The way he asked us if he could borrow Mark made it sound like he was snatching him away from his fan club. The man was irritating, I’d give him that much. And the worst part was he was put together in a very attractive package. Pinky called him “eye candy.” I secretly agreed with her.
I’d known Clint back when we were in high school, but I hadn’t had any real contact with him until I discovered the dead body of the most unpopular man in Brooks Landing last month. I was thrown into the large mix of suspects in the murder investigation. All because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and did the wrong thing when I saw a knife sticking out of the victim’s back. Yes, it was stupid of me to grab the knife to see if it was really stuck, but it was an honest mistake, a natural reaction to a shocking situation, if you ask me. The police officials, however, did not see it that way. Eventually, it was all sorted out and the real killer was named. Sadly, it was our older friend, Archie Newberry, who under ordinary circumstances would not even hurt another human being.
Mark left our table, and he and Clint sat down at another. Erin, Pinky, and I took that as our cue to leave. We headed into Curio Finds together.
“Well, I have errands to run, so I’ll catch you two later,” Erin said.
“Adios, and don’t worry your pretty little head about our short-term help,” Pinky said to Erin’s back as she went out the front door. Erin turned and waved.
“So we’re good? Or did Erin and Mark going ballistic on us make you change your mind?” Pinky said.
“Their reaction kind of surprised me. And as much as I value their opinions, I say we give our two ladies a call and see if they still want a job.”
“Okay, I’ll call the princess—I can’t believe I’m offering to do that—and you call Emmy. Let’s see if they can start tomorrow so they’re trained before Thanksgiving.”
“Sounds good to me. And you need to get out of the habit of calling her the princess, my friend.”
Pinky lifted her hands in the air and gave them a shake. “I suppose.” Her shop phone rang and she left to answer it.
I was about to call Emmy when Mark and Clint popped their heads into the archway between the shops on their way out.
“Think about what Erin and I said,” Mark said.
“Good-bye, Camryn,” Clint said.
I’d legally changed my name from Cami to Camryn before I went to Washington because it sounded more professional. My family and oldest friends still called me Cami, but since Clint and I had gotten off on the wrong foot, I stubbornly insisted he call me by my proper name. Maybe it was silly, or childish, but since he got under my skin so often, I felt compelled to do so.
“Have a good night, officers,” I said, mildly curious about what they were working on. Police work intrigued me, but the thought of carrying a gun was enough to throw me into a mild panic attack. And driving fast with sirens blaring and lights flashing would be too far outside my comfort zone to even consider. Not to mention what I’d do if I had to run after a bad guy who was escaping. I was the slowest runner I knew, and I’d be the laughingstock of the town. According to Mark, police officers had to pass certain fitness standards. Although, looking at some of the out-of-shape people in uniform, it made me wonder what standards those departments had. But that was another matter.
I picked up the phone to call Emmy as Pinky poked her head in the archway. “Princess Molly will be here at ten o’clock tomorrow. And I told her to dress in normal clothes.”
“Pinky, what did you say, exactly?”
“I was tactful, sort of. I suggested she make a trip to the secondhand store if she had time today to pick up something less expensive than she usually wears.”
“You did not.”
“That’s pretty much what I said.”
Oh Lord. Maybe I should have made the call. “Did she sound like you insulted her?”
“Insulted her? I don’t think so. Maybe she sounded a little surprised when she said, ‘Okay.’” The bell on her door dinged, so she left to wait on her customers.
Emmy answered the phone with more cheer in her voice than usual. When I told her we’d love it if she would help us out over the holidays, a small squeal popped out of her mouth. “I will be there promptly at ten o’clock tomorrow morning when you open your shop, Camryn.”
“Wonderful. And to let you know, Pinky and I decided to hire both you and the, um, I mean Molly Dalton.”
Her balloon of enthusiasm instantly deflated. “Oh. Well, I’ll do my best to get along with her.”
“Emmy, do you have a problem with Molly?”
She hesitated. “No, no, not really. It’ll be fine.”
“All right then. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, and thank you.” Her voice had quieted, and I hoped it wasn’t because she didn’t want to work with Molly. They would be sharing a position, so they wouldn’t be working together often, but there were times they would be.
I found Pinky behind her serving counter washing mugs. “I’m wondering if Erin and Mark were right. Maybe we should have advertised for help. You have to tell Molly what not to wear, and Emmy seems less than thrilled Molly will be her partner in crime.”
“Cami, it will all work out. You know how fast time goes. Christmas will be here before you know it, then Molly and Emmy can go back to their normal routines, and we’ll go back to ours.”
“I suppose. How bad can it be?”
We had no idea it would go from bad to worse to worst.
—
I barely slept a wink that night wondering how the next day’s training would go. Since Molly and Emmy would be working limited hours for less than six weeks, my parents suggested that we hire them on as contract workers to avoid all the extra paperwork required by the state for regular employees. They had both agreed to those terms, and neither cared what they got paid, or if they got paid at all.
I rolled out of bed wishing I had slept more than a few hours but hopeful things would go well. I showered and dressed and put on my usual light dose of makeup without trying to cover the light freckles that sprinkled my nose and cheekbones. A few people had told me they gave me a youthful look. I was thirty-seven and never really thought about how old I looked. And I had quit fretting about the generous curves I carried.
