by Amber Crewes
“Meghan?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin as Claude walked up behind her. Without his fancy chef hat, he was nearly unrecognizable in his street clothes, and the dark, heavy bags underneath his eyes suggested that he had not slept well.
“Claude,” she said softly.
“What a small world,” Claude replied as he raised an eyebrow at her. This is a lonely little place to be, all alone, so early in the morning.”
Meghan pointed at the Pacific Ocean. “The waves always calm me,” she told him as the dark blue water crashed along the beach. “After last night, I needed some peace.”
Claude stared into Meghan’s eyes. “The ball was never going to go on again after last night,” he declared as Meghan looked down at her feet. “The Governor’s Ball is forever ruined, marked by the death of Paula Brown.”
Meghan shook her head. “It is so sad,” she said. “Such a tragedy.”
“Indeed it was,” he agreed. “So unexpected for her to pass away. It is strange, though, Meghan. I have heard that she had only been at the event for a short time, and knowing Paula personally, I know that she does not eat on days she attends events. The only food she would have had at the ball would have been the Welcome Tarts set out at the head table. The tarts that you happened to make…”
Meghan’s body grew cold as she processed Claude’s words. “What exactly are you trying to say to me?” she asked as Fiesta and Siesta skipped through the water.
Claude sighed. “I’m not saying anything, Meghan Truman,” he haughtily replied. “But I can say that your treats had been served to Paula, and she had taken a bite of her tart. Kirsty Fisher told me that. And I can also tell you that that fact alone makes you look very, very interesting to the police, Meghan.”
Meghan shook her head. “I didn’t make the tarts,” she argued. “My team arrived at the event hours before I did; they used my recipe, but I didn’t personally make the tarts, Claude. And who is to say that the tarts had anything to do with her death?”
Claude bit his lip. “I’m not saying that. But, I did check on your team in the kitchen early in the day, and that assistant of yours? Trudy? Well, she should be called Broody Trudy; her attitude was terrible, and she lacked professionalism. Meghan. I’m just saying, if Broody Trudy had gotten angry and wanted to frame you, or wanted to do away with Paula for the fun of it, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
“That is enough.”
Jack Irvin walked up to Claude and Meghan, his own dog, Dash, barking happily at Fiesta and Siesta. “Claude, that is enough; the Sandy Bay Police Department is investigating Paula’s death, and it is inappropriate of you to say such things to Meghan.”
Meghan raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Hey, Jack,” she said coolly. “Nice to see you here today.”
Claude looked between Meghan and Jack. “I sense some trouble in paradise with you two lovebirds,” he declared in his thick accent.
Jack cocked his head to the side. “Trouble?”
Claude winked at Jack. “I would be in trouble too if I had been paying attention to gorgeous auburn-haired ladies instead of my own date.
Jack’s jaw dropped. “Meghan? What is he talking about?”
Meghan crossed her arms across her chest and said nothing. Claude grinned antagonistically. “She didn’t say anything, but I saw this lady’s date chatting with someone else last night just before Paula dropped dead. Perhaps you two have some talking to do.”
Jack frowned. “Meghan, I was talking to another woman, but you should have come over to say hello. It was Michelle. We were catching up, and she wanted to meet you.”
Meghan glared at Jack. “After I saw her kiss your cheek, I didn’t think that I should interrupt your conversation,” she pouted.
Jack gasped. “Meghan,” he said in shock. “I told you that Michelle is one of my old friends. There’s nothing between us. She gave me a friendly peck. It was nothing.”
“For it being nothing, someone sounds rather defensive,” Claude sneered as Meghan crossed her arms across her chest.
“Look, man,” Jack said as he turned to address Claude. “This is between us. Besides, you were summoned down to the police station for some initial questioning; if you say one more word, I’ll take you down there in handcuffs.”
Claude waved a hand dismissively. “Please,” he muttered. “You Americans…”
Jack puffed up his chest. “What did you say to me? Say it to my face.”
Meghan stepped between the two men, nearly choking on the thick, musky scent of Claude’s cologne. “Stop it,” Meghan ordered as she placed a hand on Jack’s chest and tried to shoo Claude away. “This is ridiculous. Claude, the police will get to the bottom of Paula’s death. Stop asking me questions and making matters worse. Jack, you and I need to have a private conversation. Why don’t you just go on home, and we can talk later.”
Claude turned on his expensive heeled leather shoes and stormed away. Jack looked sadly at Meghan.
“Meghan…”
Meghan put a finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” she demanded. “Don’t talk to me right now. My night and my dreams for the evening were destroyed, and you didn’t make anything better. Right now, I wouldn’t mind if I never had to look at you again, Jack Irvin.”
6
That evening, Meghan was desperate to get out of her terrible mood. She had tried all of her usual tricks; from taking a long bubble bath, to a cozy cup of jasmine tea, to indulging in chocolate covered cherries, her favorite candy, nothing was helping to settle her spirits. She was annoyed by Claude’s not-so-veiled suggestion that she had had something to do with Paula Brown’s death, she was upset that Jack had been too preoccupied with catching up with Michelle to be by her side at the ball, and she was devastated that the event had ended not with her business gaining even more attention, but that someone had perished without warning and the Governor’s Ball was now considered a tragedy.
