by Sarah Fox
“Here, home, and…at the festival?” she guessed.
“Yes. Speaking of which…” I grabbed my phone and checked the tracking information for the ornaments I’d ordered the day before. The packages had been shipped and were supposed to arrive by the end of the next day.
I showed Sienna pictures of the decorations I’d ordered, and she enthusiastically approved. By then, the fire had died down and it was getting darker outside. Rain still lashed against the windows and I was glad I’d driven my car to work.
“Did you walk here?” I asked Sienna as we pulled on our jackets.
“Yes, but I regretted it almost as soon as I was out the door.” She peered out the window with obvious reluctance.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I’ve got my car. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she said with relief.
We dashed out the back door and ran for the shelter of my car. The windshield wipers had to work vigorously, and I drove slowly because of the poor visibility. I dropped Sienna off at her place and then backtracked down the road. When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed right away that there were two extra cars parked in front of the house.
I smiled, recognizing the vehicles. Lisa Morales and Brett’s only sibling, Chloe, were here. They were my best friends, and Chloe was also my sister-in-law now.
I locked my car and ran up to the front porch. Despite my best efforts to avoid getting wet, water dripped from my hair and my jacket.
The front door opened before I had a chance to put my key in the lock. I caught a brief glimpse of Brett before a golden blur zoomed past him. Bentley let out a woof of excitement, his whole body wagging along with his tail. I crouched down to give him a hug, and received sloppy kisses in return.
I got an entirely different sort of kiss from Brett before I slipped out of my damp jacket and he shut the door on the wet and blustery evening. I followed the sound of laughter to the family room at the back of the house, where the room was lit by warm light and a fire crackled in the fireplace.
“Surprise!” Lisa barreled toward me and squeezed me in a hug. “Happy birthday!”
“Maybe a surprise.” Chloe moved in for a one-armed hug, since she was holding a purring Flapjack in the other. “But definitely happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at both of them and gave Flapjack a pat on the head. “I knew Brett had something planned, but I didn’t know what.”
Brett came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “A quiet evening in with a couple of your closest friends. I thought you’d like that. Is it all right?”
“Better than all right. It’s perfect.” I turned in his arms so I could give him a kiss.
“He probably had an ulterior motive,” Chloe said. “With just two guests, it’ll be easier to kick us out later so you can have some alone time.”
“Nobody’s going to get kicked out,” I said.
Brett grinned. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
I gave him a playful shove that failed to knock him off balance.
Lisa took my arm and tugged me farther into the family room. “Come on. Open your presents.”
“You didn’t need to get me presents,” I said.
Lisa waved off my protest. “Of course we got you presents.”
I dropped down onto the couch. Lisa took the spot next to me while Chloe settled in an armchair with Flapjack on her lap. Bentley dashed over to his bed beneath one of the windows, turning around twice before lying down.
Over in the kitchen, Brett held up a few takeout menus. “What do you want for dinner, Marley?”
“What do you all feel like?” I asked everyone.
“Whatever you want,” Chloe said. “Your birthday, your choice.”
I thought for a second. “Pizza?” I glanced at the others.
“We won’t argue,” Lisa said. “Here.” She placed a present on my lap, wrapped in shiny purple paper. “This one’s from me.”
I tore off the paper, already knowing that the best present was having the company of my husband and my two closest friends.
Chapter Eleven
After a delicious dinner delivered from Wildwood Cove’s pizza parlor, we got comfy in the family room with slices of chocolate cake from the local bakery. At Chloe and Lisa’s request, Brett and I had already recounted the story of Kevin’s murder and how we’d discovered his body. Like most of the town, they’d heard about the murder, but wanted to know how much of what they’d heard was fact and how much had turned into fiction as it got passed along the grapevine.
“I’m glad Zahra’s with Rita,” Chloe said as she balanced her plate on her knee.
“You know her?” I asked with surprise. I hadn’t mentioned Zahra by name.
Chloe licked chocolate ganache off her fork. “We took a yoga class together a few years back, when she lived in Wildwood Cove. She was in her senior year of high school at the time, so now she must be…what, twenty-three, maybe?”
“That sounds about right.” I sank my fork into the heavenly piece of chocolate cake on my plate. “She’s living in Seattle now.”
Chloe nodded as she savored a bite of cake. “We’ve kept in touch online. She’s a graphic designer for an advertising company.”
“Is Kevin her father?” Lisa asked.
“Stepfather,” Chloe replied. “Rita and Kevin married when Zahra was in high school. I think it was a bit of a whirlwind romance. Rita and Zahra had only lived here a few months when the wedding happened. Before that, the two of them lived in Los Angeles.”
Lisa directed her next question my way. “Who do you think killed him, Marley?”
“I really don’t know. I hate to think that it could have been someone who was sleeping down the hall from us at the lodge, but it could have been.”
Chloe shuddered. “That’s way too creepy.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about murder on your birthday,” Lisa said. “Is The Flip Side decorating a tree for the festival?”
