FORTY-FOUR
Good times, indeed, Candy thought a few hours later.
Everyone in the place was in a jovial mood—or as much as possible, given the loss of one of their own party. But they were also grateful, even thrilled, that the killer had been unmasked, the conspiracy exposed, and a danger removed from their community.
Now, it was time to focus on other things.
As planned, they’d gathered at Blueberry Acres in the late afternoon for the wedding walk-through, which had gone off smashingly, and now they’d regrouped at Melody’s Cafe on River Road for the rehearsal dinner. All those invited had arrived, decked out in their finest, with a heavy emphasis on the wedding’s colors, cinnamon-brown and blueberry-blue. Malcolm and Ralph, who directed the walk-through at the farm, had dashed over to the café to help with the preparations, but Melody and her staff had the situation well in hand. They’d closed down the place to the public at five, and had set to work decorating for the event.
Fresh white flowers and linens adorned the tables, and streamers flowed across the ceiling. Warm and appetizing smells emerged from the kitchen. Malcolm and Ralph, along with Maggie and Herr Georg, and Candy and Doc, greeted their guests with smiles and welcoming words, including two newcomers, Maggie’s brother, Jack, and her sister-in-law, Piper. Everyone milled around for a while, chatting and sipping on white wine or a hearty German beer personally selected by the baker (he’d decided to skip the champagne for this particular get-together), and in time they all began to make their way to their seats.
As the newly designated best man, Doc took the lead again, raising his glass of beer, which still had a frothy head on it. “Welcome, everyone, to our little shindig here tonight. To get us started off on the right foot, I’d like to propose a toast!” he said. “So if you’ll all join me once again in wishing the best of everything for our guests of honor and soon-to-be newlyweds, Maggie Tremont and Herr Georg Wolfsburger!”
They all cheered and drank, and the night was on its way.
Candy was dressed for the occasion, in a formfitting yellow-patterned dress with cinnamon trim, accompanied by cinnamon-colored pumps and a blueberry-blue cotton sweater, with the sleeves pushed up on her forearms. She’d spent the better half of six months looking for something just like this, to celebrate the occasion in proper style, and support the two people she loved most in the world—at least, right at this moment.
Make that three, she thought as she looked over at Finn, who was seated at a nearby table with his wife, Marti. He caught her gaze and gave her a wink and a sly smile. She responded with a raised glass and a thankful nod of her own. He’d saved her skin today, and she’d never forget it.
Both Plymouth Palfrey and Scotty Whitby, she’d heard just a little while ago from Wanda Boyle—who was still on the scene, she reminded Candy, while others were off partying the night away—had been taken to the CWPD station for initial booking but were already on their way to the county jail in Machias, about an hour away. It seemed they were both out of the village for good. That in itself sent a huge collective wave of relief through the villagers, especially those involved in the wedding party.
After the welcome toast, Doc introduced the wedding party, which included Cameron, Maggie’s brother, Jack, and Doc, along with Finn, Artie, and Bumpy, as ushers, and Candy, Amanda, and Piper as bridesmaids.
Next came the exchange of gifts. They began with gifts for the wedding party, selected personally by Maggie and Herr Georg. Naturally, all had a German slant, including huge gift baskets with German beers, crackers, candies, and cheeses like Butterkäse and Edelpilzkäse, a blue-veined cheese, plus baked items and pretzels, most personally created by the bride and groom. Everyone also got a personalized beer stein, ordered specially from Germany, and a decorative cheeseboard from the Old Country.
Then it was time for the bride and groom to exchange gifts. Maggie insisted her fiancé go first, so Herr Georg presented her with her very own chef’s coat, embroidered in cinnamon-colored thread on the chest with the words Chef Maggie, and her very own chef’s hat, a cinnamon-colored toque that matched the embroidery on the coat. While everyone oohed and aahed over these, the baker pulled out a long jewelry box, which he presented to Maggie. Inside was a silver bracelet with cinnamon- and blue-colored gemstones, some of which he explained were stones like hessonite, a type of brown-orange garnet, and sapphire-blue stones. It literally took Maggie’s breath away, and she had to fan herself for several moments to regain her composure.
Then it was her turn.
She waited until everyone in the room had quieted before she began.
“Georg, thank you so much for the gifts. They are truly amazing. But I believe I have an amazing gift for you as well. Specifically, I would like to give you a gift from my family.”
Amanda handed her mother an elaborate box trimmed in black velvet, which Maggie in turn presented to Herr Georg. He studied it for a few moments before he opened it with a dramatic flair.
“It’s a pocket watch,” she told him as his eyes widened, “that used to belong to my grandfather, whose name, by the way, was George. It was a retirement watch, and he treasured it for the rest of his life. Mom has held on to it all this time but, well, I wanted to give you something special, something that’s a family heirloom. This way, you’re now truly a member of our family!”
Herr Georg gently lifted out the watch, turning it one way and the other, studying its intricacies. He noticed the new engraving on the back and read it out loud: “To my beloved Kuschelbär,” he said with a smile. And then, as everyone watched, he fitted the gold chain across his vest and carefully placed the watch into a small vest pocket. He patted it affectionately. “I shall treasure it always!” he said, and everyone applauded.
