by Polly Holmes
Once a mother, always a mother. She missed not having her mother live close by. Longing plagued her heart. It had been far too long since she’d spoken to her mother. An error she would rectify, and soon. “Thank you, Mrs McCorrson. They look delicious and thank you for inviting me.”
“I’m just glad you were still able to make it after your mishap last night.”
Margarete squirmed with embarrassment in her seat. A self-inflicted mishap.
A cheeky female voice spoke from behind Margarete’s chair. “And aren’t you lucky to have Logan Hunter at your beck and call? What would you do without your knight in shining armour?”
“Clair!” Margarete giggled, swatting her joyously on the arm. “I’m sure I would have managed.”
“I’ll leave you two ladies to it,” Edith said turning to join some guests on the other side of the room.
Clair joined her on the couch snuggling into her personal space. “So, spill.”
Margarete emptied the last few drops of her champagne glass. “What are you talking about?”
Clair smiled and rolled her emerald-green eyes coyly. “Don’t play dumb with me, young lady. I want to know all about McDreamy, Logan Hunter. Has he kissed you yet?”
“Clair…really?” Margarete asked, her chest tightening under her friend’s scrutiny. “That would constitute as gossip, now, wouldn’t it?”
Logan had been the perfect gentleman when he’d dropped her off at the high tea. He’d even helped her walk to the door. She hadn’t expected anything other than a, “see you tomorrow” or “can I call you later.” The last thing she’d expected was his lips on hers in an erotic kiss that left her heart racing and her mind jelly. His lips remembered the sweet afternoon air and she locked herself in his embrace, never wanting his sturdy arms to let her go.
Clair smirked. “That good, huh?”
Margarete giggled like a smitten schoolgirl. She glanced around, checking that the coast was clear of nosy eavesdroppers. She whispered, “One usually doesn’t kiss and tell, but yes. That good.”
Clair clapped her hands together triumphantly. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Mary-Jane asked as she sauntered into the room, a full glass of champagne in one hand and a stacked plate of nibbles in the other. She squashed her backside into the remaining seat on the lounge. “What do you know?”
No, no, no, this is not going to happen. Margarete stared at Mary-Jane, her mind a sudden blank.
Clair sighed. “I suppose there’s no use keeping it a secret.”
Margarete’s jaw dropped into a rounded “O” and her throat seized as if a vice was squeezing the last ounce of air from her lungs. Please don’t do this. Don’t tell her. Her eyes pleaded with Clair for discretion.
“If you must know. I have finally convinced Margarete to enter her famous apple strudel into the annual dessert competition at this year’s Easter Fair.”
“What?” Margarete and Mary-Jane asked in perfect unison.
“But…” Mary-Jane paused to finish eating a mini, lavender-and-blueberry cheesecake. “That means you’ll be in direct competition with Charlotte. You know she loves to enter her cupcakes and she’s won the last few years in a row.”
Margarete felt the blood drain from her face, or was it the champagne going straight to her head? “I…um…I didn’t exactly say I’d enter. I think I said I’d think about it. Anyway, unless they find Pierre’s real murderer, I won’t be able to enter. I’ll be stuck in prison.”
“Minor detail,” Clair said, brushing off Margarete’s concerns. “I’m sure they’ll find the real murderer in no time.”
Mary-Jane popped another of the mini cakes into her mouth and leaned in towards the woman. “Speaking of murder, I can’t believe a woman could do such a thing to poor Pierre.”
“What the? Where did you hear that?” Margarete froze. How can she possibly know that? I only found out earlier today.
“It’s all over town.” Mary-Jane’s brow wrinkled like a crumpled chip packet. “I think it was Shelly at the hairdresser…or was it Kelly at Snip ’n’ Sew, who heard it from someone close to the investigation?”
“Who?” Margarete asked impatiently.
“It doesn’t matter now. I guess that means you’ll be their number one suspect again, considering you don’t have an alibi.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charlotte said, joining the ladies in the lounge room. Cassidy was close behind. “If it was a woman, then it could have just as easily been you, Mary-Jane.”
