by Bree Baker
He crossed his arms. “You came here to see if I killed Dunfree.”
“What?” I feigned indignation, eyes wide, mouth agape. “I was thinking of joining the Polar Bear Club.”
“Cut the act,” he said. “I’d hoped I was wrong when I found you out front, looking cute in your little coat and come-hither smile, but I wasn’t. You aren’t here to congratulate me on my new position or pedal your goods to the new man in power.”
“Gross,” I said, abhorring both his accusations equally. He wanted to be congratulated for a position he’d gained through another man’s murder? And he thought that news of that new position was enough to bring me running?
“If you really want to get someone arrested for Dunfree’s death,” he said, “talk to your great-aunt Fran. She hated him, argued with him, and opposed everything he stood for. She did all those things openly and regularly at council meetings. She even started that Charmers for Change group to make it seem like she had a backing, but she never fooled me. I saw through her act too. The only Charmer for Change was her.” His cell phone lit on the desk beside his arm, and he yanked it up before I could read the screen. “Excuse me.”
He rose from his chair and strode past me to the door. “I’m just finishing with a guest,” he told the caller, then stared pointedly at me until I stood.
I opened my mouth to proclaim Aunt Fran’s innocence but thought better of it. Arguing with Mary Grace hadn’t changed her opinion, and it would take more than my word to set Chairman Vanders straight. Somehow I doubted he ever admitted to being wrong on any topic.
I marched out, chin high, and stopped when the door closed behind me. I ducked out of Vanders’s view through the little window on his office door and took a minute to pick through the piles of Mayor Dunfree’s things before I left.
I thumbed stacks of old festival posters and cutout newspaper articles on local events. Rolled fishing maps were propped in the corner beside giant wooden lures and bobbers meant to be hung on the walls as art. Encyclopedias. Old storefront signs from businesses long gone. Nothing too personal, but the items were all clearly special to Dunfree or he wouldn’t have kept them all these years. I snapped a few pictures for Grady, then texted him the suggestion of letting Mrs. Dunfree know about the office castoffs before the charity arrived to pick them up.
Grady responded to my text before I could get the phone back into my pocket.
What are you doing in Dunfree’s office?
I wrinkled my nose at the message. I should have anticipated the response, but Vanders had thrown me off my game.
I peeped through the window on Vanders’s door to see if he was looking, or if I’d have to duck-walk past. Vanders wasn’t in there. I moved closer and gave the room a thorough exam from my side of the glass. No one.
Apparently the coast was clear.
I waved to Maven on my way out. “Thanks again,” I said, approaching her desk with a smile.
“I hope he behaved himself,” she said. “I hate to send anyone in there alone with him. He’s such a scoundrel.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” I assured her, “but I think he might be a magician. I looked back into the office a few minutes after he sent me out, and he was gone.”
“He does that,” she said. “There’s a second door. Mayor Dunfree covered it with the painting of Charm, but it leads to a hallway with a private access bathroom and an exit.”
Interesting.
I thanked her again and headed for the door before responding to Grady’s text.
I’m not there, I replied. I was on the sidewalk.
Vanders’s Jeep was still at the curb, so he hadn’t made a great escape.
Several hurried steps later, the toe of my boot caught on something hard in the snow and tossed it down the sidewalk ahead of me.
I froze and stared, unbelieving, as a busted gnome’s head rolled awkwardly off the curb and into a slush puddle.
I pulled my gaze across the sidewalk to find other gnomes waiting for me, all arranged in the snow outside my ride. I recognized them from the box I’d left on Blue’s backseat. These figures weren’t broken like the others, but they’d each been vandalized with heavy black marker strokes in the shape of an exaggerated V between their eyes. Below the angry eyebrows, someone had drawn jagged, zigzag lines over their former rosebud mouths. All the figures had been splashed with red paint.
