by Ami Diane
Ella perked up. “What about me? Do I get to take home a loaf? Wink?”
The diner owner had rolled her eyes and was already busy instructing Edwin to slowly add the evaporated milk as opposed to the dumping, free-for-all he’d previously been doing.
A few minutes later, while she waited for her turn at the mixer, Ella watched Rose work her magic. Her hands tipped the spices into her bowl without measuring. Ella watched her like a hawk, not to absorb any baking skills via osmosis or anything, but she watched, hoping she’d be inspired with some gift ideas.
As the workshop wound down, the aroma of pumpkin spice permeated the air, filling Ella with memories of past holidays and of family. And of pumpkin spice lattes and pumpkin spice cookies and pumpkin spice candles and pumpkin spice smoothies. She supposed that was a perk to living in a town from the 1950s; she would get a break from the pumpkin spice flavored everything.
Ella’s crust turned a golden brown and looked, not only edible but delicious—largely because Wink had made it. The filling, on the other hand, she couldn’t vouch for. Not without tasting it.
She leaned so close her nose nearly brushed the orange-brown surface, and she filled her lungs with the scent. It smelled right.
“Your present turned out great.” Wink appeared at Ella’s elbow, once again confirming Ella’s suspicion that she was either part ghost or part ninja. “I put it in the cabinet under the cash register.”
“Thank you.” Ella attempted to picture Sheriff Chapman’s face when she gave it to him. It was a small gesture but one she hoped he appreciated. If it happened to endear her to him a little more, then so be it.
“Will you need help tomorrow taking all of these pies to the auction? Wait, where is the auction?”
“It’s after the potluck.”
Ella froze and let out a small whimper. “What? The potluck?” How had it sneaked up on her so quickly? She had thought she would’ve had more time to prepare.
She had been hoping to skip the next one and was prepared to go as far as faking a serious, life-threatening illness to get out of going.
“Don’t be such a wash.”
Ella cocked her head, trying to parse out the intended insult. “Wuss?”
“That’s what I said. Don’t be such a woose.”
“Nope.”
“Waas?”
“Still no. I literally said it. All you have to do is copy the vowel sound I make. Wuss.”
Eventually, Wink successfully pronounced the word but only after Ella smooshed the older woman’s cheeks to form the correct sound.
Around them, people were cleaning up.
“Wait, so, where did we land on me helping you?” Ella asked.
“Yes, that would be lovely, dear. There’s too much snow to drive a car, even with chains. And Chapman confiscated our sled.”
“Yes, such a shame,” Ella said in a monotone voice.
“‘Course, I could borrow John’s sleigh and horses. Or the professor’s snowmobile again. It’s how I got down here today.”
Ella reached for a rag to wipe down her counter and paused. “There’s a horse-drawn sleigh in Keystone? Wait, what am I saying? Of course, there is.”
A few people lingered, curious to see how the last batch of pies turned out. The oven door creaked as Wink pulled out the first cookie sheet that held two pies. Rose had already taken several back to the inn to bake.
As the oven door slammed back into place, the lights overhead flickered. Ella leaned over the sink to look outside.
“It’s really coming down out there.” At least another five inches had fallen since the beginning of the workshop.
Wink clapped her hands overhead. “Alright, everyone! That’s our cue. Seems the storm has moved in, and not a moment too soon. I’m kicking you all out.”
A chorus of grumbles echoed around the kitchen and adjacent diner. Scarves were wrapped around faces and coats were shrugged on as people filtered out both sets of doors.
Ella and Wink stood near the front entrance, thanking people for coming and seeing them off. Evelyn and Sarah were the last to don their snow gear.
After helping Sarah wrap the frayed edges of her scarf around her neck, Ella said, “It was nice to meet both of you.”
Evelyn shot her a fatigued smile, then she tightened the hood of Sarah’s jacket so that it puckered around her face. The young girl’s eyes were trained at a point over Ella’s shoulder, full of longing.
Ella followed her gaze to the display case bursting with pies and donuts.
“Mama, I want one.”
“Can’t, dear. Stop asking.”
“But she probably won’t be using them for a few days. Won’t they go to waste?”
“Still doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pay for them.”
Ella walked over to the display and pulled out a large apple fritter, handing it over to Sarah. “The kid’s right. We can’t sell all of this before Christmas, and I don’t want it to sit here spoiling while the place is closed up.”
A few feet away, Wink nodded her approval. “Send them off with one of the pies, too.”
Sarah tore off a large chunk of donut, her eyes popping. The smell of apple and cinnamon competed with pumpkin as Ella placed a pie in Evelyn’s hands.
The girl’s smacking and licking of her fingers were enough to fill Ella’s heart.
“What’s that?” Evelyn gestured at the wall.
Sometime during the chaos of the pie class, the metal Coca-Cola sign had fallen to the counter, failing in its duty to cover the gaping, singed hole in the wall from Flo’s Ghost Blaster III.
When neither Ella nor Wink supplied an answer, Evelyn asked again about it. “How’d that hole get there?”
Ella’s eyes widened. “Hole? What hole? Wink, do you see a hole?”
