I had to shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans to keep myself from covering my nose.
“You can help me by telling me what is going on with the final tasting this afternoon for the wedding.”
I glanced at my grandmother. Tasting? What was this woman talking about?
Maami’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Eileen, I’m so very sorry. I forgot that was today.”
“How could you forget that was today when the wedding is tomorrow? We scheduled this tasting months and months ago, and you promised to make it a wonderful event for my daughter and her future husband.”
Mother of the bridezilla. I recognized the signs. As Jean Pierre’s assistant, I had met more than my fair share, and a wedding dessert tasting for a mother of the bride was the worst. Many times, the mother of the bride was much harder to contend with than the bride and groom.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” my grandmother said. “But I’m surprised.”
“Surprised about what?” Eileen’s tone was sharp.
I peeked over my shoulder to see if my grandfather was following this conversation, but he had wandered off and was speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch to an elderly Amish man in the neighboring stall. Both men sat on lawn chairs and had their heads bent together. I wondered if my grandfather was telling him of the morning’s events.
Maami lowered her voice. “Surely, you have heard by now about what happened to Tyson. I would have thought Jace would know, and he must have told you and your daughter, Mira.”
In my head, the players were beginning to fall into place. Had this been the wedding that Aiden and my grandmother had been discussing yesterday afternoon? That seemed so long ago.
Eileen sniffed indignantly. “Yes, of course. Mira was Jace’s first call. He insisted the wedding should go on as planned. After the farmers’ market is over today, and everyone leaves, the reception tent will be put up.”
“They’re getting married here?” I asked, speaking for the first time.
Eileen’s icy blue eyes slid in my direction. “And who are you, exactly?”
I immediately bristled and was about to fire back a response when my grandmother interjected, “Eileen, this is my granddaughter, Bailey. She’s visiting from New York.”
Eileen examined me from the top of my head to the bottom of my black, calf-high boots. “I had heard that you have English family, Clara.”
The way she said it almost sounded like an insult, but I couldn’t figure out why that would be. She was as English as I was. Perhaps everything Eileen said was meant to sound insulting. I made up my mind that I didn’t like her. Anyone who yelled at my sweet grandmother was immediately filed into the dislike category of my mind.
“Eileen’s daughter,” my grandmother explained to me, “is getting married tomorrow evening, here on the square at sunset. It was to be the wedding of the year in the county.”
“It still will be,” Eileen snapped.
My grandmother looked like she wanted to argue with that, but instead, she pressed her lips together. My Amish grandparents believed that if you don’t have anything nice to say, you should say nothing at all. I wasn’t of the same mind.
“There’s no reason to yell,” I said. My voice was hard. “What exactly was it that you needed from my grandparents for the wedding?”
Eileen appraised me with renewed interest. Maybe because I talked back to her, I had earned a speck of her respect. I suspected that it wouldn’t last long. “If you must know, Swissmen Sweets was to cater the dessert for the wedding. Jace, my daughter’s fiancé, hates cake, so instead of cake there will be a dessert bar. It was against my wishes, of course. A wedding should have cake, but Jace wouldn’t budge on this one piece of the wedding planning. My daughter,” she said with a disparaging tone, “took his side in this argument. I see no reason why she would. We could have a dessert bar and cake. He doesn’t have to eat the cake. Clara promised us a final tasting today before the wedding tomorrow evening, so you can guess why I am so upset to see that, not only is she not ready for the tasting, but Swissmen Sweets is closed.”
My grandmother blinked rapidly, as if she was trying to digest everything Eileen had just said and it wasn’t adding up. “I’m sorry that I forgot about the tasting. I suppose in the back of my mind, I assumed that the wedding would be postponed, so with all the disturbing events of the day, it flew clean out of my head. That is no excuse.”
“That’s all well and good.” Eileen twisted the strap of her purse in barely contained anger. “But what are we to do about the tasting now?”
“Why would the wedding be postponed?” I asked. I knew I was missing a large piece of this conversation.
My grandmother glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Jace, Mira’s fiancé, is Tyson Colton’s son.”
Chapter 12
“His what?” I asked. Maybe I had misheard her. She’d said Jace was Tyson’s what?
Eileen glared at me. “He’s Tyson’s son. Didn’t you hear her?”
I hadn’t misheard her at all. I had only hoped that I’d heard wrong. “And Jace is still getting married tomorrow, the day after his father died?”
Eileen’s eyes narrowed into icy slits. “We’ve already been over this several times. I don’t know why you keep asking me the same question over and over again.” She lowered her voice. “He and his father weren’t close. I didn’t even know if Tyson was coming to the wedding. We invited him, of course. It was the right thing to do, but I never received his RSVP, and I suppose now I never will.”
My grandmother wrinkled her nose, and I felt myself recoil at the woman’s callousness over the death of the man who would have been her daughter’s father-in-law. At the same time, my ears perked up at this news. An estranged father and son? Jace sounded like the perfect murder suspect to me. I hoped that Aiden and the rest of the sheriff’s department planned to take a good, hard look at Jace Colton.