* * *
Grady arrived three minutes later. He’d already been on his way after my text, making sure I’d left as promised and that I hadn’t caused a stir while I’d visited.
It was as if he didn’t trust me at all.
“Talk me through this again,” he said, dropping the last of the angry gnomes into an evidence bag.
I repeated my lame story about cookie deliveries in the name of holiday cheer and tried not to choke on the lie.
He stuffed the final evidence bag into his duffel with a sigh. “It’s getting weird in the evidence locker at the station. All those gnome parts on shelves, and now these.” The corners of his mouth pulled down. “It’s enough to give a guy nightmares.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “Will you have these checked for prints?” I asked. “Aunt Clara and I painted them last night, so you should find both of our prints on them.”
He nodded. “I’ll have them sent to the lab after I return to the station.”
I crossed my arms over my middle, stomach churning with the overdose of adrenaline my body had produced at first sight of the evil gnome army. “Did you let the Dunfrees know about the mayor’s keepsakes?” I asked, hoping for a change of subject and dying to blurt out the real reason I was there. To snoop. Exactly the thing Grady had asked me not to do, and look at what had happened.
“I’ll share the news when I see Mrs. Dunfree this afternoon.” He gripped the back of his neck in one hand and dropped his chin to his chest.
“You okay?” I asked, inching closer. Adrenaline pumped through my veins like a gallon of black coffee. Seeing Grady, the most calm and steadfast man I knew, looking so miserable twisted and pulled at my insides. “Did something happen?”
Grady raised his head and locked his gaze to mine, the tight expression in his jaw slowly lost its edge. “What were you really doing here?”
I wet my lips, mortified by my initial fib. It was time to come clean. “I was delivering cookies.” That part was true. “But I only brought them so I could find out what Chairman Vanders thought of Mayor Dunfree. When I learned Vanders was handed the position in Dunfree’s absence, I couldn’t help wondering if Vanders might have opted to skip the campaigning and just take what he wanted.”
“And?” Grady asked.
“Inconclusive,” I said. “I don’t particularly like him as a person. He’s a womanizer and probably a liar, but I can’t say for sure about him being a murderer.” I shook my head at the memory of our chat. “He said he missed my Christmas party because he was camping with his Polar Bear Club. I’m not convinced Charm has one of those.”
Grady raised his eyes to the building behind me, then leveled me with his gaze once more. “Did he say or do something to you?” he asked, his voice low and tight.
I frowned. “Yeah, he said he was camping with his Polar Bear Club.”
Grady groaned. “Not what I meant, Swan.”
I took a minute to retrace my words. “Oh. No. He did a weird thing with the ribbon from my cookie box, but other than that, he was just vaguely chauvinistic.”
Grady’s brows tented. “You’ve got to stop doing this or I’m going to get an ulcer.”
“Hey,” I caught his gloved hand in mine. “I wasn’t hurt, and I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I had no idea I’d upset the gnome bandit by coming here.” I waved a hand toward the black duffel full of angry figurines. “I’d just wanted to see if Vanders and Dunfree had gotten along, and ask Vanders who
he thought might have had motivation to hurt his predecessor.”
Grady rocked his head to one side, allowing me to keep hold of his hand. “What’d he say?”
My face puckered on instinct. “He said Fran probably did it.”
Grady rubbed a hand against his mouth to cover a smile. “Care to tell me more about why you believe he’s a womanizer and what exactly he did with that cookie box?”
I laughed. “Maybe, some time.”
“How’s now?” he asked, tugging playfully on my hand. “May I buy you a hot chocolate, Everly?”
Chapter Fourteen
The local ice cream shop was quiet when Grady and I arrived. It was barely past breakfast and too early for shoppers in search of lunch. Sandy’s Seaside Sweet Shack had become a staple in the community, but the busiest time of day was after dinner in any season. At barely ten in the morning, we had the place to ourselves.
