She reached out and held his hand, shaking her head as he climbed down. “No William. I need to do this on my own but thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll miss you.” She climbed onto the wagon seat, settling herself in her sturdy workman’s clothes and bracing her wide hat.
William reached up and took her hand, kissing it lightly on the knuckles before stepping back. He didn’t wave, nor did she look back as the wagon disappeared into the distance and turned south.
Chapter 27
Abby closed the book and gave out a huge sigh before staring into the fire. She stayed like that for a long time, contemplating everything she’d read. She wasn’t directly related to Kat, but she felt she knew her. They both had left everything behind, and started their lives over in Red Pine Falls. This was the legacy she would inherit, and this was also the reason the Clarks had apparently pursued them across the country, and finally found them.
The Clarks had apparently been evil for a very long time.
So what were they going to be able to do? She had an idea, and as she thought about Robert Carrington, she realized something else. Billy Carrington was Robert’s ancestor which explained the families loyalty to the Morgans. She wondered who had found whom, but doubted she’d ever hear that story. Still, it was enough that they’d found each other.
Hazel paused in the door from the kitchen, peeking out at Abby before noting the closed diary. Nodding to herself, she came out and sat before slapping her legs. “So, what do you think?”
Abby grimaced. “I’d say there’s a huge fight ahead of us.”
“There are other options,” Hazel said softly. “We could always just give the paperwork to Senator Clark. He might leave us alone, then.”
“Or, he would just kill us, because he’d know we read the story and know what really happened,” Abby replied darkly. “I think we need to call Robert. He’ll be able to help us come to a decision, one way or the other. I think he also deserves to read the diary, himself.”
Hazel nodded. “Which is why I already called him. He is right in the middle of a case, but he’ll be here in a week. I didn’t tell him what it was concerning, but I think he knew it was important.”
Abby nodded, standing up from her chair and sitting next to Hazel on the couch. She put her arm around the older lady, feeling the gentle frailty of the woman and pulled her close. A moment later, she could feel Hazel quietly start sobbing.
They sat like that for a long time, each reflecting on the new information. Still, Abby wondered if Hazel had picked up on one item that hadn’t been obvious. She remembered Kat’s entries about her trip to Lady Crenshaw’s and the motherly woman she’d met there. Beatrice Troutdale. She had talked about a young boy who was an engineer, and though Kat had never mentioned William’s last name, she made plans to ask John Troutdale if he knew his family history.
If so, it would mean they were related. Whatever that might mean, she knew it would be an interesting discussion.
Cookies & Catastrophe By Beth Byers: The 2nd Chance Diner Mysteries (book 2)
Dedication
For Carolyn and Angela.
I love ya, ya punks!
And for Shawn
Chapter 1
It all started with the Zee—the crotchety, nasty friend who waited tables at my 2nd Chance Diner. She had an underlying level of kindness. Perhaps, she was a human cactus with a pulpy tender heart. But it was all her fault I got sucked into the mess. Pretty much.
“We’ll be selling bags of cookies. The money will go to the no-kill shelter, Kitty Haven. Before you ask, they help dogs too.”
Given that I was in love with my dog—helping dogs was a huge selling point. My first thought beyond the dogs was of Zee’s cats staring me down because I was pretty sure her cats had been plotting my death. I didn’t hate cats, but hers had me nervous. My next thought was of the legalities associated with random women donating and selling cookies through my diner. It had to be iffy if not downright against the law.
“Can we do that?” There were laws. Food handler’s cards. Making baked items in commercial kitchens. Inspectors and whatnot.
Zee snorted in that way that positively shouted I was an idiot and then said, “Do you really think that anyone is going to tell me no?”
Given that I wasn’t going to tell her no, I had to admit that no one would take Zee on. Any inspector would know Zee. They would arrive, considering challenging Zee, and choose instead to buy a bag of her contraband cookies while complimenting her on her hair. Then they would flee.