After that, the night carried on with a definite higher level of buzz as they ate and drank, laughed and sang, and enjoyed good times together. Candy was enjoying herself as well, though she started thinking of Neil and Random out at Crawford’s Berry Farm, and wished she had invited him tonight, although he’d be at the wedding the following day.
She was deep into her dessert, a Frankfurter Kranz German sponge cake with buttercream frosting, caramel-covered nuts, and toasted almond flakes, when she looked up over her fork and saw Owen Peabody approaching her table.
FORTY-FIVE
She couldn’t quite tell his mood but sensed that if he’d shown up here personally to talk to her, it couldn’t be good. She wasn’t ready to endure the Wrath of Owen tonight.
However, by the time he reached the table, he seemed quite contrite, and spoke to her in his best civil tone.
“Candy,” he said, glancing around the table before looking back at her, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I knew you were here and I have to talk to you. I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time . . . in private?”
Candy was in such a good mood that there was no way she was going to give him a hard time, as he’d done to her the day before. “Of course, Owen. Why don’t we step outside?”
She realized after she said those words that they might sound ominous, but it wasn’t her intent. Excusing herself from the table, she led the way out, with the museum director following behind.
Once on the sidewalk and relatively off by themselves, she turned back to him. “So what can I help you with?”
“Well, to be honest,” he said sheepishly, “I’ve come to apologize. The way you solved that case was fairly impressive, and myself and the members of the board—well, the ones who are left—are grateful that we’ll be able to open the museum tomorrow. So, serious crisis averted—except for Julius’s death, of course!—and now we all can begin to figure out what our next step is, so we can put this tragic affair behind us and move on to other things.”
Candy was going to inquire about a period of grieving, or some event to honor Julius, but she left that for later. Instead, she said, “Thank you. That m
eans a lot. I was just trying to help.”
“Well, I realize that now, though yesterday, of course, I was under quite a bit of stress when we talked, and I might have . . . overreacted.” He paused, trying to swallow that thought before he continued. “I’m here for another reason as well. I came to give you this.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a folded slip of paper.
“Is this what I think it is?” she asked, taking it from him and opening it up. She saw the familiar list of names inside. She knew at once, looking at the handwriting, that it had indeed been written by Julius Seabury and stuck into that book as a way to warn others about Plymouth Palfrey and Porter Sykes.
“It is,” he said. “I should have listened to you and given it to the police right away. They called this morning and said they’d send someone over to pick it up, but, well, with all that happened, it got lost in the shuffle. I wonder what I should do with it now.”
She took a final look at the list, folded up the paper, and handed it back to him. “You should take it over to the police station right now, yourself. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you about it. Just tell them the truth. I think they’ll understand.”
He nodded as he took the note and slipped it back into a pocket. “Very well. I’ll cooperate fully, of course. And next time, I’ll know.”
“Let’s hope there won’t be a next time,” Candy said. “At some point these murders have to end—sooner rather than later, preferably.”
“Let’s hope,” Owen agreed.
“So you’re down a board member,” she said, and Owen nodded. “Might I make a suggestion about who should fill that slot?”
“Of course!” he said. “Any suggestions you have would be welcome.”
“Well, how about my father? He’s a retired college professor with a lot of historical knowledge and experience. And he’s working on some historical books he hopes to publish soon. I think he’d be a wonderful addition to the museum’s board.”
Owen thought about it a moment before he nodded. “I think it’s a wonderful suggestion,” he said, and looked back toward the café. “Do you think I should talk to him right now about it?”
“He might be a little preoccupied at the moment,” Candy said. “We have a lot on our plate this weekend. Another day, maybe sometime next week?”
“I understand,” the museum director said. “I’ll give him a call first thing Monday morning.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” Candy said.
Owen seemed pleased by that. “Good.” He nodded to her, and appeared about to start off, when she stopped him. “Before you go,” she said, “I have one last question for you.”
He looked at her warily. “And what’s that?”
“Well, on the night Julius died, there was a meeting at the inn’s lounge, and I heard you were there with some others—Gilbert Ethingham, I believe, and Marshall Bosworth, and Plymouth, of course. I wonder what it was the four of you talked about.”
“Oh, that,” he said. “Yes, that was a fairly disturbing meeting, to be frank about it.”
“Really? In what way?” Candy said, her tone urging him on.
“I guess there’s no harm in discussing this now. You could say we were a small group of concerned citizens.”
“And what were you concerned about?”
Owen hesitated before he said, in a low conspiratorial tone, “Quite frankly, we were worried about Porter Sykes. Marshall Bosworth told us that Porter had bought the Whitby place and was moving into town.”
“Oh!” Candy said, and she had to think about that for a moment. “So, yesterday, when Porter told you on the phone that he’d bought the Whitby place, you already knew.”
“Yes, Marshall informed us the night before at the inn, giving us a heads-up, as it were. He wanted us to be prepared. Frankly,” Owen went on, his voice lowering even more, “this man Porter worries me. I’ve heard some of the rumors about him around town. I’ve never been completely comfortable around the man. It’s one thing to have him call in to our board meetings, but having him and his family so close to the village—well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how it was going to work.”