Grady had insisted I grab a seat while he order and pay for the hot chocolates, so I’d selected a tall round table with long silver legs and two matching chairs. The interior decor was quirky, vintage beach-chic. Fifty percent sock hop, fifty percent seaside, and one hundred percent fun. The furniture was straight out of a diner in Grease, but the napkins on the tables were stored in small, brightly colored sand pails instead of the classic metal boxes. Long boards and boat oars hung on the walls beside framed vinyl records. Peppy holiday music rocked through cleverly hidden speakers and sand clung to the large black-and-white tile flooring most months of the year, thanks to the close beach proximity.
Grady approached the table with two steaming mugs and a smile. “Sorry that took forever. The cashier asked about Denver. She’s missed seeing him, and he’s normally a regular in here.”
“Too cold for ice cream?” I guessed, unsure what could keep Denver away from his favorite shop.
He passed me a mug without answering and took the seat across from me.
“You really didn’t have to pay,” I said. “Thank you, though, and cheers.” I lifted my mug and waited for him to tap his drink to mine.
“Cheers,” he agreed. “I think I’m behind on owing you drinks. I don’t think you’ve let me pay for anything at your café. Ever.”
I grinned. “I just like to feed people,” I said. “It makes me happy. Especially when I can tell they’re enjoying every bite. I wouldn’t charge anyone if I didn’t have a mortgage to pay.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said.
His warm smile set off a swarm of butterflies in my core, and I set a hand on my middle to stop them. My attraction to Grady had been difficult enough to deal with when we’d first met and I didn’t know him. Now that I could see beyond the unreasonably handsome face and general hubba-hubba exterior, my reactions had gotten significantly worse. “What’s Denver been up to?” I asked, circling back to the reason my favorite Charmer child hadn’t been out for ice cream in a while and hoping to redirect my thoughts from Grady’s stunning smile. Plus, Denver was always a source of interest for me. He was a huge personality in a pint-sized package, complete with his daddy’s clear gray eyes and adorable dimple. “Was he okay when you got home last night?”
Grady twisted his mug on the table between his palms. “He was fine. He’s a tough little guy. Denise had him baking when I left this morning.” He lifted his gaze to mine. An odd expression was on his unreadable face. “His grades were down at school, and Denise thought he might be losing interest. So she did some troubleshooting and found a way to engage him. They practice reading and math skills in the kitchen. When he reads the recipes without help and completes the measurements as required, she lets him take the finished products to school and share with his class. Needless to say, his grades are soaring and so is his popularity among Charm children.” Pride emanated from his words and seemed to reach across the table to fill my chest as well. “They made your seven-layer bars from the video you posted.”
“What?” I set my mug down with an awkward clatter. Heat rushed over my face. Denise and Denver watched my cookie-making video. “Did you watch it?” I asked cautiously, feeling like a complete moron for posting it to begin with. I wasn’t a cute, co-ed culinary school student anymore. I was…well, different.
I let the question rattle around in my mind. So much had changed in a single year, and most of me was still reeling from the force of it all. I’d accepted Wyatt’s rejection, then he’d moved home and pledged to make up for having hurt me. I’d sworn off love, then Grady had arrived and confused me. Add in the number of times I’d been stalked, attacked, or nearly killed this year, and I had to wonder: Was I still the kind of woman who made how-to-bake videos? I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be, and I hoped that was enough.
Grady watched me silently with that look that always made me wonder if he could somehow read my mind. “I was the one who told Denise about the video,” he said. “It was good. Are you planning to do more?”
I blinked. Grady had already told me that he subscribed to my website’s updates. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he’d watched the video, but it did. And he thought it was good. I struggled not to smile as the feeling of pride returned. “I’ve always wanted to create a video library,” I said, pulling my attention away from his smart gray eyes so I could think more clearly. “As a teen I’d wanted to be one of those celebrity chefs who hates everything she tastes until she suddenly finds the most amazing dessert under heaven and makes that baker a star.” I waved a dismissive hand and laughed. “All that changed after I started culinary school and had the opportunity to be the one called out for her terrible work. I knew then, what I’d probably always known. I never want to be the kind of person who makes someone else feel bad.”