She was just so mean. I don’t know why I liked her, but I did. Zee tucked one of her straggling gray hairs behind her ear, and then point made, she continued to mop the floor of the diner.
It was just past 2:00 pm and closing time. We had tourists who were lingering over their lunch, not picking up on the obvious clue that we were closing. Or not caring. It didn’t matter. I had baked the cakes I was going to serve tomorrow, but they still needed to be decorated. I’d be around for a while, I could clean up after them when they’d gone and move on with my day.
We had vanilla cake left from today’s baking. I had expected we would which was why I had made it. After I finished here, I was going home to get ready for my date with Simon—my…was he a boyfriend? I wasn’t sure. But he was grilling steaks, and I was bringing salad, cake, and wine. I had no doubt that butter slathered potatoes would be put in the oven and that I’d be glad it was him grilling out on his deck given that it was December and the ocean air went straight to your bones. I had already tucked two bottles of wine in my bag, made the salad, and would be free after I decorated tomorrow’s cakes.
Simon was a man of simple tastes which irritated me to no end. The dressing for the salad was ranch because he only ate boring food. I sighed. A part of me wanted to bring the exotic cake I’d made and watch him squirm. That lavender cake over there was amazing. The honey frosting and sugared flowers took it to a whole other level. I knew he’d hate it. Simon would eat it and smile a smile that would never reach his eyes. Even still, he’d compliment the cake carefully.
He might say, ‘It’s so lovely.’ Or, ‘You worked so hard on this one.’
“So,” Zee said, cutting into my thoughts, “We’ll have bags of the donated cookies. Everyone will donate 150-250 small cookies, we’ll bag them together. Then people who have purchased will vote on which is the best cookie and where to donate the money.”
I’d have said I didn’t care, but if people were buying cookies, they wouldn’t be buying cake. We’d lose out on the money. Though, the profits from the cookies would go to charity. I supposed I could get behind that. Especially given that dogs and cats were the recipients.
“I have already talked to Justine, Meredith, Harriet, Glory, Jacob, Kenneth, Sue, Donna, and Bobby,” Zee said. I could see that I was going to have zero votes on what happened. I decided that was fine before Zee was even aware that I was considering objecting.
“Of course, you’ll need to bake some too. Other than me, you’re the best baker in town.”
I stopped counting the till at that comment and said, “Really?”
“I have won the bake-off during the Peony Festival and the pie contest during the 12 Days of Pie every year. I am the best baker in this town. Probably on all of the Oregon Coast.”
My eyes narrowed, and I realized that I was thinking that I’d take her down.
Zee read my mind and smirked before she snapped, “Bring it, princess.”
Oooh, I thought. You never would have thought I was her boss. Probably because most days I found myself doing what she said. I couldn’t even help it—she was just always right. Grow a spine, Rose, I told myself.
“Now Zee,” our cook, Az, said in his thick Jamaican accent. “Be nice.”
“I am,” Zee snapped. “I could say a lot more things than that.”
“But you won’t,” Az said. “Since it’s Christmas time and a season for kindness. Plus she’s our boss. Rose, my luv, I made the ch
ocolate buttercream frosting and the cream cheese frosting, and the pies you made are in the oven. They have a few more minutes on the clock and—might I say—they smell amazing.”
“Rose isn’t going to fire me,” Zee said, ignoring the business side of Az’s speech. “You trying to get some time off?”
“I need to be late tomorrow,” he said simply and gave me an engaging grin.
Zee scoffed. I nodded at Az, and he winked at me.
My eyes narrowed again on Zee even though we all knew Zee would never be fired. She wasn’t just very, very good in the diner—she knew it better than the rest of us put together. And then there was how it was harder than you’d think to find good help. We’d been through four waiters since I bought the diner.
“The puddings for the chocolate cream pie and the coconut?” I asked Az, hoping Zee would stop harassing me.
“They’re in the fridge, my Rose. The crusts are done and wrapped tight. The kitchen is clean.”
