Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery)

by Haywood, B. B.

  Candy stared at him for a few moments, uncertain what to do, but in the end she decided to let him be. “Okay, you can stay here until we get back,” she said, “but remember—you’re supposed to protect the chickens, not scare them. Just keep the foxes away, okay? And watch the house.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, she climbed into the Jeep and drove off, leaving the dog behind. In her rearview mirror, she could see him watching her from his vantage point on the porch, until she disappeared down the dirt lane.

  She still had about twenty minutes or so until she met with Maggie at five, so she decided to make a quick detour. As she came into town, before she reached the red light at Main Street, she made a left-hand turn onto Shady Lane, headed for Mrs. Fairweather’s neat brown bungalow at the corner of Pleasant Avenue. She parked in the gravel driveway, walked up the steps onto the porch, and knocked at the front door.

  She waited. She heard nothing from inside. No sense of movement or someone coming to answer the door.

  She knocked again, and discreetly peered in through the small etched-glass window in the front door. “Mrs. Fairweather?” she called out. “It’s Candy Holliday.”

  The house looked dark on the inside. In fact, the whole neighborhood had turned a little darker around her, Candy realized. She looked up. A bank of clouds had rolled in, coming from the west. The sun had disappeared behind it. The wind was kicking up. The temperature had already dropped by a few degrees.

  She looked back at the house. Inside, she saw only shadows and grays. No lights, no sounds, no indication that anyone was in there.

  Maybe she’s not home, Candy thought, and she took a few steps to the left so she could peer in through one of the front windows before circling around to the back and taking a quick peek at the gardens behind the house.

  But she saw no one. No Mrs. Fairweather. No Morgan Sykes Kingsbury.

  She knocked a final time at the back door, just to make sure, but received the same result. No one was home.

  As she turned away, she thought she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a movement inside, the barest shift of light and shadow, a flicker across her corneas. She twisted back around toward the house, certain she had seen someone, or something, move inside.

  She returned to the back door and knocked with more urgency. “Mrs. Fairweather! Hello! It’s Candy Holliday. Are you in there? Is everything all right?”

  But no matter how long or how loudly she knocked, no one came to the door.

  She peered in the windows but nothing moved now.

  Had she actually seen something? Or had it just been her imagination?

  She tried the door handle, wondering if she should enter the house. But the door was locked. She thought of looking around for a key but decided against it. Maybe she’d been mistaken. Maybe it had been a trick of the eye, or simply the shadow of a shifting tree branch cast upon the darker interior. A possible movement inside was no cause to enter someone’s house uninvited.

  Mystified and a little concerned, she returned to the Jeep. With a final look back at Mrs. Fairweather’s house, she backed out of the driveway and drove a few blocks to the Lightkeeper’s Inn, trying to figure out her next step.

  FORTY

  As it turned out, the next step nearly walked right in front of the Jeep.

  Still pondering her fruitless search for Mrs. Fairweather, Candy made a right-hand turn onto Ocean Avenue and headed down toward the end of the street. She kept her eyes open for a parking spot, which could be hard to locate at this time of day in this busy area of town, especially during the summer months. She scanned the rows of angled taillights and trunks first on the right, and then shifted her head left, checking for spaces on the opposite side of the street. She thought she saw a car backing out of a spot farther down the row.

  Perfect timing, she thought as she began to apply her brakes—just in time, as it turned out, for only then did she notice that Elvira Tremble had stepped out in front of the Jeep, coming in from the right side, from between two parked cars, waving her down.

  Candy reacted in an instant, heavily applying her foot to the brake as she glanced up instinctively to the rearview mirror, checking to see how closely she was being followed by the car behind. But fortunately it was some distance back. The Jeep jerked to a stop, settling on its springs with a few quick wobbles.

  Candy’s gaze shot to Elvira. The woman was still on her feet, standing just off to the side of the vehicle, staring at her, hard-faced. Candy considered that a good sign. At least she wasn’t lying flat on her back with a few broken bones. It didn’t look like the Jeep had touched her, though Candy wondered how close it had come. Inches, she guessed.

  With an apologetic wave, she allowed the Jeep to drift forward a few feet, so she could address Elvira out the passenger side window, which was rolled halfway down.

  “Elvira, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. I hope you’re okay,” Candy said to her, sounding fretful.

  But Elvira didn’t seem affected—either physically or emotionally. “I was flagging you down,” she said in a clipped tone. “The ladies of the league would like to have a word with you.”

  “A word with me? About what?”

  Elvira said something but it was drowned out by the toot of a horn coming from behind. Candy glanced up at the rearview mirror again. The car following her was now sitting on her bumper impatiently. She was holding up traffic.

  “Could you repeat that?” Candy asked, turning back to Elvira.

  “We’d like to meet you in the park. We have a special matter to discuss with you.”

  Candy scrunched up her face. She was about to decline—she had plenty on her plate as it was—but she decided it was better to stay on the ladies’ good side, rather than antagonize them.

  “When?” she called out to Elvira.