A final check in the mirror confirmed I was good to go in my flowing navy skirt and ivory blouse. My wardrobe was not in the same league as Molly’s, but it was of good quality. I had a number of suits, both with pants and skirts, and I often combined a jacket with a nice pair of jeans, or a silk blouse with a skirt. Not too dressy, not overly casual. Just right for me.
—
When I got to work, Pinky was hustling around in her shop, cleaning up after her morning rush. “What are you doing here so early?” she said.
I glanced up at the Betty Boop “Boop-Oop-a-Doop” clock that hung on the wall behind her counter. “I thought I’d get a jump on the day, seeing how we’ve got some job training to do. I’m going to write down procedures, like how to run the cash register till, how to ring it out, things like that.”
“Good idea. Cami, as long as you’re here, would you mind covering for me while I run to the grocery store? I went through more milk and cream this morning than usual.”
“With it getting colder, that makes perfect sense. My parents used to tell me we need to put a little meat on our bones for extra insulation during our long winters. I know I get hungrier when it gets colder.”
“Yeah, I think they’re right. Milk and cream definitely add calories.” She grabbed her pocketbook from a cupboard under the counter. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
A minute later the bell on her door dinged. I tensed up a bit when I saw it was assistant police chief Clinton Lonsbury and wondered why he had that effect on me. Clint wore his usual serious look all the way to the counter. “Good morning. I didn’t expect to
see you here.”
“I run the adjoining shop and make my way in here from time to time.” As if he didn’t know. My words came out with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
He nodded slowly. “Where’s Pinky?”
“Running an errand. Do you need her?”
“Not specifically. I stopped in for a cup of coffee.”
Be nice to the patrons, Cami. “I’m covering for Pinky. What can I get you?”
Clint glanced up at the menu. The featured brew of the day was the Gobbler, a dark blend with spices and cream. “I’ll take the special, heavy on the cream.”
My face broke out in a huge smile.
“What’s funny?” he said.
“You just gave further support to my parents’ theory that we need extra calories in the winter.”
He shrugged. “I guess we do. Shivering in subzero temperatures burns ’em all off.”
I turned and walked to the other side of the counter, keeping my back to him so he wouldn’t notice how his comment tickled my funny bone. I served up his drink and set it down in front of him. He settled down on a seat at the counter and took a slurping sip that was so loud it sounded like he was wearing a microphone.
A shudder ran through me. “Honestly, Clint, with all the cream in there, your coffee cannot possibly be that hot.”
He didn’t care in the least. “Force of habit, I guess.”
I considered making it my mission in life to break him of that annoying habit. There must be a guide out there somewhere with tips. There certainly were all kinds of them for things like quitting smoking and biting fingernails and cracking knuckles.
“I’d like a box of a dozen muffins and scones to take back to the station with me. We have a meeting later this morning.”
“Sure. What kind do you want?”
“A mix, half muffins, half scones, is fine. Blueberry is a favorite, so put in a couple of those. And whatever else you pick will work. They’ll all go.”
It was nice to have an excuse to make a little noise myself to cover the sound of his slurps. I filled the box and added the extra muffin Pinky always insisted on with a larger order; a baker’s dozen. “Here you go. Anything else?”
“Yes, if you could put this in a to-go cup.” He slid his mug toward me.
Thank God, that meant he was going to leave. “Sure thing.” He paid for his purchases and was out the door and on to other things in no time.
Another man came in a little while later, and when I saw who it was, I was too stunned to move. Peter Zimmer was walking toward me, in person. “Your shop door is locked,” he said.
“Uh, um, we don’t open until ten,” I stammered until it hit me how angry I was that he had the audacity to come within ten miles of me. “Why are you here? And don’t try to tell me something stupid, like you’re looking for a gift to cheer up your wife.”
A red flush crept up his neck and colored his face. “It would take more than that. You should have been smart enough to support her campaign. You would have if you planned on returning to D.C. Ramona knows enough people to prevent you from ever getting a job there.”
“Ever? Peter, I cannot believe you are actually threatening me. You’re the one who caused the whole fiasco in the first place.”
He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I’m willing to put any hard feelings aside if you want to get together to finish what we started.”
I picked up a mug, drew it back like it was a baseball, but stopped before I pitched it at Peter’s head. “You need to leave immediately, or I will call the police.”
He glared at me, and a stab of fear pierced me. I wondered if he’d come after me. I wrapped my fingers around a knife Pinky used to cut muffins and scones. If the man took one step closer, I’d hold it up to show him I meant business. Whether I could actually use the knife, I wasn’t sure. Even on Mr. Peter Zimmer, the lowest of the low.
Had he truly cared about his wife, or her career, he would not have acted as he did, time and time again. The Zimmers could cast blame on me until hell froze over, but I was not at fault, and the sooner they realized that, the sooner they could get on with their lives. Together or apart, it no longer mattered to me.
Peter turned to leave and literally ran into Pinky in the doorway. He stormed out, forcing her to step aside with her bag of groceries. I rushed over to help her regain her balance.