“If those two would leave,” Zee said, turning to face the customers. Before I could stop her, she crossed to them and informed them that the 2nd Chance Diner was closing.
I gave her a look, but Zee just raised her brows at me, and took off her apron. I admit that I was glad they were gone even though they shorted the tip. Zee finished counting the tip money and I dropped the money in the safe.
“Rose’s ego isn’t the problem,” Zee announced as Az wrapped his scarf around his neck. “She’ll lose gracefully. It’s Donna, Meredith, and Bobby. Donna, though, that woman is a rabid snake crossed with a crocodile.”
“Who’s Donna?” I asked. I hadn’t lived in Silver Falls long enough to know everyone by their first names like Zee did. Zee knew their family history and dirty secrets too. It was just her way.
“The mean one with the pink hair from knitting circle,” Zee said.
Oh..yeah…that woman was endlessly a problem. She’d made the woman who knitted only for the animal shelter cry. The week before that at knitting circle the sweet lady, Meredith, picked up her cane, slapped Donna, and strode out as gracefully as was possible with a cane. She didn’t come back the next week and a part of me was waiting to hear that a new non-Donna craft group had been set up.
I would join that group in a second. I’d almost quit the knitting circle a few times, but I hated knitting and loved listening to the small-town gossip so much. They were just so vicious. For a group of small-town women, I had expected them to talk about charitable work and grandchildren. The number of them who had lovers was shocking. I leaned down and scratched my sweet, Daisy’s floppy ears, pressed noses with her, and then accepted her kiss on my cheek.
“I’ll grab the mountain side cookies in the morning,” Zee said handing me a paper before she stepped out the door. “You’ll need to grab the ocean side. They’re aware you’re coming early.”
I blinked and before I could object, Zee was gone. I glanced at Az who grinned at me, shook his head, and said, “You gonna do it?”
I considered, glanced down at Daisy, and the image of my Daisy in a shelter flashed across my mind. For the dogs and cats, I supposed I would.
* * * * *
“Why do you have that look on your face?”
I glanced over at Simon, set aside my knife and fork, and said, “What do you mean?”
Simon played with his wine glass and then said, “I’m starting to get to know you a little better.”
“Zee has me running around as her servant again,” I said. The food has been wonderful, but I was full and just enjoying the sound of the wind from the incoming storm, the way the rain was hitting the windows, and the flicker of the candles Simon had lit.
“You don’t have to do what she wants you to do.”
“I know,” I admitted, “But I like her and working with her is fun.”
“She’s never going to be anything other than how you know her,” he told me. “She was just the same with Jenny.”
“True,” I said. “And the Christmas cookie thing will be over in a few days.”
His fingers played with mine and then he said, “We’re still decorating the Christmas tree at the diner this Sunday?”
I nodded, and we curled up on his couch with his puppy Duke, my puppy Daisy, and his ancient lab, Petey. There was something about watching The Muppet Christmas Carol and then It’s a Wonderful Life. The fire was going, and I had a hot toddy in my hand which was lovely. With Simon’s arms around my shoulders, my Christmas season was starting just right.
Chapter 2
Five AM did not come gracefully. I had stayed too late with Simon and the things I called Zee as I got ready for work were nasty. I could have had at least 30 more minutes if I didn’t have to be gathering cookies. And I had yet to make mine. I knew she’d start harassing me the moment I walked into the diner. Plus, we had two new waitstaff and a busboy starting that day. I took my ibuprofen and coffee with ill-grace, and started my Forrester with an even worse attitude.
Daisy barked at me, and I glanced over at her sweet dark brown eyes and said, “Arg.”
She sniffed and then licked my hand, and I put my car in reverse, took a too large mouthful of too hot coffee and whimpered.
Silver Falls, Oregon was a small little town centered around a state park where a waterfall fell onto the beach below and the into the ocean. I had been living in a rental cottage right on the ocean since I’d moved from Gresham, Oregon. Which is why I had the list of houses on the beach side of the town, my phone rang through my car and I answered it at as I waited for the foggy window to defrost.