Mary-Jane coughed and sputtered her food, almost choking on it. “I don’t think so. I am not a murderer. Besides, I have an alibi.” She paused and gestured for the ladies to tighten the circle. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Shelly at The Classic Curl told me her boss, Stephanie, has been in a right grumpy mood since the murder. And she left town in a hurry this afternoon. Goodness knows why, although, she was behaving rather peculiar at the party on Friday night. I don’t remember seeing her at the speeches, do you?”
They paused and Margarete did a quick recount, trying to remember where Stephanie had been during the speeches. Her mind blanked. The speeches had been a blur after being accused of murdering Pierre. “I can’t say that I did.”
“Actually, come to think of it, the last time I saw her, she’d just come in from outside. Her face had been as red as a beetroot, as if she’d had an argument with someone,” Charlotte added.
Cassidy’s inquisitorial expression was not lost on Margarete. “Then I guess the police had better widen their search.”
Mary-Jane stood and gathered her belongings. “You’re probably right. If you’ll excuse me. I must get going, I promised Noel we’d begin planning his promotion party this evening. Bye, ladies.” She turned toward Margarete and smiled. “Good luck in the Easter Fair with your apple strudel. I must say goodbye to Edith before I go. Ta ta.”
Cassidy huffed and folded her arms as they watched Mary-Jane swagger off toward Edith. Mary-Jane’s navy-blue-and-yellow, calf-length dress swaying as she went. “If I ever turn out as conceited as that woman, someone please pull the carrot out of my backside.”
A ruckus of laughter filled the room and a warmth filled Margarete’s heart. She gazed at the glowing faces of the three McCorrson woman. She cherished their friendship. With their passions as fiery as their red locks and hearts of pure gold, the sisters were invaluable friends.
“By the sounds of it, I might have some competition at the Easter Fair dessert competition,” Charlotte said, looking toward Margarete with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Margarete shook her head. “No, no. That was just Clair making small talk. I am not entering this year or any other year.” Shock expressions greeted her words.
Charlotte cleared her throat, giving a cheeky grin. “I do have a new recipe I’m dying to try, but it will have to wait until later in the week. Liam and I are heading to up to Coffs tomorrow. He has to go for work, so I thought I’d tag along. I’ll pop in early to the shop before I go and bake extra for the lunch rush. But, Clair, we’re going to have to advertise for a new chef soon, aren’t we?”
Clair nodded. “I know, we were lucky to nab Dannielle Curzon when we did for CC’s Cupcake Haven. That reminds me. Isn’t Finn due back from Vietnam soon?”
Cassidy’s hazel-blue eyes sparkled at the mention of her boyfriend, Finn. “He sure is and I cannot wait. I’m leaving at the crack of dawn to meet him in Sydney and then we thought we might visit his parents. They’ve brought a new apartment in Coogee Bay.”
“Coogee Bay. Ooooh, aren’t we moving up in the world.” Charlotte taunted Cassidy with her playful banter.
“Margarete, there you are.” Katie’s voice sailed across the room, cutting the chatter in half. “I looked for you today at the café as agreed, but Savannah said you’d sprained your ankle.”
Margarete slapped her forehead. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. Guilty as charged. My day hasn’t exactly gone as planned and I should have rung you, but it tot
ally slipped my mind.”
“So, do I get the scoop on how you sprained your ankle?” Katie asked with a hint of mischief in her eye. She sat in Mary-Jane’s vacated spot. “Don’t tell me, you were chasing a possible suspect down the street, you fought, and he went down after you. And then you karate chopped him with your foot.”
If only you knew.
“Now, that would make a great story,” Cassidy chuckled.
Margarete shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. I just misjudged my front porch steps, that’s all. It’s not too bad and I’ll be up chasing the bad guys sooner than you can say chocolate caramel cupcakes.”
A moan echoed from Cassidy’s direction. “Why did you have to say chocolate caramel cupcakes? You all know they’re my favourite.” She shot up from the lounge, her hands on her hips.