As Meghan lay beneath her goose feather comforter, she breathed in deeply as the sound of the rain pulled her into a state of relaxation. It was a dreary evening; the air was bitterly cold, and the rain pounded upon the roof of Meghan’s apartment. “I have to pull myself out of this funk,” she murmured to herself as Fiesta licked her ankle. “I’ve wasted too much time today being grumpy; last night was not what I expected, but I need to pull it together. I know what I will do. I will march myself downstairs and work on a new recipe. I’ve been dreaming of experimenting with strawberry extract and fresh basil for a batch of scones, and what better time to try something new.
Ten minutes later, Meghan was happily kneading dough and singing to herself as she dreamed of a delicious new way to bake her famous scones. As she cut the tops off of the enormous, juicy red strawberries she had specially purchased from an organic farm in Mexico, she heard a knock at the door.
“Who could that be?” she wondered aloud as she walked to the yellow door and peered out of the peephole. A short, plump man looked up at her, and she opened the door. “Can I help you? We’re closed tonight.”
The man shrugged. “It’s cold and rainy,” he said, adjusting the collar of his tan trenchcoat. “Any chance you could spare a cup of coffee for a drenched stranger?”
Meghan saw that the man was covered in rain. Her heart sank as she thought of turning him away, and she stepped back to gesture him inside. “Come on in,” she warmly invited the man. “I don’t have any fresh coffee, but I do have some jasmine tea, my favorite.”
“Perfect,” the man breathed as he took a seat at one of the little white iron tables in the dining area. “I’ve been trying to find something that’s open all night, and this town is dead.”
“I’m not surprised,” Meghan admitted as she delivered the steaming cup of tea to the man. “With what happened at the Governor’s Ball that night, a lot of people in town have closed down their businesses for the next few days.”
The man leaned in, raising an eyebrow and placing his hand on his chin as he listened intently. “C
an you tell me more about what happened? I’m not really from here…”
Meghan sat down at the table across from the man. “Don’t mind if I ramble,” Meghan said as she leaned back in her seat. “It’s been a tough twenty-four hours, and if you don’t mind, I would love to just vent.”
The man smiled. “Go on. I’m here to listen.”
Meghan tucked her dark hair behind her ears and continued. “It all started when I was asked to make the desserts for the event. Then I found out that my stupid boyfriend, Jack, had gotten tickets to the ball from……”
************
“I’m glad we could do this,” Jack said cautiously as Meghan sipped her caramel latte. “I know this is your favorite coffee shop, and I thought a cozy little coffee date would be the perfect place to talk things through.”
It was the morning after Meghan had opened the bakery to the stranger, and after a pleading voicemail from Jack, along with a barrage of text messages and emails, Meghan had agreed to meet with him in person to discuss the Governor’s Ball.
“It was really nothing, Meghan,” he assured her as she crossed her left leg over her right leg and stiffened in her seat. “Michelle is just an old pal. You have to believe me.”
Meghan shook her head. “It just looked like an awfully familiar moment between the pair of you,” she informed her boyfriend as he sat nervously across from her. “The kiss she gave you…I didn’t like it, Jack.”
Jack buried his head in his hands, and Meghan saw his shoulders begin to shake. “I’m so sorry, Meghan,” he whimpered. “I should have introduced the two of you before the event. I should have stayed by your side and followed closely behind when Claude whisked you away. This is all my fault.”
Meghan felt the warm rush of relief; Jack knew that he had made a mistake, and he was admitting to his poor decision-making, as well as providing a satisfactory apology. Meghan could see that he was upset, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around Jack and comfort him.
“Hey, Meghan? Saw you in the paper this morning. Have you seen this?”
Meghan shook her head as Stanley, the owner of her favorite coffee shop, slapped a newspaper on the table in front of her. “Check this out, Meghan,” Stanley said with a stern look in his eye.
Jack snatched the paper from Meghan and began to read the article. “Sitting in her bakery, all alone on a cold, dreary night, Meghan Truman should have been comforted by her boyfriend, local detective Jack Irvin,” Jack read aloud.
“What is this?” Meghan asked. “What on Earth? Is this a satire?”
Jack continued, “Meghan Truman had a lot to say about the night of the Governor’s Ball. She had a lot to say about Paula Brown, the former Miss Texas and now late wife to our beloved Governor. She had a lot to say about her bakery, and her hopes and dreams for Truly Sweet, a treasured establishment in downtown Sandy Bay. Meghan Truman also had a lot to say about her boyfriend, and his lack of good judgement on the night of the ball.”
Meghan stared at Jack, her dark eyes wide as his face turned red. “Jack? I have no idea where this came from….”
Meghan reached over and grabbed the newspaper from Jack. She glanced down at the author’s name, and when she saw the author’s tiny headshot in the corner of the page, she shrieked. “That was the man in the bakery last night!”