Grady’s lips tipped into a barely there smile.
I unbuttoned my coat, suddenly overheated by the hot chocolate. “How’s it going with Senator Denver?” I asked, directing the focus off me before I rambled on about some other personal and irrelevant thing.
The mention of his mother-in-law did the trick. “She’s stifling,” he said. “She’s unimpressed with Denver’s rearing for starters.” He made finger quotes around the word rearing. “And she hates the idea of him living on an island. There aren’t enough choices. No private schools. No Trader Joe’s.”
“We don’t need a Whole Foods Market because everyone gardens,” I said.
He looked at me as if I’d sprouted a new head. “Can you imagine Olivia Denver in a sun hat and filthy gloves?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Neither can she.” He laughed. “She’s insistent that it’s my fault she’s forced to stay here, but I didn’t invite her.”
“She’s unhappy, but she plans to stay and run for mayor?” I asked, puzzled.
“Politics is in her blood,” he said, “and she’s an equal opportunity complainer.”
I laughed.
Grady stiffened. His expression went flat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to rant. A simple, ‘she’s fine’ would’ve been the sane answer.”
“I wasn’t looking for sane,” I said as kindly as I could, knowing he must feel exposed right now, exactly the way I had after going on about being a celebrity chef. “I was looking for honest.” I offered him a warm smile.
Grady released a labored breath. “I’ve got to tell you something.”
The timbre of his voice stood the fine hairs along my neck and arms at attention. I couldn’t find the words to ask what it was, so I sat frozen in wait.
He leaned forward over the table between us. “Olivia wants me to move back to Virginia and reopen her husband’s case.”
I felt my eyes widen in shock. Her husband’s case. What did that mean? Could he still be alive? Did she know he was alive? Is that why she hadn’t had a funeral for him? If so, where was he? “What?”
“I said I wouldn’t move. Denver and I like it here, and I won’t uproot him again. And I said no to rej
oining the Marshals. I didn’t like who I was then. Denver deserves better than some strung-out, workaholic father more focused on an elusive fugitive than the son right in front of him. I won’t ruin this life for us. Not even for Mr. Denver.”
My chest warmed, and I realized some part of me had always assumed Grady would leave one day. He’d told me once that he’d come to Charm to heal, and it was obvious he and Denver were doing great. But he wasn’t leaving. He didn’t want to. “You’re staying?” I asked, needing to hear him say the words again.
“I’m staying.” Grady slid his hand across to table in my direction, then stopped, seeming to think better of it. He curled his fingers, then dropped the fist onto his lap.
The almost touch left my heart in a sputter and my mind on something else his mother-in-law had said. “When your mother-in-law was in for tea the other night, she mentioned something that’s stuck with me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”
“About Denise,” I began timidly, realizing that I had no right to ask about his personal relationships no matter how badly I wanted to. “She said Denise was handpicked for you.”
Grady gave a stiff nod. “That’s right. Olivia assured me that Denise was the best. I wasn’t in any kind of shape to make decisions after Amy died, and I was too mired in grief to care. I wasn’t the father I should have been. I’ve told you that, but Olivia never judged. She did a good job assigning Denise.”
I lifted a finger. “See, that’s the thing. You and Senator Denver both say Denise is on assignment. It’s a weird way to talk about an au pair.” I shifted in my seat, not wanting to continue, but I’d said too much to stop now. He’d know I had more to ask, and the whole thing would become more awkward. “Also, the senator said Denise was chosen for you both.”
He nodded, eyebrows knitted. “She was assigned to care for us,” he said. “She does everything for the both of us.”
Heat flamed in my cheeks. I bit into the thick of my lower lip and cringed. “Does she?”