“So.” Eileen clasped her hands a little more tightly around the stiff handle of her box-shaped purse. “We would like the tasting to go on as planned, promptly at noon. As it is already after eleven, I expected you to be in your shop, already setting up for the tasting.”
Maami’s mouth fell open. She was clearly at a loss for words.
I stepped forward. “There’s one little problem.”
Eileen glowered at me. “And what could that be?”
I glanced at my grandmother, but since she seemed unable to speak, I answered the question. “Swissmen Sweets is closed.”
“Closed? Why on earth would you close before the wedding?” She glared at my grandmother.
I stopped myself just in the nick of time from clapping my hands to get her attention focused back on me. “The candy shop is closed because I found Tyson Colton in the kitchen this morning.”
She sputtered. “Wh-what? How can that be? Jace said that his father was found dead just this morning. He couldn’t be in the candy shop’s kitchen.”
I shot another glance at my grandmother. “That’s just it. I was the one who found his body.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, and color drained from her face. “He died in the kitchen with the wedding desserts? They’ll be ruined. What are we going to do? We can’t have a wedding without dessert. It’s too late to order a cake worthy of my only daughter’s wedding. I knew this dessert bar idea was terrible from the get-go. I should have insisted that we order a cake.”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. A man was dead, and she was more concerned with the wedding desserts.
Eileen turned back to my grandmother. “Had you even started the dessert?”
“We had,” Maami said regretfully. “But as you said, they are in the kitchen, and even if we were able to enter the kitchen, I wouldn’t want to give them to you for the tasting. And we don’t have the use of our kitchen to finish preparing the desserts for the reception tomorrow.”
The farmers’ market had officially opened during our conversation with
Eileen, and I couldn’t help but notice that a small crowd of curious shoppers had gathered around us. They stopped just short of leaning in and cupping their ears. I was certain the mention of Tyson Colton had attracted them. Murder wasn’t a common occurrence in Harvest, Ohio, and everyone wanted in on the latest gossip.
“You don’t have anything for the reception?” Her voice was barely below a screech.
My grandmother gestured at the table. “Maybe something here will suit you. Most of what we have available is here.”
Eileen wrinkled her nose at the containers of fudge and other candies that my grandparents had for sale at the farmers’ market. “This will never do. You promised me a unique menu. There is nothing unique about this!”
I balled my fists at my hips and tried to hold my temper. If I had been in New York, I might have told her off for being so rude, but I knew in Ohio, manners were different. I didn’t want to do anything that might hurt my grandparents’ business or embarrass them in front of the members of their district.
Eileen threw up her hands. “What are we going to do? You can’t expect me to disappoint Mira and Jace, especially on today of all days, when they are reeling from such a tragedy.”
I wrinkled my brow. Reeling from tragedy? Did she really mean that? Hadn’t she just said that Jace hadn’t been that close to his father and wanted to go on with the wedding?
“Clara,” Eileen said in a harsh whisper. She leaned across the sales table so that her face was just inches from my grandmother’s. “You know I have much influence in the village. If the news gets out that you failed to deliver for my daughter’s wedding, you won’t have another English customer come through the doors of Swissmen Sweets. You have my word on that.”
Maami stiffened her spine. “Eileen,” she said evenly. “A man, a child of Gott—likeable or not—has died in our candy shop. There’s really nothing more damaging than that which you can do to us.”
A solution that might solve everything came to my mind, and it might even give me the opportunity to catch a killer. Besides, I couldn’t let this show on the square go on much longer. Soon, one of the Amish farmers would be selling their kettle corn and breaking out folding chairs for the growing audience.
“I—” Eileen began, but I cut her off.
“I have an idea,” I said.
Both women stared at me as if I’d just said I saw a cow fly by, like in the movie Twister.
“I can make your dessert menu, and even have a tasting for you later this afternoon if we can bump back the tasting until three.”
“You?” Eileen looked me up and down. “How are you going to create the dessert bar that my daughter and her future husband want for their wedding?”
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from snapping back. If nothing else, my time in Ohio was giving me lots of practice in holding my tongue. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to carry that habit back to the city with me.
“She knows more about desserts than all of us put together,” my grandfather said as he shuffled through the grass back to our booth. The old man in the neighboring booth watched him make unsteady progress, but held himself back from offering Daadi any assistance. I did the same. I knew that it would only embarrass him in such a public setting.
“My granddaughter is a prize-winning chocolatier, and she is next in line to be the head chocolatier at JP Chocolates in New York City. Your daughter’s wedding will be the envy of the county to have a sweets menu made by her gifted hands.” He finally reached us, and Maami helped him back into his folding chair. Hers was the only help he would accept.
I felt a blush creep up from the base of my neck to the top of my head. “It’s not for sure yet. It’s not a done deal that I got the job,” I said automatically.
Daadi waved away my clarification. “It’s all but done.”
Eileen studied me with renewed interest in those icy blue eyes. “JP Chocolates. I visited there once when I was in the city. Their chocolates are quite expensive and more exclusive than Godiva. I believe I had one of the saffron truffles. It was divine.” She appraised me with those cold eyes again. “You are the next chocolatier?”
