A Sticky Situation

by Jessie Crockett

  “He was relentless. You know, that guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. I gave him no reason at all to think I was interested in him and he just wouldn’t leave me alone. You know how it is with Knowlton making moon eyes at you every chance he gets? That’s how it was with Spooner. I just couldn’t shake him. It was kind of creepy.” That explained a lot. It made it seem like Knowlton’s obsessive behavior in the face of rejection was genetic. I had more patience with him over the years than seemed logical. Now I felt like I had been right to do so. Maybe Knowlton couldn’t help it any more than I can help being so short.

  “So you must have been glad when he disappeared.”

  “I was. And in some ways I was even happier that he had run off with the money. If he had just disappeared I would have been worried that Gary had finally snapped and had done something to him.”

  “Because of the note asking you to meet him at the town hall?”

  “Exactly. I thought Gary was going to throttle him. Gary is a great guy but he has always had a jealous streak. All those people giving me the eye during the competition didn’t help matters. When Spooner started sending me flowers and notes I thought Gary was going to lose it. He actually went to the police to try to file some sort of restraining order.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. Preston told him not to bother the police department with something so petty.”

  “Did Preston ever question you or Gary when Spooner went missing?”

  “He asked me a bunch of questions. As relieved as I was about Spooner being gone I was worried about the way Preston kept questioning me.”

  “You mean like you might have had something to do with it?” By all accounts, back then Spooner was Preston’s only suspect. No one had mentioned the possibility of him having an accomplice. I should have thought to ask him that when I first questioned him about Spooner.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. First he asked me about the rendezvous I supposedly had with Spooner at the town hall. When I told him I never went he didn’t seem like he believed me.”

  “Did he ask anything else?”

  “He did. He had a bunch of questions about the bank deposit bags and who had access to what and when. He kept saying it was pretty convenient that I worked at the bank and that the guy who ran off with the money was crazy about me.”

  “But Spooner and the money were gone and you were still here. How did he explain that?”

  “He said maybe Spooner had used me and that after he got the information he needed from me about the deposits he took off without me.” Or maybe he was trying to divert suspicion from his own wife, Karen, by putting someone else in the hot seat.

  “What did he think was the reason you would have been involved besides Spooner’s interest in you?”

  “He didn’t really give me much of a reason. He didn’t have to. I wasn’t much more than a kid at the time and I was really intimidated about being questioned by the police. I was completely rattled by the whole thing and I think that just encouraged him to press me even more.”

  “Do you remember what he asked at all?”

  “He wanted to know about the bank bags and who had them and if they locked and if I had a key. He had already questioned the other bank employees so I felt like he was just being kind of pedantic. Especially since I was still in training at the bank. I’d been there less than two weeks when it happened. That was until I caught on to the fact he was trying to get me to slip up about something.”

  “What did you tell him?” I asked.

  “I told him the truth. I said I didn’t know anything about the bank bag and that if he wanted to know about the festival and its banking he would be better off asking Frances. She had been on staff longer than anyone else including the bank manager. And she was on the festival committee.”

  “Who knew that the bag was going to be in Karen’s desk drawer?”

  “That would depend on whether or not the few people on the festival committee who knew about it told anyone. I just worked at the bank. I have no idea what committee members talked about.” I had to bet that if anyone on the committee opened their mouth too wide they wouldn’t have wanted to admit it to anyone.

  “So what got Preston to stop bothering you about the theft?”

  “I think it was when Lowell pointed out that I was out a whole lot of money myself since the check for the Miss Maple prize was being drawn on the funds that went missing along with Spooner.”

  “Did you ever get the prize money?”

  “I did. About a week after the festival, when everyone had finally decided the money was not going to show up someplace Jim Parnell got to work and found an envelope full of cash shoved through the mail slot in his office door. It was marked ‘Miss Maple Prize Money’ on the front.”

  “Did you find out who donated it?”

  “I never heard for sure but I always assumed it was your grandparents.” That was the sort of thing Grampa and Grandma would have done, so her assumption made sense. I told myself to remember to ask once I went back to Greener Pastures.

  Fourteen

  I was eager to get back to work when I got home so I headed straight to the sugarhouse. When I entered the shop I noticed that thankfully, someone had started a pot of coffee. I poured myself a cup and swirled a dollop of grade B maple syrup and a splash of cream into it. I wished I’d remembered to bring along some slices of Grandma’s pumpkin bread to fill the empty bakery dome tucked next to the coffee station.

  I blew on the coffee as I looked around. Despite the cold winds swirling around outside, the shop was cozy and warm. The woodstove in the corner was lit and the rocker in front of it beckoned but there was too much to do to sit myself down to work on the jigsaw puzzle we always left there.

  Loden had been picking up a lot of slack for me and it wasn’t surprising to find him in the sugarhouse. What was surprising was finding him sitting at my desk in the office instead of standing over the evaporator. What was even more surprising was that the evaporator pan was completely empty. Not a drop of sap clung to its metal surface, not a whiff of sweet steam billowed from it.

