stopped at her own locker only long enough to retrieve the pink stargazers. “First, we pay a visit to Trixie's locker. It wouldn't hurt her to find some flowers in her locker.”

Honey's wary expression brightened. “A secret admirer is always fun,” she agreed. “But don't the tulips and stargazers kind of clash?”

Diana glanced at the brilliant bouquet of flowers in her arms. “Actually, I like pink and orange together.”

Honey took a second look. “It could be worse,” she agreed. “And it's not as if Trixie is picky about flowers.”

Diana grinned. “Besides, if they're not orchids, she probably won't spend much time looking at them.”

Honey sent a furtive glance over her shoulder, then opened Trixie's locker. Making sure the cards had been removed, Diana thrust the flowers onto the top shelf.

“She hasn't had a mystery for a while,” Di commented. “Maybe this will cheer her up.”

Honey stared at her. “What do you mean? Trixie's not depressed.”

“She doesn't have a date for the Mardi Gras party,” Di explained. “She knows she doesn't need one, so she's mad at herself because she wants one. But there it is. Nobody's even asked her. Of course she needs a distraction!”

Honey sighed. “My brother really is an idiot. He's completely in love with her. And he won't ask her out.”

With a toss of her hair, Diana said, “I will never understand Jim. He's a great guy, and a wonderful friend, but I can't figure him out.”

“I think he just needs to do things his own way,” Honey said thoughtfully.

Diana shrugged. “If he doesn't do something soon, somebody else will. Lots of guys are interested in Trixie.”

Honey gnawed her bottom lip. “I thought Brian asking me out would get Jim motivated.”

“Maybe other guys showing an interest in her will,” Diana suggested.

Honey shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, I'm sure Jim and Trixie will figure things out. Eventually.”

“I'm sure they will. Now, we need to leave a note for our favourite Jack Ash...”

Honey and Diana stole away from Trixie's locker, heads bent together as they decided on a plan of attack.

Mart rounded the corner just in time to see Diana and Honey disappear around the next corner, their arms full of flowers. What are they doing with flowers? he wondered, stopping short. He racked his brain, trying to think of some sort of project they could be working on which would involve flowers, but came up short.

I know for a fact that Di's flowers aren't from me. And Brian would have flowers delivered to the Manor House, not the school. Not that he can afford to send flowers...

The uneasy feeling in the pit of Mart's stomach grew. Someone was sending flowers to Di. Someone who wasn't him. And Diana hadn't looked very upset. In fact, she had looked...happy. Was Di cheating on him?

Mart swallowed hard. Di wouldn't do that, would she? The reasonable part of his brain told him that there must be a logical explanation. That Di loved him, and would never see someone else behind his back.

But the other part of his brain wasn't having anything to do with that line of reasoning. Of course she's cheating on you, a little voice taunted. Why wouldn't she? She's gorgeous, kind, and fun. Who wouldn't want to date her? And why would she stay with a clumsy walking dictionary like you when she could be with—His eyes grew wide. Jack Ash. It made sense. Horrible, sickening sense.

He had to know. He had to know if Di was cheating on him. And there were ways. Trixie wasn't the only detective in the family...