She glared a disgruntled expression at Margarete. “Now, I’m going to have to have another one. Thanks very much, Margarete.”
“What did I do?” Margarete asked, shocked by Cassidy’s abrupt exit.
“Nothing at all,” Clair said, dismissing Margarete’s worry with a simple eye roll. “Cassidy is obsessed with Charlotte’s chocolate and caramel cupcakes. She has been ever since she came back from New York. Now we try and avoid even the mention of them.”
Oh, how she loved these ladies. She ran her hand over her forehead. The effects of the champagne seemed to be wearing off.
“Are you okay?” Katie asked.
A slow burn crept back into Margarete’s leg as she shuffled on the couch. “I think I may have overdone it a little today. My ankle has decided to let me know it’s not too happy with me.”
“I assume you didn’t drive. Would you like me to take you home?” Katie asked. A sly expression worked its way across her face. “And if we happen to have a chat, as promised, along the way, then it will be like killing two birds with one stone.”
Katie’s pleading smile gripped Margarete’s heart. She did make a promise to Katie, and she did need to get home. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Thank goodness Charlotte had thought to come in early and make extra cupcakes before she flitted off to Coffs.” Clair said, amazed at the continuous stream of customers. Both she and Suzi had been run off their feet since opening. She’d have blisters on her blisters. Thank heavens Dannielle had been okay on her own at CC’s Cupcake Haven until Charlotte returned. Clair had been chuffed with herself when she scored award-winning pastry chef, Dannielle Curzon, for CC’s Cupcake Haven over in Watson’s Creek.
Clair was emptying the last of the strawberry and lemon cheesecake cupcakes into the display case when she paused, her gaze catching sight of an awkward man hovering by the front display counter at the other end of the shop. He’d been in the same position for almost thirty minutes and hadn’t made an attempt to buy a single item.
“Can I help you?” Clair asked the tall, dark-haired man. A nervy shiver scuttled up her spine and she paused with caution. Although she knew most people in Ashton Point, it was hard to know a newcomer, with all the tourists passing through town.
His head whipped around at the sound of her voice. Clair was momentarily taken aback by the sadness that consumed his deep, ocean-blue eyes. Almost as if he’d experienced a pain worse than anything she could ever imagine.
A haunted smile crept into his expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem rude. I’m not really myself today. I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I was wondering if you might be able to tell me where I can find Charlotte McCorrson.”
Every muscle in her body seized at the mention of her sister’s name. What did he want with Charlotte? “Can I ask what it is pertaining to?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Nathan Bates. Dario Bates was my father.”
Dario Bates… Pierre?
The air emptied from her lungs in one swoop, her hand flying to her chest. “Dario Bates?”
“Clair,” Suzi called from the opposite end of the shop. “Is everything all right?”
He ran a hand through his short golden-brown locks. “Forgive me, I know this must come as a shock. I’ve been looking for my father—I mean, my biological father, for the past ten years and it seems I may have found him. Somewhat late, as I understand.”
“Clair?” Suzi’s concerned voice called once more.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m fine.” She turned to Suzi. “Can you watch the shop for a few minutes while I serve this gentleman?”
Suzi nodded. “Sure, no problem.”
Clair gestured for him to follow her to the side of the counter so they could chat more privately. “I’m Clair McCorrson, Charlotte is my sister. You say you have been looking for your biological father?”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s taken me a hell of a long time, considering he was using a false name. That sent me on a bit of a wild goose chase. With no help from the police, I started my own investigation and I finally traced him here, to Ashton Point.”
“I can’t believe Pierre, I mean Dario, had a son we knew nothing about,” Clair said, still annoyed he’d lied to them.
“That’s perfectly understandable. My mother and he had a somewhat short affair when he worked in The Ravens Tavern in Melbourne. She was a waitress and he was the chef.”
The blood drained from Clair’s face. The Ravens Tavern. Pierre’s referee. So, it was real after all.