I was glad for the change in subject. As much as I enjoyed mulling over mysteries and putting mental puzzle pieces together, at the moment I was far more interested in having a good time with Brett and my friends. I told Lisa and Chloe about how I’d run out of breakfast-themed decorations and what I had planned for the tree.
When I mentioned my idea of using some seashells from my collection, Chloe sat up straight.
“Ooh!” She clapped her hands together. “I’d love to help you make decorations out of shells.”
“Me too,” Lisa chimed in.
“We can start tonight.” Chloe set her empty plate on the coffee table and gently shifted a sleeping Flapjack from her lap. She stood up and settled him on the chair she’d just vacated. “After all, the festival starts in two days.”
“You guys really don’t have to do that,” I said.
Lisa was on her feet now too. “We want to.”
“You wouldn’t rather watch a movie?” I asked, wanting to be sure.
Chloe waved off the question. “We can watch a movie another night.”
“Like maybe Friday night,” Lisa said.
“Well, not this Friday.” Chloe carried her plate into the kitchen. “I’ve already got plans. But any other night.”
“Plans?” I asked, intrigued.
Lisa waggled her eyebrows at Chloe. “As in a date?”
“She’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Brett spoke up from the kitchen, where he was loading the dishwasher.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “A bit late for that. As if you’d get a say, anyway.”
“Supplies,” I said quickly, before Brett could retort. “We need supplies.”
I fetched the shells I’d already cleaned while Brett went off in search of my paints and other craft supplies that I’d stored in the main floo
r tower room. Lisa, Chloe, and I gathered at the kitchen table. After he brought me my craft supplies, Brett took Bentley out for a short nighttime walk. Flapjack continued to snooze away on the armchair, no doubt enjoying the warmth from the fire.
“I have an idea.” Chloe sorted through the shells, picking out clamshells of different sizes. “How about this?” She set a medium-sized clamshell on top of a large one, and then added a smaller one to the top of the stack. Next, she grabbed a marker and drew two dots for eyes, and several more to make a smiling mouth.
“A snowman,” I said as I realized what she was doing. “That’s so cute.”
“Adorable,” Lisa agreed.
Chloe used an orange marker to draw a carrot nose. “We can even add little hats.” She used a blue pen to do just that. To finish it off, she added three red buttons on the middle shell.
“It’s perfect,” I told her with a smile.
Chloe set down the red marker. “Now we just have to stick the shells together and add a loop of string for hanging it.”
I rummaged around in my craft box and pulled out a glue gun. With all the necessary supplies out on the table, the three of us got to work.
* * * *
Although the next day was gloomy and cold, the rain had stopped. I still drove to work because of the darkness and the damp, bone-chilling wind, but it was nice to stay dry when going to and from my car. Once again, I was glad for The Flip Side’s fireplace, and so were the customers. Several of them mentioned how cozy it was with the warmth and crackling of the fire.
An hour after the pancake house had opened, I took a moment to look out the front window. One glance was enough to make me even more glad that I’d brought my car to work. The break from the pouring rain had ended. It came down in sheets now, and the steely gray ocean looked angry and tumultuous. Even the seabirds I’d seen out there earlier had disappeared, probably to take shelter in the trees.
Brett had started back to work that morning. He was helping Pedro’s crew remodel a kitchen and bathroom in an old Victorian across town. He’d arranged to take a break midmorning so he could drop his truck off at the local garage. Lonny was over the flu that had kept him home for days, so we could finally get the windshield fixed.
After receiving a text from Brett saying that he was on the way to the garage, I left Leigh to look after The Flip Side’s customers and drove to meet him so I could give him a ride back to his worksite. He’d told me he could walk—it would only take him ten minutes or so—but in this weather, I didn’t want him to have to head back to work on foot.
When I pulled into the small parking lot next to the garage, I spotted Lonny, dressed in gray coveralls, talking with Brett just inside one of the open bay doors. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and jogged over to them.
“Hey, Lonny,” I said after giving Brett a quick kiss. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thanks,” he said. “So am I.” He ran a hand through his brown hair. “That was a nasty flu. I hope you guys can avoid getting it.”
Brett put an arm around my shoulders. “We got our flu shots. Hopefully they’ll be effective.”
“Next year I’ll be getting one of those,” Lonny said.
“So, what’s the verdict on our windshield?” I asked, noting that Brett’s silver pickup truck was already inside the garage, parked next to a dark green one.
“Shouldn’t be a problem to fix,” Lonny said. “I can have it ready for you by the end of the day.”
“Sounds good,” Brett said. “How’s Hope doing these days?”
“Crazy busy, but good. The inn was fully booked over the weekend.”
“I’m glad things have been going so well with the inn,” I said. Lonny and Hope had worked so hard to make it a success. They were such a nice couple, and I hoped business would continue to be good for them.
My gaze zeroed in on the green truck’s windshield. “Looks like this truck has the same problem as ours.”
It had a chip in the glass, a bit bigger than the one in Brett’s windshield.