  “Five thirty. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Okay, but—” She was about to mention her five o’clock with Maggie and buy a little more time, but Elvira had already turned away. “Is Mrs. Fairweather with you?” she called out, but there were more beeps, and Elvira was back on the sidewalk, out of earshot. Candy had no choice but to move on.

  Despite her delay, she managed to snag the recently vacated parking spot, and after grabbing her trusty tote bag from the backseat, she headed down to the Lightkeeper’s Inn.

  She found a wicker table for two outside on the inn’s wraparound porch, where they could look out over the ocean and across to the park. Maggie had just texted her, saying she was on her way. Candy ordered two strawberry wine spritzers from a waiter in a white shirt and black bow tie, and took advantage of a few spare moments to pull out her phone and scroll through her contacts until she found Wanda Boyle’s number.

  “Where are you?” Wanda asked without preamble when she answered.

  Candy was used to Wanda’s abruptness and responded in tone. “I’m at the inn. I’m meeting with Maggie for a drink. Why, where are you?”

  “In Town Park. Are you going to be here at five thirty?”

  “Yes, but . . . why?”

  “Just be here,” Wanda said.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll be there. Is Mrs. Fairweather over there?”

  “Haven’t seen her.”

  “Do you have her number? I need to give her a call.”

  Candy memorized the number Wanda told her and repeated it to herself several times as she tapped the digits on the screen. She held the phone back up to her ear but there was no answer. It was still ringing at the other end when Maggie hurried up onto the porch and dropped into the wicker chair opposite Candy, just as their wine spritzers arrived. “Boy, do I ever need that!” Maggie said, setting down her purse and lifting the chilled glass. She took a few quick sips.

  “Long day?” Candy asked, keying off the phone and setting it down on the tabletop. She took a sip of her drink as well. It was sparkling pink and garnished with thin slices of fresh strawberries.

  “It’s been nonstop,” Maggie said, brushing a few s
tray strands of brown hair out of her eyes. Her hair was a little disheveled, Candy noticed, and flat in some places, since she’d been wearing a hair net most of the day. She looked a little frazzled, but there was also an underlying current of excitement about her. “The day has just flown by!” she told her friend. “The cash register was ringing all day. Herr Georg says he’s never seen it this busy so early in the season. He’s hoping for a blockbuster year.”

  “Let’s hope he gets it. We all could use a good year around here.”

  “You’re right about that. And he’s talking about increasing my hours.”

  “Hey, that’s great news! I’m sure you can use the money.”

  “I sure can. And he wants to start training me as a baker.”

  “That’s fantastic! Just as you’d hoped. It could be a new career for you!”

  “I know, it’s very exciting. He says he’s going to share some of his old family recipes with me.”

  “Wow, he doesn’t do that with just anyone. He must think you’re very special.”

  “Yes, well, I guess he does,” Maggie said evenly, “because he also proposed to me.”

  FORTY-ONE

  “Proposed?” It took a few moments for Candy’s brain to absorb what she’d just heard, but then her mouth fell open and she almost rose out of her chair. “You mean marriage?”

  On that last word her voice became so loud that guests at nearby tables glanced in their direction. “Are you kidding me? Herr Georg Wolfsburger proposed to you?”

  Maggie glanced quickly in either direction. “Well, you don’t have to announce it like that to the whole town.” She reached out and patted Candy’s hand in a comforting manner. “Take a deep breath, honey. It’ll be okay. I know you’re a little shocked right now but you just need a couple of moments to adjust. I dropped it on you kind of suddenly. I apologize for that.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Maggie nodded. “Totally. He mentioned it several times just today, as a matter of fact. He wants us to elope. He’s talking about Vegas.”

  “Vegas? You’re kidding me!”

  “You already said that, and no, I’m not kidding you. I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my best friend.”

  Candy didn’t know what to say. Finally, she managed, “So, are you two . . . in love?”

  “Well.” Maggie pulled her hand back and took a long, long drink of her wine. When she was finished, she wiped the corners of her mouth with her white cloth napkin. “That’s where the rubber meets the road, isn’t it? That’s why I wanted to meet with you. To talk it over.”

  “Talk what over?”

  “You know—what I’m going to say to Herr Georg . . . well, just Georg.”

  Candy scrunched up her face. “What?”

  “Well, that is his first name, you know. He said I should just call him ‘Georg.’ It sounds funny to call him ‘Herr,’ don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but . . . I understand that but . . . you mean you haven’t given him an answer yet? You’re not getting married?”

  “No—not yet, at least. So far I’ve just been pretending like I’m not taking him seriously. And at first I wasn’t. But he keeps giving me this . . . look. It’s like I’m the only person in the world.” Maggie’s expression took on a dreamy appearance as her mind started to drift, but then she refocused and leaned forward across the table, her voice lowering. “I don’t mind telling you that I haven’t had anyone look at me that way in a long, long time. Okay, well, maybe never. Ed certainly never looked at me like that—unless I was cooking his dinner. But the look Georg gives me is just so . . . passionate. I believe he’s being completely honest when he says he wants to marry me. So I have to give him some sort of straight answer—you know, because that’s the adult thing to do.”

