Meltdown in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  And I waited some more.

  And then some more.

  Finally, sleep overcame me.

  It wasn’t exactly the night I’d been hoping for.

  “Well, after stopping at Dairy Queen, Billy was insistent that he should arrive home when he was a little drier. Apparently, he didn’t think his mother was going to be too happy about her son showing up so inebriated. I should have just made him go home, but I don’t know… he seemed like he needed a friend tonight. He seemed troubled by something.”

  “Yeah – by a whole keg of beer, I’d say.”

  Daniel chuckled.

  “Not just that. He seemed a little depressed. But he wouldn’t tell me about what. I’m thinking it must be about a girl.”

  I sighed, gazing out the window. Small flakes were showering down from the reddened sky. The meadow was now covered in snow.

  “Poor Billy. He ought to move out,” I said.

  Billy, who was in his late 20s, still lived with his mother. He said he lived at home to take care of her, but everyone in town knew that Marilyn Jasper could take perfectly good care of herself. She was the type who would probably live until 100, hating nearly every day of it.

  “Yeah, it’d be good for him,” Daniel said in agreement. “I imagine that she’s not an easy person to live with. When I dropped him off, she was there at the door waiting for him. She was looking mighty angry, too.”

  I turned over to face him. His cheeks were red with the cold.

  I rubbed his arms, trying to warm him up.

  “Sorry again it took so long,” he said. “I wanted to bring you back a burger or something, but it would have been half-frozen by the time I got here.”

  “It’s probably for the best, anyway,” I said. “I’ve been eating like a bear in autumn these past few weeks. If I keep going at this rate, I’m gonna need a whole new wardrobe.”

  Daniel smiled, reaching for my hip and pulling me closer to him.

  “I was hoping that you’d need that soon, anyway.”

  He grazed his fingers delicately over my stomach.

  I smiled back, feeling a warm, loving feeling spill out from my chest.

  “Soon enough, Mr. Brightman,” I said. “But first, Ireland.”

  We’d talked about it and both agreed – we’d start trying after our trip this February.

  He leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on the ridge of my nose.

  “I can’t wait.”

  Neither could I.

  For both things.

  Chapter 20

  I stomped my boots free of snow and then unlocked the back door of the pie shop. I flipped on the light switch, plugged in the Christmas bulbs, and pre-heated the ovens. I slid out of my jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. A puddle began forming on the floor beneath it almost immediately.

  It’d been a bear getting out of the driveway earlier. The ice crystals had turned to snow overnight, and small flakes had been silently accumulating all through the evening. I didn’t know the exact amount of accumulation, but I did know that Daniel spent over an hour digging the driveway clear of the white stuff for me this morning.

  The storm had hit Christmas River pretty hard, and as I drove to the shop in the early morning darkness, the streets looked unfamiliar and completely foreign under the thick layer of snow.

  I stood in front of the ovens, rubbing my hands together, blowing hard on them, trying to get some feeling back.

  If the local weatherman was to be believed, the heavy snowfall overnight was only the beginning of the nastiness to come in the next couple of days. More snow, possibly a blizzard, was on its way. Maybe even an ice storm.

  It looked like we were in for a hairy time of it, all right.

  I went over to the stereo, put on Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Come Darkness, Come Light, and then began brewing a pot of strong coffee. I hoped the uplifting music and rich aroma of the sputtering brew would soothe my nerves.

  I always worried lately when big storms rolled in. And especially since the big blower last year – the one that trapped me and nearly the whole town at the culinary school during the Chocolate Championship Showdown. I worried about Daniel driving out in those treacherous conditions. I worried about Warren getting caught out in the snow while making a beer delivery. I worried about Kara driving up to the Writing Lodge by herself.

  I used to like when big storms rolled into town. But the more of them I saw, the less I enjoyed them.

  And for some reason, I’d woken up with a bad feeling about this one.

  I grabbed my favorite Christmas mug from off one of the hooks and poured myself a big cup of that sputtering coffee. Then I got to work on mixing up a quick batch of gingerbread.

  Brad was coming over this morning to begin real work on his Gingerbread Junction entry, and if I was smart, I’d be sure to make up lots and lots of dough in case things fell apart during the house-building.

  Which, given his track record, was an almost sure bet.

  I began combining the dry ingredients and my mind went back to the storm as a wicked breeze caused the boards of the shop to groan.

  The image of Daniel’s truck spinning out of control over an embankment played in my mind’s eye.

  I shook my head.

  I had to stop scaring myself like this. This was Daniel’s job, and I knew when I married him that some of it would involve risk. I had to get a hold of these thoughts now while I still could. Because one day soon, when we had a family, these kinds of worries would only get worse and I—

  Just then, the back door to the shop blew open and an icy draft came surging in.

  I spun around.

  It was only Brad.

  I guess the storm had me feeling a little jumpy.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, trying to not let on how jarred I was. “Glad you made it.”