Jack stood up. “What man? Are you serious, Meghan? You got angry that I said hello to an old friend, and then you blabbed about me to some guy at your bakery?”
Meghan shook her head. “I didn’t know he was a reporter,” she protested as Jack turned to walk toward the door. “I thought he was a customer at Truly Sweet.”
Jack stopped. “You talk about me like this to customers?” he asked as Meghan’s eyes filled with tears.
“No, Jack, please understand. It was a long day, and this stranger wandered into the bakery. I didn’t know he was a reporter. I started chatting with him, and after everything that happened, I just lost it and began to vent. I don’t talk about you to other people, I promise.”
Jack scoffed. “It sure looks like you did some damage with this article, Meghan. I am humiliated. I am leaving. We can talk about this later.”
Meghan tugged on Jack’s sleeve. “Jack, please,” she begged as Jack walked to the door. “Don’t leave like this; I didn’t mean what I said about you. I was just angry.”
Jack frowned. “I’m still humiliated. I don’t want to talk about this any further in public, Meghan. I’ll call you tomorrow, or maybe the next day, and we can settle things then.”
Meghan began to sob as Jack left the coffee shop. Stanley, who had been watching the encounter from his station at the register, came to Meghan’s side. “Meghan?”
Meghan sniffled. “Yeah, Stanley?”
Stanley grimaced. “That was a scene, Meghan, and I can’t have a scene in my establishment. You’re going to need to go.”
Meghan’s jaw dropped. “You’re kicking me out?”
Stanley nodded. “Sorry, but this is a no-drama zone, Meghan. That looked like a lot of drama to me.”
Meghan gathered her red purse and her latte and walked outside. She shivered as the freezing air hit her skin, and she balled her hands into fists thinking of the life she left behind in Los Angeles to move to Sandy Bay. “Los Angeles was a no-drama zone,” Meghan muttered as she walked home. “I moved to this town hoping for a fresh start, expecting a small town to be sweet and pleasant, not filled with unexpected deaths, murders, and my reputation constantly on the line. I’m sick of all of this! If something doesn’t change, I am of half a mind to pack up my things and leave Sandy Bay for good.
7
“The sun is unusually bright today,” Jacqueline complained as she adjusted her sunglasses across her ski-slope nose. “It’s winter in the Pacific Northwest, and the sun is practically blinding me.”
Meghan adjusted the green woolen scarf she had wound around her neck. “I’m not complaining,” she told Jackie as the two women stood together in Sandy Bay Square. “It’s warmer than it usually is, and if we are going to stand outside in the winter all afternoon, I would much rather the day be too sunny than too chilly.”
Meghan and Jacqueline stood amongst hundreds of Sandy Bay residents for a special ceremony that had been hastily scheduled to memorialize Paula Brown. The governor himself had traveled back to Sandy Bay to dedicate a plaque in the square in honor of his late wife, and the entire town had gathered for the ceremony.
“You know, it is bright out here,” Meghan admitted as she shielded her eyes from the bright sunshine. “It feels a little wrong to have such a somber ceremony on a beautiful day.”
“I can’t believe Governor Brown is out and about so soon after his wife passed away,” Jacqueline whispered into Meghan’s ear as Kirsty Fisher approached the platform that had been set up in the middle of the square.
“Attention, everyone,” Kirsty called out in a quivering voice as she ascended the platform and stepped forward to speak into the microphone. “Good afternoon. My name is Kirsty Fisher, and I was one of Paula’s closest friends.”
Meghan raised an eyebrow at Jacqueline. “Were they really?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “Maybe in Kirsty’s mind…you know how she likes to put on airs!”
Meghan giggled, but then silenced herself upon seeing the stern look from the couple standing next to her.
“The tragedy of Paula’s death is unforgettable, but we have gathered here today to commemorate her passing with something special. The Governor has brought a special plaque to dedicate to Paula’s memory. I thank you all for being here today, and I hope that we can all send our thoughts and good wishes to the governor at this time.”
The Governor appeared behind Kirsty, and she kissed him on both cheeks. Meghan noticed that he looked exhausted; with dark, deep bags beneath his eyes, and red, swollen eyes, Meghan’s heart ached for the governor, despite his wife’s rudeness toward her at the ball.
“Thank you, Kristy,”
Governor Brown said as Kirsty wiped a tear from her eye with a monogrammed handkerchief.
“See?” Jackie muttered. “If his wife and Kirsty were truly dear friends, surely the governor would know her name….”
“Shhhhhh,” Meghan hushed as the Governor continued.
“Paula had a vibrant, exciting life; she was Miss Texas, she was a film star, and most recently, she was my beloved wife and the first-lady of our state….”
“Excuse me? Meghan Truman?”
Meghan jumped as someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around and squinted; the sun was directly in her eyes, and she could hardly make out the figure in front of her. Meghan could tell it was a woman, and she held a hand in front of her face to shield it from the bright light.