  “Not that I’m ungrateful for the way you’ve been pitching in all week but I was wondering why there’s no sap boiling,” I asked my brother. Loden tipped the chair back and looked up at me.

  “Because there isn’t any sap to boil down.”

  “What do you mean? It didn’t go off, did it?” Sap needs to be kept cool or it will spoil. Spoilage of sap or evaporator pans boiling dry are two of the biggest concerns in the process of sugar making. Once the syrup is finished it will keep at room temperature almost indefinitely if a properly bottled container is kept sealed.

  “Yes. Yesterday while you were off gallivanting.” Loden looked surprised at my question. I couldn’t believe it. All that work for nothing. Spoiling a batch was not going to win me any points with the grandparents and was sure to damage my chances of convincing them we should increase production. If I couldn’t stay on top of the sap I was already harvesting there was no way I should invest good money in machinery that could help me waste more.

  “How many gallons spoilt?” I hardly dared to ask.

  “None. It went off with Knowlton when he came for it.”

  “Knowlton took our sap?” Tansey threatened not to boil her own but I shouldn’t have thought such a thing would have reduced Knowlton to thievery.

  “Yes. He said Jade sent him for it with your approval.”

  “I never said Jade could help herself to a huge quantity of sap.”

  “Well, you hadn’t told me she couldn’t have it. And after all, she’s a Greene, too.”

  “But how are we going to make any syrup without sap?” I couldn’t believe it. Jade had always been high-handed but this was the absolute limit.

  “The season’s barely begun. There will be plenty more before
it’s over.”

  “Even if you’re right, Jade should have talked to me before just sending Knowlton to take it.”

  “Right or not we don’t need to keep an eye on the evaporator today. I’m going to the Stack. Do you want to join me for a late breakfast?” Even with my brain fogged over by irritation, it was clear why Loden wanted me to accompany him. My brother had been harboring a secret passion for Piper for years. He found it easier to talk to her when I was around to provide him with some conversational backup.

  “No. I’m going back up to the house to try to catch Jade before she goes to work.” I hurried out the sugarhouse door and into the shop where I almost bumped into Celadon’s husband, Clarke.

  He spends more time on the road than he does at home so finding Clarke at Greener Pastures always feels a bit startling. His back was to me and I was surprised to see a sprinkling of gray hair I hadn’t noticed before. Clarke feels more comfortable in a boardroom than on the farm. Finding him in the shop had to mean something was up in the main house. Something unpleasant enough to make physical labor look like a good alternative.

  “So what brings you out here?”

  “I’m hiding.” Clarke gave me one of the boyish smiles that had won Celadon’s heart in the first place.

  “From your wife?”

  “Maybe a little. But mostly from Hazel. And from the conversations about Jade.” I felt my stomach lurch.

  “What kinds of conversations?”

  “The ones that are cropping up all over. Celadon and your grandmother are upset by all the mess. Your mother keeps running around the house burning sage and mumbling under her breath. I finally came out here for some peace.”

  “Now you know why I like it here so much.”

  “If you’re smart you’ll have a pizza delivered right to the sugarhouse and just hunker down here until Hazel has blown off to wherever it is she gets to when she leaves.”

  “You know no one in Sugar Grove delivers pizza.”

  “Just one of the many reasons I love to travel. I could go pick one up if you want.”

  “No thanks. I’d better go to the house to see if Grandma needs me. Hazel’s visits hit her really hard.”

  “I think I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the shop for you.” Clarke winked at me then pulled out his cell phone and starting fiddling with it.

  * * *

  Clarke had been wise to hide. I found Grandma in the living room running a vacuum attachment over the drapes with enough vigor to bend the curtain rods. She had left three damaged ones in her wake. I thought about letting her know I was home but cleaning is the best tonic for her. She tends to think it is the best one for everyone else, too.

  You know those mothers who feel cold so they tell their kids to go put on a sweater? Grandma was like that with cleaning. If it was making her feel better she was sure it would do everyone else a world of good. If you didn’t keep out of her way when a fit like this came on you’d end up with blisters on your hands and calluses on your knees from all the scrubbing. I backed out of the room and right into my mother.

  “Hold this,” she said, thrusting a brass contraption spewing fragrant smoke into my hands. I stood trying not to sneeze while she pulled a bell from one of the many pockets in her long skirt. Mom began to spin in circles, ringing and jangling the bell. “Your aunt has picked up a psychic dark force.”

  “My aunt has always been a psychic dark force.”

  “She most certainly has not. Wave that incense burner over here.” Mom gestured wildly into the corner with her bell.

  “What makes you think she has picked something up other than a few new unsuspecting men?”

  “Haven’t you noticed how muddy her aura has gotten to be?”