“It’s right there,” Sarah said, stabbing a sticky finger in the direction of the charred edges the size of Texas. “I’m looking right at it.”
Wink rolled her eyes and swept over the linoleum, scooping up the metal decoration and returning it to its place on the wall. “I’ve got to get that fixed. Not a lot of people here can plaster this or have the supplies to do so.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” Ella dropped any pretense of not being able to see the blast hole and brushed her fingers along the surface of the wall. “Isn’t the railcar made of steel or some kind of metal?”
Wink nodded. “This part here was cut into for the passthrough, then covered with the same material as the addition.”
Ella bit her lip. It didn’t appear to be sheetrock, which gave her the strong suspicion that whatever it was had asbestos. Her feet shuffled back.
“Can’t you have whoever originally worked on it come fix it?”
Something behind Wink’s eyes clicked. “Wish I could, but actually, it was Paul.” She slid her eyes towards Evelyn.
The mother’s hand went to her chest. “My Paul? He did the construction for this?”
“Yes. Well,” Wink added, “my husband bought the railcar and placed it. We got by a few years in these cramped quarters before we hired Paul to do the construction for the kitchen. Actually, we hired him to finish after the first crew failed to meet several deadlines. It was a quick job. Paul finished within a week. Did fine work, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Evelyn’s brows furrowed, and she nodded slowly. “That’s right. When we first moved to Keystone, he got picked up a lot of work. I couldn’t keep track of all of it. But now that you mention it, I do remember him working on it with a crew.”
Something brewed behind her eyes. Deep memories and ghosts, not all unpleasant, though, Ella noticed. There was a spark there. She guessed it was the close proximity to something this Paul guy had made, like getting a piece of him back.
The moment the two left, Ella flipped off the lights, locked, the door, and turned to Wink in the wan light.
“Alright. Catch me up. Who was Paul and what happened to him?”
“Evelyn’s
husband. He died of cancer a few years back.”
“Cancer, huh?” Ella mumbled under her breath about breathing in toxins and a safe work environment, all the while glaring at the offending wall.
Outside, they said goodnight to each other, and Wink hopped onto a contraption that looked like a motorcycle with blades. Actually, Ella was quite certain that’s exactly what it was.
The older woman clipped a helmet on, which Ella thought wise, and secured Chester inside her jacket before zipping it up.
The professor’s borrowed snowmobile roared to life in such a way that it should’ve been cited for disturbing the peace. Ella’s chest rumbled, and the car alarm for a nearby, modern vehicle screamed.
She plugged her ears and coughed in the cloud of dirty exhaust spewing out the back.
After the last of the rumbling of the snowmobile faded, Ella pulled her fingers from her ears and watched the snow fall under the glow of the street lamps a moment before the cold drove her inside the inn.
A flickering reflection on an open door told her a fire crackled in the study. Upstairs, she paused outside her door. Light spilled from underneath Flo’s closed one and into the dark hallway. A strange, scraping sound came from the other side.
Ella shook her head before slipping into her room. Once the old woman had stepped away from her explosives, Ella would convene the three of them to discuss Erik’s murder.
CHAPTER 9
STEAM ROSE ABOVE Ella’s coffee as she looked out onto nearly a foot of new snow. Wherever Keystone Village was, whenever it was, if it remained there much longer, the village would be buried.
As she added more cream to the strong brew, Jimmy shuffled in, yawning and rubbing at the bags under his eyes. After a quick morning greeting, he settled into the seat beside her, watching the light flakes drift past the picture window, the view partially obstructed by stomach-deep snow.
“This keeps up, it’ll reach the roof by Christmas.”
Mention of the holiday only three days away put Ella’s stomach into a knot. The clock was ticking on her figuring out a gift for Rose.
The man’s thinning hair stood on end, and stubble and sleep lines marred his skin. He rubbed his eyes again.
It was the perfect opportunity to fish for gift ideas without him getting wise about whose name she pulled for Secret Santa. “Did you get Rose a Christmas present?”
“Mm hm.”
“You going to tell me or do I have to guess?”
He seemed more alert as he concentrated on rubbing his fingers over a scratch on the table, avoiding her gaze.
“Jimmy?” Ella’s voice took on an edge. “Jimmy, what did you get her?”
His hand moved from the table to rubbing the back of his neck. “I couldn’t think of anything else….”
“Jimmy Jehoshaphat Murray—”
“That’s not my middle name.”
“—what did you get her?”
“Don’t get upset… but I was wandering around Stewart’s Market, I was desperate, and, well, there it was—”
“Where what was?” She had a bad feeling about this.
“I got her a new gelatin mold.” He ducked his head, and his skin turned a bright red.
Groaning, Ella sank her forehead to the table with a thunk.
“I know, I know. I messed up. I already regret it. But honestly, I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“You realize what you’ve done to all of us?” she said, looking up. “But that’s not what you have to be concerned about—or should I say who you should be concerned about.”
Slowly, his expression morphed into one of horror, and one word whispered from his lips. “Flo.”
Ella nodded. “Flo. I don’t suppose this is the best time to tell you she’s been tinkering with some kind of explosive. By the way, maybe it’s time to visit the idea of relocating her to the basement. I don’t want to die in my sleep because she was trying to get rid of a ghost or contact aliens or other nonsense.”