  Brad stepped inside, looking just about half-frozen. I went over and started taking his snow-dusted jacket from him so that it wouldn’t get the floor all wet.

  “I’m only just getting started on the gingerbread,” I said. “You’re a little early, but I like that. It shows heart.”

  I hung his jacket up on the coat rack and then went back over to the bowl of dry ingredients.

  “Cin, I came over the moment I—”

  “So Kara was here yesterday,” I said, using a sifter to refine the flour – one of my tricks for making strong, even cookie walls. “She said something strange about you.”

  “Cin, I can’t believe—”

  “She mentioned that you had some story about the seventh grade,” I said, looking up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Care to share?”

  His mouth suddenly dropped.

  “Wha.. what…?”

  The color drained from his face.

  “That’s… that’s something for another time,” he said. “But, Cin. I’m not here for building gingerbread houses this morning. I came here the second I heard.”

  I studied him for a long, puzzled moment.

  Something was obviously very wrong. And it wasn’t just the storm.

  “Heard what?”

  He looked off to the side, readjusting his dark framed glasses. He seemed uncomfortable.

  I felt my hands start to perspire.

  Did he know something I didn’t? Was there news about Warren or Daniel or Kara or maybe it was—

  “I just want you to know that I’m on your side, Cin. And whatever you might need during all of this, I’m here for you. I know I’m not as close to you as Kara is, but I’m good when it comes to this kind of stuff. I just want you to know: I’m here for you.”

  I stopped pressing down on the sifter.

  “I appreciate that, Brad. But what are you talking about?”

  “For the record, I never did think much of that redhead. She’s got homewrecker written all over her. And I don’t care what she might have been through, she never fooled me. Not for one second.”

  My throat went bone dry.

  I must have looked more con
fused than a turkey walking around free the Friday after Thanksgiving.

  “You really haven’t heard, Cin?”

  “No. I’ve been here all morning.”

  “People are talking, Cin. Everyone in town is talking.”

  Butterflies the size of baseballs began fluttering around in my gut.

  “About what?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “About what, Brad?”

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  He drew in a deep breath.

  “About Daniel and Liv. And how he’s been embezzling money from the Sheriff’s Office so that they can run away together and…”

  He looked at me with big, sad eyes.

  “How she’s going to have his baby.”

  Chapter 21

  Brad must have had too much beer at the fundraiser the night before.

  That was what I thought. At first. And although what Brad had said shocked me, I laughed it off and told him that it wasn’t true and that he must have misunderstood whatever people were saying.

  But to my horror, things didn’t stop there.

  All morning, the condolences poured in.

  “Cin, I just heard. Are you okay? It can’t be true, can it?” Tiana said when she arrived for her shift, looking at me with a worried, motherly expression.

  “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know,” Deb Dulany, who had stopped by before a house showing, had said.

  “That SOB will get his, don’t you worry, Cinnamon,” Marty Higgins, the town handyman, had said, calling me to offer his condolences about my marriage falling apart in such a spectacular fashion.

  And then, if that wasn’t bad enough, the whispering out in the dining room went on all morning. Anytime I went out there to put more pies in the glass case or make more coffee, an eerie hush fell over the whole place. Like an angel was passing through.

  The entire town was talking of nothing else and it all made me feel sicker than a dog that had gotten into the food pantry while the owners were away.

  Perhaps the worst thing in all of it was that Daniel wasn’t answering his phone and had yet to return any of my calls.

  I knew better than to jump to conclusions. Daniel and I had been through a lot together. He knew my past – knew what I’d been through with Evan.

  He wouldn’t ever betray me like that.

  But still…

  I really wished he’d just call me back.

  At around 10 a.m., I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

  I went over to the coat rack and switched out my apron for my big down jacket.

  “Do you mind taking over here for a little while, Tiana?” I said, slipping into my coat and then quickly retying the laces of my snow boots.

  “Of course, but where are you—”

  “I have something I need to do.”

  I pulled on my mittens, opened the back door, and headed out into the storm.

  Chapter 22

  “He’s out on a call right now,” she said, looking up at me with a blank, unfeeling expression.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  There was a shrill desperation in my voice, and I was sure she could hear it.

  “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  Normally, she would have narrowed her eyes and given me the cold shoulder after that. But today, Liv wasn’t looking too well. She looked queasy, and when she spoke, she seemed to be unsure of her words.

  I gathered she’d had a morning very similar to mine.

  Being the subject of town gossip had a way of making you feel under the weather.

  “Look, Cinnamon, I was going to call you earlier, but I—”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “I came to work this morning, and people around here started giving me these dirty looks. I finally asked Owen what was going on, and he told me about those rumors. I have no idea where something that crazy would come from. I’ve done my share of bad things and I’m no saint. But you have to believe that I would never…”

  As I stood there listening to Liv, something suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I’d been so concerned all morning with the shocking rumor, trying to think of all the ways someone might have gotten the wrong impression about Daniel and Liv, that I hadn’t stopped to really think any of it through.