“Yep.” Lonny stuck his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. “That’s not its only problem—the truck has seen better days—but the windshield crack might have happened in the same place as yours.”
“Up near Holly Lodge?” Brett asked.
Lonny nodded. “Dwight Zalecki was up in that area over the weekend. He came down on Sunday and hit a patch of loose gravel.”
“Definitely sounds like it could have happened in the same place then,” Brett said.
I barely heard him. I was too busy thinking that Dwight—the customer with a grudge against Kevin Manning—had been in the vicinity of Holly Lodge when Kevin was killed.
Chapter Twelve
I shared my thoughts with Brett as I drove the short distance to his worksite. I pulled my car up to a free space by the curb two houses down from the Victorian where Pedro’s crew was busy with renovations. It was a beautiful house, dark red with white trim and a three-story tower. It was bigger than our house, but I wasn’t envious in the least. Ours was plenty big enough, and this one didn’t have a beachfront location.
“So Dwight had motive and possibly means,” Brett said once I’d told him what I was thinking. “But why wait all this time to kill Kevin? It sounds like Dwight’s held a grudge against him for years. Wouldn’t he have been more likely to kill Kevin back when they were neighbors?”
“Possibly. But who knows what’s been going on in Dwight’s head for the past few years?”
“Good point.” Brett kissed me and unfastened his seatbelt. “I guess we can’t rule him out yet.” He opened the passenger door. “See you tonight.” He got out of the car, but then leaned back in. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He jogged through the rain to the red Victorian.
When he’d disappeared inside, I drove back to The Flip Side, arriving just in time for the start of the lunch rush. I tied my red apron around my waist and got to work. Although I scanned the room for Dwight, he wasn’t there. That wasn’t surprising, since he only showed up at the pancake house once in a while.
I did, however, see many other familiar faces, and time flew by as I took orders, delivered meals to tables, and chatted with several regular customers as well as a couple of new ones. Everyone was in a good mood, and many diners were chatting about their plans for the holidays and the town’s upcoming events, including the Festival of Trees and the town light-up. Many people were also looking forward to the holiday open house at the Wildwood Inn.
The rush was tapering off when Ambrose came in the door. I stopped in my tracks when I saw him, but then gave myself a mental kick and got moving toward the kitchen again. Ambrose paused inside the door and removed his fogged up glasses.
On my way past, I smiled at him. “Hi, Ambrose. Welcome to The Flip Side. Sit anywhere you like.”
I got the impression that he was almost as surprised to see me as I was to see him. As far as I could remember, Brett and I had never told him that we were from Wildwood Cove.
When I emerged from the kitchen, Ambrose was seated at a small table near the back of the room. I grabbed the coffee pot and headed his way.
“Coffee?” I asked when I reached his table.
He nodded. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”
I filled his mug. “I’m the owner, but I don’t think it ever came up that we were both from Wildwood Cove.”
“No. I suppose it might have, if things had gone…differently.”
“It’s terrible what happened,” I said.
“Yes, it is.” Ambrose cleared his throat and removed his glasses, blinking as he touched a finger to the corner of one eye.
He was on the verge of tears, I realized.
I set the coffee pot on the table, my heart squeezing with sympathy for him. “Did you know Kev
in well? Or was that your first visit to Holly Lodge?”
“Not my first by far.” He put his glasses back on, appearing more in control of his emotions now. “I’ve been to Holly Lodge several times over the past couple of years. The first time I stayed there, my heart was captured.” He tugged his coffee mug closer to him, but didn’t take a drink. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful up there in the mountains. I was filled with inspiration and had to go back.”
I could understand that. I was no poet, but if not for the murder, Brett and I would likely have wanted to visit Holly Lodge again in the future.
“Then I guess you know the family quite well,” I said.
“I’d say so, yes. Although, really, I know Rita better than I knew Kevin. She tends to spend more time with the guests.”
“Ambrose!”
I turned at the sound of a woman’s voice.
Lily brushed past me and dropped into the seat across from Ambrose. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” She glanced at me and did a double take. “Oh, hi! You live in Wildwood Cove?”
“For more than a year and a half now,” I said. “Coffee?”
“Earl Grey tea, please,” she requested.
“Coming right up.” I left them to read over the menu.
When I was on my way back to their table with Lily’s tea, she put a hand over Ambrose’s as he reached for his coffee mug. As I got closer, Ambrose slid his hand away from hers and shifted in his seat. Although his eyes were clear of tears now, he seemed subdued.
I set Lily’s tea on the table and took out my order pad. Ambrose asked for the cinnamon pancakes and, after a brief moment of consideration, Lily did the same. As I headed for the kitchen once again, I heard Lily chatting away brightly, her bubbly mood providing a stark contrast to Ambrose’s somber one.
* * * *
When I arrived home later that afternoon, two packages waited for me on the front porch. I opened them with excitement and a small hint of apprehension. Some of the ornaments I’d ordered were fragile, and I hoped they hadn’t broken in transit.
