by Jody Holford
“I will.”
“Excuse me, Georgie, do you have any bumbleberry pie left?” A woman Molly had seen a few times in the bakery nudged her way to the front of the table, angling herself so she cut Molly and Sam off. Her dark red hair was a mass of wide curls that framed her face. Sam grinned.
“Hey Mrs. Harver,” he said.
She looked at him, her aging eyes squinting to see who was saying hello. There were more wrinkles on her face than lines on a map and she got a kick out of telling anyone who’d listen that she’d earned every one of them.
“Hello, Sam. How are you doing?”
“Good ma’am. You?”
She preened a little, running a hand down the front of her blue zip up hoodie that matched her blue jogging pants. Molly bit her lip.
“I’m very well. And you? We haven’t met yet. Is Sam courting you?”
Molly swallowed her giggle. “I believe he’s trying to, yes. I’m Molly Owens. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Harver.”
They shook hands and Molly just knew she was being sized up. She had stolen the town’s most eligible bachelor according to the high school newspaper, which was run by Hannah.
“And you. I’ve heard good things about you and I like what you’re doing with the paper. For a while, the only time I read it was when I needed a good sedative. It’s a lot more upbeat now and I sure do like the ‘Say Anything’ feature. I’ll be writing into that one for sure.”
Sam squeezed her hand and they chatted for another moment before continuing on their walk.
“Did you see the ‘Say Anything’ section?” Molly asked as they strolled past more of the vendors with only a cursory glance. The sky was getting darker and the first hint of stars were peeking out through the night.
Sam, who’d grabbed a sample of cookie before leaving the table, finished chewing before answering. “I did. Thought it was pretty funny. Risky though, letting people share their open opinions.”
Wrapping her arm around his biceps, she leaned closer. “Don’t worry. the Britton Bay Bulletin has an excellent editor that vets each submission and makes necessary adjustments.”
“I figured. Should be fun to see what people say. Mrs. Harver tells everyone she used to be a Hollywood starlet. She’s probably got some stories to share,” he said.
“Wouldn’t that be fun?”
They stopped near a flagstone path that led from the sidewalk to the sand. Together, they stared at the water, taking a moment of quiet and enjoying the gentle lap of the waves.
By the time they browsed a few more tables and got their ice cream, the stars were out in full force. Walking back to the bed-and-breakfast, Molly yawned. The closer they got, the more she imagined how nice it would be if he didn’t just kiss her goodbye at the door like most nights. How nice it would be to have him come in, curl up on the couch and when both of them were ready to call it a day, curl into her bed together. She missed living with someone, but the last experience had left her more than a little jaded. The next time she shared a home with someone, she’d be a lot more certain of the person’s character. She had no doubt about Sam’s, but she didn’t want to rush. She liked this feeling—him courting her. She smiled at the thought. She started to tell him how cute she thought it was that Mrs. Harver had asked, but an angry voice stopped her.
Sam pulled her to a stop just as they reached the magnolia tree at the side of his mother’s home. They were about to step onto the path that led around the back or the front and would take her to her own cottage.
“What do you want?” a male voice hissed.
Molly looked at Sam. “Should we go around?” She whispered so low she wondered if he heard.
“I wanted to see if it was actually you,” a female voice replied. They weren’t overly loud and clearly they were on the side of the house away from the wedding setup. They weren’t exactly quiet either.
Sam put a finger to his lips and pulled Molly closer so they huddled behind the tree. Like her, he probably thought it was too awkward to try and go around either way. So they stayed still, breathing in each other’s air while they unintentionally eavesdropped. Molly couldn’t see anything through the trees and even though the moon shone bright, it didn’t cast its glow through the branches and shaded area of the side of the house.
“It’s me. Now you know. Now let’s pretend it never happened.” The man sounded angry.
“Aw, why? Would that upset her?” Disdain and false injury rang out from the female voice that Molly struggled to recognize. It was familiar.
“You can’t say a thing. I’m warning you. I’m begging you,” the man’s voice said.
“Not the first time you’ve done that,” came the female reply.
“Don’t. It was a mistake. Don’t make it something it wasn’t. You’re in a good place, I’m in a good place. Please, please let it go.”
“Or what?”
Sam and Molly locked eyes.
“Or you’ll regret it.”
Shuffling movement had them both easing back because it sounded close. She realized one of them had stalked off when she heard footsteps on the concrete stairs at the side of the house. If someone was heading that way, around the back of the house, which way would the other person go? When they heard nothing else after a few minutes, Sam took a step forward, around the tree and looked down the path.
“They’re gone,” he whispered. “One of them must have gone around the front.”
Molly nodded. “The other went around the back, so it’s most likely a guest.”
Sam’s hand came to her back and he, too, looked around the darkened yard. It was pointless, as there was nothing to see.
“Wonder what that was,” Sam said, his voice still low.
Molly looked up at him, no longer sleepy. “I don’t know what, but I know who one of them was.”
“Which one?”
“The woman. That was Skyler Friessen’s voice.”