“It’s not official yet.”
“But you work there, and you would know how to do a tasting of a much higher caliber than your Amish grandparents ever could.”
I stopped just short of grinding my teeth. “My grandparents and their shop, Swissmen Sweets, taught me a love for chocolate long before I ever worked for Jean Pierre.”
Tears welled in my grandfather’s eyes. He smiled at his hands.
“I’m Jean Pierre’s first chocolatier,” I told Eileen. “As his first chocolatier, I can do everything Jean Pierre does. Your tasting will be no trouble. All I need is to gather my ingredients and supplies, which is why I am asking for a little more time to prepare, and I need a kitchen.”
She clapped her hands together. “Splendid. Mira will be absolutely thrilled when she hears the news. She loves JP Chocolates as much as I do.”
I blinked at her. All of Eileen’s anger over the tasting seemed to have disappeared now that she knew who I was. I tried not to let that bother me, but it did. Eileen reminded me too much of many of the stuck-up women and men who came into JP Chocolates in New York and fell over themselves to chat with Jean Pierre, but sneered at anyone else they perceived to be of lesser importance. The way they treated not just me, but the entire staff, never sat well with me. Cass said it was my Midwestern roots. Even though my parents were from Ohio, I grew up in Connecticut, but she always seemed to glaze over that piece of my personal history. She said it was impossible for me not to assume that every new person I met would be kind and reasonable because of my Midwestern heritage. That might be true. I didn’t expect it, but I hoped for it. I didn’t see anything wrong with hoping for kindness in the world.
Eileen opened her purse and removed a cell phone. “How about we do this—you can use the church kitchen. All I need to do is make a quick call, and it’s yours.”
“What church is that?” I asked.
“That one.” With a long manicured nail, she pointed to the opposite side of the large village square, toward a broad white church with a dark purple front door and an iron cross at the very top of the steeple.
It was a beautiful building nestled in between two enormous oak trees on the church’s expansive lawn. As a village landmark, it was the most photographed building in the village. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn this was Eileen’s church. It was the best in the village, at least judging strictly on the outward appearance. I wouldn’t doubt that Eileen had chosen it solely based on that.
“We have a meeting with the pastor at the church later this afternoon anyway. If you can set the tasting for two, that will work well.”
When I had asked for three o’clock, I had cushioned my request with an extra hour. I knew I would need several hours to make all the desserts I had planned. I already had a running menu in my head. My only wish was that Cass, who was a gifted chocolatier in her own right, was there to back me up.
“Will your pastor mind if we use the church kitchen? Don’t you have to ask his permission?” I inquired.
“Of course not. My family almost single-handedly keeps his offering plate full on Sundays. He more than owes me this little flavor.” Some of the venom had returned to her voice. I had suspected Eileen wouldn’t be able to stay as sweet as sugar for long, even if she was impressed with my chocolate credentials.
“What’s the name of the church?” I asked. “Who will let me inside?”
“First Church of Harvest, but everyone just calls it First Church. I’ll call and let them know that you are coming and will need the kitchen. There will be someone there to greet you.” She picked an invisible speck off of the sleeve of her dress. “I should let Mira know the change of plans. We’ll be there at two PM sharp. I’ll expect to be wowed, as you are the first chocolatier from JP Chocolates. I have very high expectations now. I hope that y
ou can deliver.” With that, she flounced away. Only the sickly sweet scent of her floral perfume remained.
Chapter 13
“She’s a charmer,” I muttered after Eileen had gone. The crowd gathered around our booth had dispersed when it was clear there weren’t going to be any further arguments involving Tyson Colton.
“She’s a menace,” Daadi said from his spot on the folding chair.
Maami shook her head. “Now, Jeb, you can’t call people names like that no matter how unkind they might be. Gott teaches us to turn the other cheek.”
“Ya, he does, but he didn’t say we had to enjoy it,” my grandfather replied. There was still a slight gray cast to his complexion, but I thought he looked better overall. He also had the twinkle back in his eye that he always had when he was trying to get a rise out of my grandmother. I suspected that my grandmother was as aware of the twinkle as I was, and I had a feeling that she had rather enjoyed my grandfather’s teasing during the last fifty plus years of their marriage.
Daadi tried to adjust his sitting position on the chair but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I made a move to help, but he waved me away. “I’m all right. These old bones just don’t settle into place as well as they once did.” He shook his head, and his long white beard waved back and forth. “It was very difficult for me to sit back and listen to her insult both my wife and my granddaughter. Had she been a man, I would have given her a piece of my mind.”
I walked over to my grandfather and patted his shoulder. “You’re my hero, Daadi, but I don’t need protecting. I can handle her. If I can handle Upper Eastside supermoms planning their daughters’ million-dollar birthday blowouts, I can handle Eileen and her small country wedding in Harvest, Ohio.”
He frowned. “A million dollars for a birthday party? Surely, that can’t be right.”
“Maybe I exaggerated.” I paused. “A little. You would be surprised at the amount of money some parents spend on their children. I don’t think it’s exclusively a New York thing though.”
Assaulted Caramel Page 7