“Wowser, that guy is either in one big hurry or totally absorbed in something.”
“You’re right. He is totally absorbed in something all right: himself. That was Peter Zimmer.”
“No. Oh my gosh, I didn’t recognize him. In the pictures I saw of him, he was always smiling. He looked kind of scary just now with that scowl on his face. What was he doing here in Brooks Landing? Did he come to apologize to you, or what?”
“Not even close. He is stuck in the same old blame game crap, among other things.”
“Of all the nerve.”
“All I want is to forget about what happened and chalk it up as a life lesson I will never have to study again.” I looked at the time. “We have Emmy and Molly due in a half hour, and I still have to write out those instructions.”
“You’re right. We have more important things to concentrate on.” Pinky emptied her grocery bag, put the milk and cream in the refrigerator under her counter, and headed to the back room with the rest of her baking items.
—
Emmy reported for work at ten minutes to ten, wearing a shy smile, brown woolen pants, and a coordinating earth-toned sweater. Molly arrived a short time later, acting jumpy and dressed like a vagrant. I almost didn’t recognize her. Emmy frowned and pursed her lips in disapproval.
Molly stared at my face, which I’m sure displayed total disbelief. “Isn’t this okay?” she said.
“Uh, I’ll be right back,” I said. Pinky was in the back room, and I hustled to find her. “Wait ’til you see what the cat dragged in. Molly took you literally and I think did a little dumpster diving for clothes the secondhand stores discarded,” I whispered.
“Cami, you must be exaggerating. How bad can it be?” She peeked around the corner for a glimpse at our new help. When she pulled her head back in, both her eyes and mouth were opened wide. “Oh my gosh. She can’t serve customers in that getup. You’re going to have to tell her.” Her whisper was probably loud enough for Molly to hear.
I shook my head. “Me? You’re the one who told her to buy some new used old clothes.”
“Okay, okay.”
We left our hiding place to face the music. Emmy and Molly were still glued to their spots, standing by Pinky’s counter. They kept their eyes peeled on us as we walked toward them.
Pinky pointed at a menu. “Emmy, if you want to sit down at the counter here and read over all the coffee and drink specials we offer, that’d be great. Cami and Molly and I are going to get started in Curio Finds.”
Emmy didn’t ask any questions. She nodded, sat down, picked up a menu, and minded her own business. Or pretended to, at least. Pinky led the way, followed by Molly then me. She marched to the storeroom in the back of my shop. When we were all inside, I closed the door.
Molly’s lips quivered, and it seemed tears would closely follow. “Am I in trouble already?” she said.
“No,” I said.
“Not really,” Pinky said.
“Not really?” Molly said.
Pinky put her hand to her nose. “It’s your outfit. I mean, have you been storing it since high school in mothballs?”
Now that we were in a confined space with the door closed, the odor was strong and distinctive. Molly lifted her arm to her nose and inhaled deeply. “I don’t have a very good sense of smell. Like I pretty much can’t smell at all. I found this sweater and pants at the thrift store. There wasn’t a lot in my size, and they were trying to close up for the day, so I didn’t have enough t
ime to shop.”
“Molly, I’m sorry, this really isn’t what I meant. I should have been more specific. Those old V-neck sweaters are supposed to be worn over a shirt, not without one. I know a lot of women wear low-cut tops, but it would be too much for our customers. If you bent over, we’d see everything. Even with that purple bandana thing tied around your neck,” Pinky said.
“And, no offense, but the way you are stuffed into those gold metallic pants, I don’t think you could bend over if you tried,” I added.
Tears filled Molly’s eyes then ran down her cheeks. “I was just trying to fit in. I mean, Pinky, you’re always wearing pink, so I thought the turquoise top would be a good complement.”
Pinky looked at the wall behind me and pointed. “Cami, what about that outfit? The one you keep here, in case?” Molly and I turned and assessed the outfit Pinky was talking about: a pair of gray pants, a pale gray button-down shirt, and a wool shrug. “You two are about the same size.”
Molly looked at me. “I’m a couple of inches shorter, so the pants will be too long.” Her voice bordered on whining, and I tried my best not to feel irritated.
“Cami, what if you put on the gray outfit and give Molly the one you’re wearing? For today, until she can get herself something similar.”
Heaven help me, I said I’d do it. Molly definitely could not work in our shops dressed as she was, and reeking of mothballs besides. There was a hesitant knock on the door. Pinky opened it to Emmy.
“I’m sorry, but there are a number of customers, and I won’t be able to help them like you can, not yet, anyway,” Emmy said.
“I’m on it.” Pinky flew out to rescue Emmy.
“Okay, Molly, do you need some help peeling off those pants?” I closed the storeroom door for privacy.
She sniffled. “I can manage.” She did, too, with quite a bit of effort.
I slipped out of my skirt and shirt and laid them on a chair for Molly. Then I put on the spare outfit I kept at Curio Finds in case I spilled coffee all over myself, or if I had to be somewhere after work but didn’t have time to go home to change. I used my “in case” outfit every couple of weeks, it seemed.
The Iced Princess Page 3