Chapter Six
Molly woke just before seven and took Tigger on a quicker than usual stroll. When she’d first arrived, she’d explored different hikes and routes before she found one she loved. It took them down to the ocean via some steps and if she walked along the shore, she’d come up near Main Street. This morning she’d turn back once they made it to the water. There was no way she’d be late for her interview with Skyler. How can I possibly work in a question about last night? It’s none of your business. Somehow, that didn’t make it less interesting. Who would she fight with? There was the male sous chef.
Tigger tugged, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a surprise to see the beach so quiet. Other than a couple strolling, hand in hand way down the sand, they had the area to themselves. Molly was looking forward to experiencing Britton Bay in the quiet season. When she’d arrived, the season was just picking up and there was plenty going on. It would be interesting to see what sort of articles and stories they’d deliver to the town when there wasn’t much happening.
“We might have the beach all to ourselves all the time now,” she said to Tigger as they rounded a crop of rocks that teenagers had drawn and written all over. New hashtags got added frequently. Today, the most vibrant ones read: #givelove #gotlove. A lot nicer than any of the graffiti she’d seen in California.
Molly sat on one of the logs and let Tigger romp around since there was no one to bother. The tide was out and lapping waves were like therapy for her busy mind. She could almost shut off the constant questions and wondering that took up too much space in her brain when she zoned in on the water.
Tigger bounded up to the white crests and then ran away like they’d spooked him. Molly laughed and the sound carried away on the breeze. Gulls flew overhead and Molly looked up, gazing at the early morning sky. It was beautiful here. Her parents were thinking of coming for a visit in the next couple of months. She’d wanted time to settle first. And t
o decide if you were going to stay.
She thought of the way Sam kissed her, of how she knew people when she took Tigger out, how Katherine was a perfect blend between motherly and friendly.
“Definitely staying.”
Whistling for Tigger, she waited until he joined her then reattached his leash. “Time to go, bud.”
As they started walking back to the stairs that would lead up to the road and take her home, a flash of yellow caught her eye. Molly walked up to a massive, hollowed out tree trunk. Tigger’s tail went crazy and he pulled at the leash. The sand scrunched under her running shoes as she kept up his pace. When she rounded the tree, she saw Chantel sitting, back against it. Her blonde hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a pair of dark leggings with an oversized sweater. Her perfect, alabaster skin was blotchy and tears still marked her cheeks. She sniffed loudly.
“Chantel?”
She startled and turned her head to look at Molly. Tigger stretched forward, doing his best to crawl onto her. To Molly’s surprise, the woman reached out as she leaned forward and pet his head.
“Do I know you?”
Stepping closer so Tigger didn’t hurt himself, Molly shook her head. “No. I live in the cottage at the bed-and-breakfast. I recognized you as the bride-to-be. Are you…okay?”
Chantel sniffled again and pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket, wiping her nose. The polished, seemingly high maintenance woman Molly had seen was gone. This woman seemed normal, approachable, and incredibly sad.
“I’m fine. Just emotional I guess. That cottage is cute. I’d originally asked if my fiancé and I could stay there. Katherine said it was rented out. I wanted a bit of space from the bridal party. And my mom.”
Molly couldn’t fault the woman for that. “I can imagine with only a few days left to go, you’ve got a lot on your plate. Everything at the house looks beautiful though. And from what I could smell last night when I popped into the kitchen, the food is going to be amazing.”
Continuing to pet Tigger, who’d flopped down in the sand, Chantel looked away. “Yes. It’ll be amazing no matter what the cost. My mother would have it no other way.”
Shaking her head like she’d just snapped out of a trance, Chantel stood and dusted herself off. “I need to get back. The bridesmaids she enlisted insisted on a spa day.”
Scrunching her brows, she asked hesitantly, “Enlisted?”
The smile Chantel gave her was forced. “Of course. You can’t have just anyone stand up for you at your wedding. What would people think?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, well. I can’t believe this town even has a spa. It seems so tiny and the way my mom always talked about her hometown, I was expecting to feel like a pioneer in the olden days.
Molly bit her tongue so she didn’t scoff. They were a smaller town for sure, but Portland was only a couple of hours away. They weren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere. Tugging at Tigger’s leash so Chantel could step around her, Molly noted she looked more composed. She’d effectively put her mask back in place.
“See you around.”
Molly didn’t bother to remind her they were heading to the same place. She didn’t exactly exude a welcoming-walk-back-with-me vibe.
She and Tigger waited a few moments then started up the steps. Tummy growling, Molly wondered if she had time to stop by Bella’s for some scones.
“Maybe I’ll just grab some cereal this morning.” It would be safer and quicker. Then she remembered she’d grabbed some muffins the night before and her mood improved.
* * * *
Molly didn’t see anyone when she returned home. It still seemed strange to her that the wedding party, bride and groom and all, had come so early. In California, she’d had a couple of invites for bachelorette parties that involved weekends in Vegas. What happened to just a fun night of laughing and dancing with friends to celebrate your upcoming marriage?
“Like you know anything about marriage or commitment. You’re freaking out because you want Sam to stay the night.”