  “Sorry, Mom. I’ve been too busy with the sugaring and the festival to notice much of anything.” Not to mention all the running around I had been doing for Tansey. But if my mother was as psychic as she thought she was she could figure all that out for herself.

  “Your aura could use a bit of a buff-up, too, now that I am looking at you closely.” Mom took a step toward me and rang her bell over the crown of my head with one hand and waved smoke from the burner into my face with the other.

  “You’re making me choke.” My eyes started to stream and my nose stung. It was a wonder I hadn’t developed asthma.

  “That means it’s working. I’d hate for you to end up with whatever is bothering Hazel clinging to you instead. Especially with all the things your father has been saying.” Mom looked at a spot just beyond my left shoulder and winked.

  “You’ve been talking to Dad again?”

  “Of course I have. He talks to me. You wouldn’t want me to just ignore him, would you?” Mom sent another puff of smoke straight at my face.

  “I would never want you to be rude to anyone. Except maybe Jade.”

  “Your father was mentioning your cousin to me when he dropped by. He was quite insistent about it. I think she’s why he got in touch today.”

  “What did you see exactly?” Mom receives her messages in pictures and then interprets what they mean.

  Unfortunately, her ability to communicate clearly with my father had not gotten any better after he died than while he was alive. My father was a taciturn man with a direct manner of speaking in the unusual event he had something to say. Mom was always trying to reach hidden depths and to add shades of meaning into whatever he said during their long marriage and she was still doing it.

  From the messages he had sent through recently, I wasn’t sure he had changed. Mom seemed to be doing just as bad a job of understanding what he meant now as she had in the past. I had more luck finding Dad’s messages useful if I asked her straight out which images she had seen rather than accept her interpretation of them.

  “You were standing here at Greener Pastures with a green heart-shaped stone pendant hanging from a leather cord around your neck. As you walked through the house the size of the pendant grew so large it pulled you off-balance and dragged you to the ground.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Your father was smiling about the whole incident.”

  “What happened next?” I was sort of afraid to ask but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get on with my day properly if I didn’t. I didn’t entirely believe in my mother’s ability to communicate with my father but some advice he had supposedly sent over the last few months had proved insightful. At least after the fact.

  Since I already felt Jade’s presence like a millstone around my neck, I would like to have the opportunity for this to turn out better than the other warnings had. Or at least resolve itself earlier.

  “You lay on your stomach and grabbed the stone with both hands. Then you pushed it out in front of you and scootched along behind it like an inchworm. You pushed and scootched to the doggy door in the kitchen.”

  “There is no doggy door in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house.” Celadon had a dog allergy that made even the furless dogs an impossibility here at Greener Pastures. I’d lobbied hard for a hairless rat terrier once when I was about twelve. I saw one listed in the Aunt Harriet’s Swap and Sell magazine at the general store. I pleaded, wheedled, and did extra chores for a week before I convinced my father to drive the family over to see if the dog just might not bother Celadon.

  When we showed up it was the cutest thing I had ever seen. Without any fur it was easy to see large pinkish spots like polka dots covering its skin. Unfortunately, just being a few feet from the dog made my sister break out in some large pink spots of her own.

  “This is why your father finds it so difficult to get in touch with you, sweetheart. The spirit world is not bound by the literal like you seem to be.” Mom insisted my father regularly tried to get ahold of me but that I was simply not listening. I’d been trying but so far I hadn’t seen or heard a thing.

/>   “What happens with the nonexistent doggy door?”

  “You wriggled on through and as you did, the pendant got caught on the edge and remained in the kitchen.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then nothing. You wriggled through the doggy flap and the pendant just sat on the kitchen floor.”

  “Is Dad still here?”

  “I’m afraid not. He said something about checking on the trees. You know how he loves to walk in the woods.”

  “So what do you think it means?”

  “I think he is warning you about not buying oversize jewelry. It would overwhelm your tiny frame.”

  “What about the doggy door?”

  “The complexities of your father’s mind are sometimes too much even for me to explain. I have to confess to being completely baffled by that one myself.” Mom plucked the incense burner from my hands and swished off down the hallway, leaving me with nothing more than a tickle in my throat from all the smoke and a nagging bit of worry tickling my mind. I followed Mom along the hallway and then headed up the stairs to my bedroom to look for Jade.

  The door was shut, which was strange. As thrifty New Englanders the family didn’t tend to turn up the heat. If I didn’t want to freeze to death all winter long I left the door open in order to allow heat from the hall to drift in. I turned the knob and gave the door a shove. It took some doing but I managed to push it open.

  Inside the room chaos reigned. I wasn’t sure what had happened while I had been gone but I couldn’t see the floor or even my own bed. The room looked like a large department store had exploded and my bedroom had been downwind from the fallout.

  And it wasn’t just clothing. Dirty plates and half-filled glasses, wads of makeup-smeared tissues, and even a clump of hair that looked like it had been yanked from a brush scattered across various surfaces. Over the pounding of blood in my ears I heard the floorboard in the hallway creak.