“Mum was head over heels in love with him, but apparently, the owner forbid workplace affairs. When he found out about Mum and Dario, he fired her.”
“Oh, how awful.”
He bent his head but not before she saw the raw anguish in her eyes, “Mum worked in a few places around Melbourne, but never found a place she felt truly happy. So, she ended up moving to Sydney. A few months passed and their relationship didn’t survive the long distance. When she found out she was pregnant she decided against telling him. After all, they weren’t together anymore.”
Clair couldn’t fathom the gut-wrenching horror the man in front of her must have felt when he found out, not only who his father was, but that he had been murdered. Judging by the look of despair in his expression, he knew his father was dead, but did he know he’d been murdered?
“Mum was very open with me and used to tell me all about him, like how pedantic he was when it came to his cooking.” He chuckled to himself. “Apparently, before every big event he cooked for, he’d take a moment to pray for guidance and help. Strange, huh?”
Clair did a great job of hiding her shock behind her half-smile. “No, not so strange at all. That’s exactly what he did here.”
She remembered Charlotte making note of it, way back when he’d first started. Clair remembered her saying, “Hey, if praying makes him cook better, who are we to judge?”
Clair bit her bottom lip, unsure of her next words. “Um, I’m not really sure how to tell you this, but your father—”
Nathan’s sorrowful words cut hers short. “Is dead. I know. The police have already told me that he was found under suspicious circumstances.”
Sorrowful tears welled in Clair’s eyes and threatened to spill. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
His solemn voice continued, as if Clair’s words hadn’t penetrated the emotional shield he’d erected. “I knew there were two café-style places in town. I was under the impression he worked at the Tea 4 Two Café and when I was there earlier, I overheard a few people talking. Talking about him, about what happened to him. It didn’t take me long to work out they were talking about Dario. I figured the one group who would know all the details would be the police so that’s where I went. I’m still getting over the shock. I want to learn as much about him as I can. They told me he worked here. I was hoping you might be able to give me some insight as to the kind of man he was.”
“Well… Pierre, I mean Dario was one of the best pastry chefs I’ve ever seen. He and Charlotte seem to work so well together. As far as I know, he always gave his best. If I’m honest, I spen
d most of my time now over at CC’s Cupcake Haven. I really didn’t know him that well.” Clair words seemed hollow, but what else could she say?
He continued. “I understand he worked with Charlotte for a while. Maybe she can fill me in some more. I’d like to know if I’m anything like him. Also, I was hoping to gather any personal belongings he might have left here. Anything that can open up his world and help me understand the man he was. It would definitely go a long way to helping me come to terms with losing a father I never knew in such a horrible way.”
“Of course,” Clair smiled and breathed a sigh, knowing she could ease his pain ever so slightly. “I know he had a locker out back. Wait here and I’ll be back in a moment.”
There wasn’t a great deal tucked away in his locker, but what was there, she was happy to pass onto his son. “Here we go. Not much, I’m afraid,” Clair said as she placed his belongings on the counter.
“One cardigan, a cap, an empty lunchbox and this.” She held up what looked like a jewellery box that could house a bracelet. “Maybe it was a present for Olivia.”
Nathan’s brow creased. “Who is Olivia?”
“Apparently, she and your father were an item. She says they were in love. She was pretty shattered by his death. They kept it a secret, which is hard in a town like Ashton Point.”
How they did that beats me, Clair thought.
Clair’s eyes widened in surprise. Nathan opened the jewellery box and pulled out an odd-looking key on a pretty pink ribbon.
“That is not what I expected. It looks like a locker key.” Clair’s breath caught in her throat and she jumped at the high-pitched sound of her name shooting across the shop.
“Clair? There you are. Is your phone off the hook?” Mary-Jane asked as she butted in on their conversation. “I’ve been trying to call you. I wanted to order some cupcakes. I’m heading over to the mayor’s house to see Sheryl. Brad mentioned when he was in the chemist the other day that she was going downhill. I know how much she loves Charlotte’s creations, so I thought I’d take a few over on my visit.”