  I hadn’t stopped to ask who might have started a rumor like that in the first place.

  Who might have had the maliciousness to do such a thing.

  But it was clear as a bell now.

  I felt bitter bile crawl up the back of my throat as the pieces came together.

  That little shortbread-hocking witch.

  Why had it taken me so long to figure out?

  I gnawed on my lip for a long while. Anger burned hot in my chest.

  “... but it wasn’t my fault. So if you leave a message with me, I’ll tell the Sheriff when he gets back and he can—”

  “Just tell him I’m going to go take care of this,” I said.

  A moment later, I was marching out of the station’s doors like a drummer boy after six cups of coffee.

  Chapter 23

  Moira.

  Stewart.

  That rumor-spreading, doily-loving, evil shrew.

  I should have known better than to go over there the morning before. I should have let Kara fight her own battles and not interfere. I should have—

  “Dammit, start why don’t you!” I shouted, turning the key in the ignition again.

  But instead of the usual low rumble, all I got from the Escape was a strange clicking sound and the last death rattle of the battery.

  The brittle winter air had gotten the better of my car this morning. And though it wasn’t its fault, I couldn’t help but yell like a crazy woman at it, mad as hell about being stuck in the Sheriff’s parking lot when the only thing I wanted to do right now was give Moira Stewart a good piece of my mind.

  I sat in the driver’s seat letting a few more moments go by before I tried again.

  I flashed back to the day before when I left Moira’s home. The way the hair on the back of my neck had stood straight up on end, and how the curtains had swayed when I turned back to look at the little yellow house.

  Moira had been watching me leave.

  Was that when she’d devised this evil plan of hers? Is that when she decided to come up with the preposterous story about Daniel and Liv? To hurt me for calling her out about lying to the writer’s group?

  Or did she come up with it later that night at the fundraiser? All evening, she’d been fluttering around the pub like a hummingbird in spring, talking and laughing and laughing and talking…

  All night long.

  Oh, jeez.

  That was why Bethany, the barmaid from The Pine Needle Tavern, and her boyfriend Spencer had given us such strange looks when they stepped outside and saw me punching Daniel. They thought our argument was real.

  And that was probably why everyone had been giving Daniel strange looks all night.

  Moira had had herself quite the little evening, wagging her tongue to the whole town about Daniel and Liv.

  I turned the keys in the ignition again.

  There was nothing but silence this time.

  I let out a frustrated grunt.

  Maybe the car dying was a sign. Moira was probably already up at the Dallas Lodge for the workshop by now, anyway. And besides, what was I going to do when I saw her? I didn’t know whether or not I’d be able to control myself. I would probably just make the whole thing much worse than it already was.

  “Sheriff’s Wife Rips Old Woman’s Head Off in Fit of Justified Rage.”

  The news headline flashed across my mind.

  I might have laughed if I wasn’t so angry.

  I took the keys out of the ignition and then just sat there in the cold Escape, only getting colder by the moment, watching the snow accumulate on the windshield.

  By all rights, I should just go back inside the station and wait un
til Daniel returned. Then we could clear up this whole unpleasant business and set the record straight with the rest of the town. Maybe he could even call a news conference, just so nobody got the wrong impression.

  I took in a deep breath of frosty air, trying to calm down.

  The truth always won out in the end. It didn’t matter what people said or thought. The only thing that mattered was what I knew to be true. Which was that Daniel would never do that to me. That in a million years, he would never…

  My phone let out a low buzz.

  I pulled it from my pocket, answering without looking.

  “Daniel?”

  “No, Cinny Bee. It’s me.”

  I felt my heart sink a little.

  “Hey, old man,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and steady. “How’s everything this morning?”

  There was a long pause from the other side of the line.

  “Old man?”

  “I don’t believe the rumors, Cinny Bee. But I thought I would call and just make sure nothing’s wrong. Aileen’s worried sick, even though I told her none of it could be true. But then I didn’t hear from you this morning, and I got to being worried sick, too, and—”

  Hearing the concern in Warren’s voice was the final straw.

  I caught my eyes in the rearview mirror.

  I looked like a frog getting boiled alive.

  “Everything’s fine, old man. Don’t worry,” I said in a shaky voice. “Can I… Can I call you back?”

  “Of course. But—”

  I didn’t hear the rest.

  For the first time in my life, I hung up on my grandfather.

  Then I let out a screech that could have caused a lake of ice to crack in half.

  I pushed the car door open, stepped out into the wintry morning, and began trudging through the snow.

  She had gone too far.

  Chapter 24

  Even for Moira Stewart, this was reaching a new low.

  A rumor about Daniel embezzling money from the Sheriff’s Office was one thing. A rumor about Daniel having an affair with the station’s receptionist was another.