He groaned, putting his head in his hands. One thing was clear, Ella would not be asking his advice on gift ideas for Rose.
As if called by Ella’s thoughts, the innkeeper swept into the kitchen, her chiffon dress floating over the air. She let out a squeal of delight. “The pies turned out great.”
Ella craned her head around to the island and its pumpkin pie-covered surface. They had turned out great, which made her all the more wary of her own.
Their spicy scent set her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling, so she set about making toast. As she slathered butter then sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top, the back door opened, ushering in a cold gust of air, a few flakes, and a striking inventor.
Her heart fluttered as Will slipped off his fedora, brushed the snow off, and hung it on a hook.
Meanwhile, Rose hopped to her feet, her heels clicking across the floor as she swept over to the stove. “Will, what brings you out this way so early?” Ever the hostess, the innkeeper was already pouring a cup of coffee for him.
He waved her off. “I wish I could, Rose, but this is just a quick stop. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for some snowshoes?” He directed the request at Jimmy.
“Sure thing, sport.” Jimmy disappeared into the hallway to fetch him the gear.
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Will grimaced at the snowy mess at his feet. “Sorry.”
“Nonsense.” Rose settled at the table again, this time with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “What can you do in so much snow? Never go inside?”
Will smiled at the gracious comment, his gaze traveling to Ella. She became very aware of the rivulets of butter oozing over her fingers and the disaster that was probably smeared across her mouth.
She dabbed a napkin over her mouth. “Where are you off to?”
“The wind farm.”
Ella froze mid-chew, the mention of the place bringing back unpleasant memories. “Jonas?” If he was visiting the farmer, she was going to suggest he wear different shoes and perhaps a hazmat suit. The man spat chewed tobacco like she breathed air.
“Yes and no. He called on the landline this morning. Said the turbines were freezing up. We’re actually on reserve power right now.” His mouth pressed into a grim line.
“That’s not good.”
He shook his head. Rose got up and immediately turned off the radio and light switch.
Ella leaned forward, her cinnamon and sugar toast forgotten. “Should we get a message out? If people knew the town was on reserve power, they’d only use the essentials.”
“We will if I can’t get the turbine blades moving again.” His hands tucked into his pockets. “And honestly, I think it’ll come to that. It’ll take nearly constant torching or heating of the gears and propellers to keep them from freezing in this weather.”
“Does the town have some kind of backup generator?”
“Sure. A small one. But we don’t have enough fuel to run it.”
Ella mulled over the predicament, surprised he hadn’t adapted the generator to run off biofuel or some other alternative fuel resource yet like he had other vehicles. The man was years ahead of his time.
“You haven’t converted it like you did your pickup? What’s that run off of again? Vegetable oil? It would certainly explain the whole McDonald’s smell.”
“Says the girl who works in a diner and always smells like burgers and fries.”
“You’re welcome for that, by the way. It’s like I bring Grandma’s Kitchen with me wherever I go. And still manage to smell better than you, I might add.”
Will grinned at the jab before nabbing the last of the toast on her plate. Smirking, Ella waited for his reaction. It came a moment later.
He spat into the nearby trashcan, pounding his chest and coughing. “What on God’s green earth was that, woman?! How did you manage to make something as simple as toast taste so badly?”
“With great skill.” Ella’s chin jutted into the air before dropping a moment later. “It was s
upposed to be cinnamon and sugar toast, but I think I accidentally grabbed paprika instead. That’s what I get for straying from the basics.”
She regarded her now empty plate, the last bit of toast still spewing from Will’s mouth into the trash. Perhaps the fact that she’d eaten the majority of the wretched breakfast was a clue that her palate was severely lacking.
Rose nudged her plate across the table, offering up her bacon and saying, “How you survived before coming here, I’ll never know.”
“Fast food and TV dinners, my friend.”
Before Ella could expound on the marvels of the heart attack-inducing food of her time, Jimmy walked in and handed over a pair of large snowshoes. Will thanked him, saying he’d return them later that day.
“Just bring ‘em to the potluck tonight. Should be fine.”
Ella’s body racked with an involuntary shudder. Not only did she need to convene with the Golden Girls to talk about Erik’s murder, but now they also had to discuss their game plan for that evening. At the last potluck, Ella’s assignment had been desserts and to fend off a cute but vicious girl in pigtails.
After Will left, Rose fixed Ella with a pointed stare.
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she smirked. “You and Will seem to be getting on nicely. Do you fancy him?”
“I think I hear someone at the front door.”
“Nice try.” Rose opened her mouth to say more but stopped and listened. “Oh, there is someone there. That must be Lucy. She phoned earlier, wanting to borrow my casserole dish.”
After she retrieved said dish, she marched towards the door then paused. “Ella, be a dear, would you? Can you check on the pies at the diner, please?”
After zipping her jacket to her chin and tugging her beanie down as far as it would go, Ella stepped out the back door onto the terrace and immediately met a barricade of snow. Enough had been shoveled away from the door that it was able to swing out into the path carved out from the day before, but it was filling in fast.