  “And what are you going to say to him? Are you thinking of marrying him—or are you going to try to let him down easy?” Now that she was over her initial shock, Candy found this whole conversation incredibly intriguing, since she knew both parties so well. And she realized she was suddenly very happy for them.

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” A cloud of uncertainty crossed Maggie’s face. “I mean, he certainly seems like a nice man, and . . . he’s certainly successful . . . and he’s obviously very talented. I mean, I think he’s a good person, but . . . marriage is a big step. Especially with someone I haven’t known that well until just recently, when I started working for him at the bakery.”

  “Well,” Candy said, “let me start by saying there’s not a better man in Cape Willington, other than my own father, of course. Herr George . . . Georg . . . well, he has a heart of gold. You know that. I worked with him for three years, on and off. He can be temperamental at times and moody in the mornings, especially when he hasn’t had his coffee. But he’s also one of the warmest, kindest people I’ve ever known. I think he would make a wonderful husband—if, of course, that’s what you decide to do.”

  “I agree,” Maggie said. “And I can add a number of other positive traits as well. He always smells like a freshly baked pie. That’s a big point in his favor—especially if you love pie the way I do, and I know you do. His hands are well manicured and amazingly nimble. And his eyebrows are like soft white feathers. But what about the cons?”

  “Cons?”

  “I need someone to play devil’s advocate—to help me look at this from both sides, so I don’t make the wrong decision.”

  “Oh, I see.” Candy understood but she had to think a minute. “Well, he’s quite a bit older than you, right?”

  “Eighteen years,” Maggie agreed.

  “Not that it’s much of a problem these days,” Candy added quickly. “Age doesn’t make that much difference—at least, I don’t think so. But it’s something to keep in mind.”

  “Right,” Maggie said. “We’ve already talked about it. What else?”

  “Hmm, well, he only lives in Cape Willington part of the year. He heads south in the winter.”

  Maggie nodded. “He’s addressed that as well. He says he’ll live wherever I’m at. If I want to stay here in town all year long, then he’ll stay here with me. Or I can go south with him. Either one will work with him.”

  “Wow.” Candy took a moment to shake her head. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “I know,” Maggie said, “which makes me wonder why I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

  “Maybe you’re just not ready.”

  Now Maggie was silent for a few moments as she took some time to think that over while they both sipped at their wine spritzers. “You could be right,” she said finally. “I’ve only been a single woman for a few years now. And to be honest, I’ve kind of been enjoying it. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been completely free to do exactly what I what, whatever that might be—as long as I stay within my budget, of course. So I’m relatively happy with the way things are. But I do want to get married again . . . someday.”

  “Just not today?”

  Maggie nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Do you want to keep working for him? And seeing him?”

  “Of course!” Maggie said brightly.

  “Then tell him that. Tell him you like the idea of starting a relationship with him but you need a little more time to see how it goes before you start thinking seriously about marriage. If he really loves you, he’ll wait for you to decide what you want to do.”

  “You think so?” Maggie asked hopefully.

  Candy nodded firmly. “I do. He’s a good man, and he’ll understand. Talk to him,” she said as her phone buzzed on the table.

  She picked it up and checked the display. She’d received a text from Wanda, requesting her presence in Town Park.

  “I have no idea what’s going on over there,” Candy said, shaking her head as she keyed off the phone, “but I have to get running. Are you okay? Have we solved anything?”

  Maggie gave her an honest smile. “I think so. This has helped a lot. Thanks.”

  Now it was Candy’s
turn to place her hand on Maggie’s. “I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll always be there for you. Friends forever, right?”

  Maggie’s smile broadened. “Friends forever.”

  “And having a wedding like that around here would be absolutely fantastic, whenever it happens,” Candy added, her eyes twinkling at the possibilities. “Can you imagine your wedding cake? Herr Georg will make one for you four stories tall!”

  “I know,” Maggie said happily. “And you’ll help me plan it? When I’m ready?”

  Candy rose and gave her friend a big hug. “Just try and keep me away.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Five minutes later they parted ways. Maggie headed back up the avenue to the bakery to rendezvous with Herr Georg for a private dinner, while Candy crossed the street to Town Park to meet with the ladies of the Cape Willington Heritage Protection League, quite uncertain of what she was walking into.

  There was a small crowd waiting for her as she approached the park’s central area, where annual events such as the Winter Moose Fest and the fall Pumpkin Bash were held. Booths and tents were set all around the periphery, the streamers flying from lampposts had multiplied, and the place had a festive feel. A number of people applauded her as she came down the sidewalk, as if she were some sort of celebrity making her way along the red carpet. She spotted Mason Flint, chairman of the town council, standing in a small knot in the midst of the crowd with Cotton Colby, Elvira Tremble, Brenda Jenkins, Alice Rainesford, and Wanda Boyle, who had her camera out.

  They were all looking at her.

  Candy slowed her pace, suddenly wary at finding herself in the spotlight. “What’s this all about?” she asked no one in particular.

  It looked like some sort of kickoff event for the Strawberry Fair. And indeed, they had strung a red ribbon between two lampposts along the sidewalk in front of her. Brenda Jenkins stood by with a large scissors.