“Have you got the first batch yet?”
“No,” I said, slurring a bit because of my burned tongue.
Zee snorted and then said, “I suppose I’ll be opening the diner by myself. They can have a second chance for breakfast across the street.”
I growled a little bit and then said, “Why are we even picking these up? Can’t they deliver?”
“Sure if you want to wait for them to come all day long so Donna can roll in before closing time.”
My eye twitched at that. I didn’t see what was so difficult about making them deliver, but it was clearly too late to argue with Zee about it.
“She’s done it before,” Zee said sounding as irritated as I was feeling. “That way her cookies were the freshest and everyone else’s were a bit stale. It was the only time she came even close to matching my cookies.”
I took a deep breath and said, “I don’t care who wins.”
Right then, I cared that I was missing out on extra sleep.
“This is what comes from not looking beyond yourself. You young people these days are so self-involved and unwilling to assist the unfortunate.”
I was finally able to see through the fogged over dew on my car and said, “I knitted scarves with you for that woman’s shelter. I’m pretty sure I bought all the yarn.”
Zee snorted and then said, “You young people…”
I cut her off and said, “We give food to the shelter all the time. The 2nd Chance Diner is providing pies for Christmas day and Christmas Eve for the shelter.”
“All of which I had to push you into.”
I took a deep calming breath and reminded myself that I had to work with her for the entirety of the day. I could be bigger than this.
“Oh look,” I lied. “I’m at the first place.”
I hung up on her before I explained what a nasty, crotchety, contrary, rude, loud-mouthed, horrible old woman she was. I focused on finding the turn off of Main Street to Petticoat Lane and then followed the curving road up to the bluff where a string of handsome houses overlooked the sea.
The first stop was for Henrietta Golden. It was Henrietta who’d alerted me first to how horrible the next stop was. Donna Shrap was the sort of nasty old crone that made Zee look like Mrs. Santa Claus. I’d witnessed Henrietta slap Donna and days later I’d witnessed Roxy Landover—a 16-year-old girl meet Donna’s eyes and flee my diner.
During the knitting c
ircle, I’d joined, I’d seen a woman named Shawn Robinette rise from the circle, stab her needles repetitively into the table she’d been sitting at, leaving huge gouges and then run out of the house. She’d just talked to Donna and when Donna had seen it, she’d simply smiled and told the host, “Those scratches aren’t coming out any time soon, dear.”
Henrietta’s hatred was the one who gave me pause though. It was Henrietta who’d slapped Donna with elegant disdain and then poured hot tea over her head. Henrietta’s Victorian style house had the Christmas lights on and the trees in her yard were decorated with red and silver glass balls. I smiled as I walked up the path and knocked on the door. She opened promptly with her hair in a chignon, her makeup perfect—lipstick included—and her contralto voice was smooth, unlike my croak.
“Oh hello dear,” Henrietta said, handing me a box of cookies. “I know you’re in a hurry, but it’s so great of you to do this for the animals. So frustrating that we have so many pets in shelters instead of homes.”
I forced a smile which was far too hard to do at 5:00 am. I started to thank her and then asked, “Do you smell something?”
What was that? It wasn’t right. If my thinking were straighter at that moment, I’d have recognized it immediately, but I was not at the top of my game.
“Those are more cookies, dear. I’m making some for my grandchildren too. We’ll decorate later…”
“No,” I said, slowly turning. “Do you…oh goodness, no.”
I dropped the box of cookies. There…smoke. It seemed like it was coming from the ocean, but it was really coming from the house that was right on the edge of the bluff neighborhood with the best view of the ocean. I ran into the street and looked down towards that last house. And there it was, smoke pouring from a house, flames on the roof. I pulled out my phone as Jane came darting out of her house directly across the street.
Three Carols of Cozy Christmas Murder Page 18