Tigger looked at her and she realized she’d spoken out loud. Technically, Sam had stayed the night, but only to comfort her after the woman who’d killed Vernon East had tried to do away with Molly as well. Molly shivered and got into her Jeep, nerves and excitement pumping to the same beat.
Now and again, she still had vivid dreams of finding Vernon dead, but she tried not to think about it or push away the thoughts when they came. Sam had stayed with her that night and held her safe in his arms through until morning. She’d slept better than she had in a really long time.
Pulling out of the driveway, she passed a large flower delivery van. Looks like the guests would be waking up any minute to start the day of festivities. Molly turned on Brewster, the road before Main Street. The only hotel in Britton Bay was about a five-minute walk from all of the shops and the beach. There was also a motel and a few other bed-and-breakfasts, but none like Katherine’s.
Seaside Shangri-La was a four-story rectangular building. The top floor offered views of the ocean and Jacuzzi tubs. Molly had considered staying there her first few days in town, but had opted for the motel instead because it had a diner attached. Though, once she’d checked out the food on Main Street, she hadn’t gone back.
The outside of the building was plain, beige stucco, but each room boasted a wide balcony. There was a swimming pool on the grounds, as well as a half dozen cottage units that sat poolside. Molly turned left toward the parking lot, which was across from the cabins. Surprise had her pumping the brakes. What were the police doing at the hotel? A couple of cruisers sat parked at an angle toward one of the units. They’d obviously arrived in a hurry.
“Probably a drunk and disorderly,” she said aloud, pulling into the lot. “Or Corky causing a fuss.”
Corky Templeton was the so-called “town crazy.” According to Calliope—who owned the Come ‘n Get It Eatery, Corky had been hit by lightning several times and the town looked at him as a sort of mascot. They all took turns feeding him, giving him clothing or shelter when he needed it and, if he was having a bad day, helping him calm down. No one appeared to know the true story of what made Corky the way he was, but there was a softness in the man’s eyes that made Molly sad. She couldn’t help but wonder how in a town full of history, no one knew his.
Glancing back and forth between the hotel and the people milling about the cabins, Molly wondered if Skyler had told the front desk that she was expecting a visitor this early. Or at all. Getting out of the Jeep, purse slung over her shoulder, Molly saw Corky peeking around the front corner of the hotel, watching the police activity. She made her way over to him cautiously so she wouldn’t startle him.
Corky was wringing his hands together. He wore fingerless gloves and an oversized coat—despite the heat—that he had zipped up to his bushy-haired chin. When he turned and saw Molly, he clapped his gloved hands together.
“She’s not all right. Just brushing her teeth then she fell. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t. I saw the stars. The stars are dark.” He was moving his hands quicker now and looking around the corner, pacing between the building and Molly.
Unsure how to ease his obviously distraught state, she stepped in from of him so he had to stop in his tracks. “Hi Corky. Everything okay?” She’d yet to have a completely understandable conversation with him since she’d moved to town, but never had he seemed so agitated in her presence.
He froze in front of her and stared at her like she was the one spouting nonsense. “No more stars. I wanted to go swimming. I came to go swimming. I was going to go swimming and she fell.”
Molly tried to smile, but her confusion made it difficult. Who was he talking about? She glanced back at the police cars. Had there been an accident? She focused on the last part of what he’d said. The only part she could help with. “You can swim in the ocean, Corky.”
He shook his head. “It’s not safe. No
where is safe.”
“It’s safe. You can swim at main beach,” she said, wondering if he was disoriented about where he was. “Do you want me to take you there?”
Corky pointed at the pool. “I just wanted to swim. Sometimes I swim. I don’t get in trouble for swimming if no one is watching.”
Perhaps he’d been caught and gotten in trouble? He started wringing his hands again, like he couldn’t warm them despite the gloves. The smell of his breath and unwashed clothes reminded her that if he hadn’t showered, the management would be quite upset—rightly so—about him swimming in their guest pool. That might not be the reason for the police, but it could definitely explain the homeless man’s near hysteria.
“Can I do anything for you, Corky?”
He shook his head again, staring at her like a lost soul. “No. Nothing can be done.”
She hesitated, not wanting to leave him like this, but in truth, he was always somewhat like this. Molly patted his arm and made her way down the sidewalk and into the hotel, making a mental note to bring him a coffee and muffin the next time he was around the Britton Bay Bulletin.
The lobby was well lit and had bonus lighting coming from the wall of automatic sliding doors. The bellman also functioned as the concierge, front desk clerk and, if necessary, a maid.
Molly had seen him in the diner and since Calliope’s goal was for Molly to have the scoop on absolutely everyone in town, she knew his name was Kip Martin. His dark face was a study in tension, his lips drawn down, his eyes darting up and down, then locking on hers.
“Good morning. Molly, right? I don’t think we’ve met.”
He extended his hand as Molly approached the counter and she shook it. “No, we haven’t. You’re Kip right? It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well, though I hope you’re not checking in, as we are, um…experiencing an issue.”
An issue? What did that mean? She put her arms on the counter, folding them over one another. “Actually, I’m here to interview one of your guests. Skyler Friessen.”