“That makes two of us.”
“So we discussed Porter and the deeds that night. Of course, at that time I had no idea what Plymouth was up to, or what he was involved in. After our meeting, I went for a walk, through Town Park and over to the lighthouse, to try to clear my head and think it all through.”
“And that’s when you saw the light in the Keeper’s Quarters and surprised me upstairs.”
“Precisely.” He actually made an attempt at a smile.
“So have you heard from Porter since the events of this afternoon? Have they arrested him?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I did hear from Marshall a short while ago. It appears Porter and his grandmother are already headed back to Boston. According to Marshall, Daisy says she won’t stay in that house another minute, after what happened there. And now that the deeds have been destroyed, Porter apparently has no more interest in the Whitby estate. He’s instructed Marshall to put the place back up for sale. And Marshall says that Porter plans to assemble a legal defense team, in case he’s indicted in this issue in any way.”
“Well,” Candy said, “isn’t that interesting.”
“Indeed. It seems we may have seen the last of the Sykes family in Cape Willington.”
“Maybe, but I have a feeling that one way or another, we’ll hear from them again.”
Owen considered that. “You might be right, but let’s hope it’s not for a while.”
“Let’s hope,” Candy agreed.
“As far as you and I are concerned,” Owen continued, “I wonder if we might regroup and try to right our professional relationship. Get things back on track around here, so to speak.”
“I’d like that,” Candy said with a warm smile.
Owen seemed visibly relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. Well, then, I’ll look forward to seeing you soon at the museum,” he said, and he gave her a parting nod before he walked away into the gathering darkness.
FORTY-SIX
In more ways than one, it was the warmest day of the year, so far, in Cape Willington, Maine.
By noon, the temperature was headed to just over seventy degrees, a perfect day, and an hour later, Maggie Tremont and Georg Wolfsburger officially became Herr und Frau Georg Wolfsburger. The bees didn’t come between them, nor the black flies, seeming to hold off out of respect until after the ceremony and reception. But the small flying critters would probably be out in full force come twilight. Most of the guests would be long gone before that, and the happy couple headed off on their honeymoon. But it was a day they’d always remember.
Maggie’s brother, Jack, walked his sister down the aisle, as the wedding march played over the PA system. Herr Georg met her at the altar, and the Reverend James P. Daisy began the ceremony.
Maggie looked radiant in her wedding dress. She and Candy had spent a winter weekend in Boston several months ago, looking and shopping for just the right dress. They’d finally decided on a floor-length dress of ivory tulle with a sweetheart neckline. The top was sleeveless, showing off her bare shoulders, and the dress was accented by a rhinestone-beaded sash. At the beauty shop that morning, Maggie had her hair loosely pinned up with rhinestone hair clips. She’d decided against a veil.
She’d kept the dress at Candy’s place, ready for her wedding day, and Candy, Amanda, Piper, and Ellie had all lent a hand getting her ready that morning. The bridesmaids all wore pale blue straight shift dresses, most at knee length, although Amanda’s was shorter, above the knee. The dresses had three-quarter-length sleeves and were overlaid with lace, and they’d brought matching light linen sweaters to wear if the day was cool, but those weren’t needed today.
Maggie and Georg held hands,
and from there Candy didn’t remember much. Sitting between Neil and her father in the front row on the bride’s side, with Random roaming around somewhere out in the fields, she was overcome with emotion, and memories, at this special time for her friend, and knew neither of their lives would ever be the same. We’re moving on, Candy thought, to new lives, growing, changing, creating new families.
As she looked around the barn, she saw many of the villagers she’d come to know so well. Wanda Boyle and her family had showed up, as well as Judicious F. P. Bosworth, as always decked out all in black, despite the fact he was here for a wedding. At least he’d accented his outfit with a pale blue tie. Mason Flint, the chairman of the town council, sat near the back, along with Cotton Colby and Elvira Tremble of the Cape Willington Heritage Protection League, who had brought their husbands along. Candy saw Elsie Lingholt from the Putting Food By Society, and Aurora Croft from the Pine Cone Bookstore, and local farmer Marjorie Coffin and her husband, and Lyra Graveton, who worked at the Ice Cream Shack in the summer. And she spotted the Gumms, who ran the hardware store, and some of the Watkins family, who owned the general store.
It was, she thought, a wonderful cross section of villagers, and it warmed her heart to see them all here, supporting her friend on her special day.
Both the bride and groom read personal messages to each other, said their I dos, and exchanged gold rings, each engraved with a personal message. Finally, the reverend pronounced them man and wife, and the two kissed, amid much applause and cheers.
Before Candy knew it, the ceremony was over.
Guests were throwing herbal rice, a creation of Maggie’s. And they were on to the reception.
The cake had arrived just an hour before the wedding. Word was Herr Georg had baked through the night, into the early-morning hours, and finished in the nick of time. It was, he said, his masterpiece, a relatively simple three-layer cake, but it had been meticulously made and decorated with intricate swirls and patterns, as well as a small, delicate family crest with the initial W at the center. Its fragrance filled the air.
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