A Roux of Revenge

by Connie Archer

  Lucky heard a rap on the glass of the front door. Sophie Colgan stood outside. She wiggled her fingers in greeting as Lucky rose to let her in.

  Sophie reached out and gave her a quick hug. “Just here to meet my honey. Is he in the kitchen?”

  Lucky laughed. “Where else?” She and Sophie had been childhood friends until Lucky left town to attend college in Madison. A rift had formed between them, mostly caused by Sophie’s resentment. Events over the past months had healed the wound, and now their friendship was renewed, stronger than ever.

  “Go right in. You know where you’ll find him,” Lucky answered.

  “We have to get together this week—with you and Elias. You have a night that’s good?”

  “Sure. Any night. No special plans this week. Just give me a call or stop by.”

  “Great.” Sophie beamed.

  Lucky sensed there was something on the tip of Sophie’s tongue. “What’s going on?” She looked at her friend quizzically.

  “Oh, nothing,” Sophie replied breezily. “We’ll catch up later.”

  Lucky followed Sophie’s progress to the kitchen. Something was happening. Sophie was usually upbeat, but now it seemed as if she were barely holding back a happy secret.

  A few minutes later, Sage called through the hatch. “Hey, Lucky. I’m taking off.”

  “Night, Sage. See you tomorrow.”

  “Need any help with anything?”

  “No. We’re fine. You two go on,” Lucky called back. She heard the back door slam as Sage and Sophie left together.

  Nate rose from his chair. “I should get going too. Susanna’s gonna wonder what happened to me. Thanks for the sandwich, folks. What do I owe you?”

  “Put your money away,” Jack replied. “You’re not allowed to pay after two bells. You know that.” Jack, a Navy veteran, always told time by the bells. Other than Lucky, no one else could ever translate Jack’s references. She knew two bells at this time of night meant it was after nine o’clock.

  Nate smiled. “You’re a stubborn old cuss, Jack, you know that?”

  “Who you callin’ old?” Jack grumbled.

  Chapter 6

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING the Spoonful was packed with customers. One of Jack’s CDs was playing—this time an upbeat big band sound. Lucky hadn’t seen Hank or Barry yet, which was surprising. They were usually the earliest arrivals. She knew most of the residents in town, if not personally, then at least by sight. Snowflake’s population was 950 at last count—since one of Elias’s patients had given birth. But today it was obvious Nate was correct. There were a lot of strangers in town. She spotted Ernie White, the organizer of the Harvest Festival, at a table with two men who seemed to defer to him. Undoubtedly they were in his employ.

  She looked up as Horace Winthorpe came through the front door and waved to her. Horace had become one of the Spoonful’s regulars as well. And he was not just a favorite customer; Horace had become a friend. He was a retired professor of history, working on a book about the Revolutionary War. Fortunately for Lucky, Horace had agreed to rent her parents’ home on a long-term basis. Horace looked toward the corner table where Hank and Barry usually sat. It was still empty. He approached the counter.

  “Good morning, Lucky. Hank and Barry aren’t here yet?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not yet. But I’m sure they’ll be in soon.”

  “Well, I’ll just sit here so I can visit with you,” he said, sliding onto a stool left by a departing customer.

  “What would you like?”

  “It’s a little early, but I’d like to try that new Persian pumpkin rice. That sounds intriguing. Do you know what spices Sage uses?”

  “He told me—not sure if I can remember them all—cardamom, cinnamon, coriander, turmeric, nutmeg and don’t quote me, but I heard him say something about rose petals.”

  “A large bowl, please. That sounds enticing.”

  Sage knew the pumpkin soup would be a big hit this week. He had prepared three mini sample cups, now sitting on the hatch in case anyone wanted an early taste.

  Lucky turned and grabbed one of the small cups. “One large bowl coming right up. But have one of these first, if you like. You haven’t forgotten Jack’s pumpkin-carving contest, have you?”

  “Not at all. I plan to bring my entry over.”

  “Don’t forget to deliver it secretly. You can bring it to the back door, and I’ll assign a number.”

  Sage was tapping at the bell on the hatch behind her. She turned and saw him point to the corridor outside the kitchen. That meant someone had come in through the back door. She nodded to Sage and slipped through the swinging door into the corridor. Hank and Barry were standing outside the door to her office with their jack-o’-lanterns in their arms.

  “Hey, Lucky,” Barry called. “We didn’t want to come in the front door with these. I’m sure I’ll win, but I do want the vote to be impartial.”

  Hank sniffed loudly.

  Lucky stood back to admire their handiwork. “Those are great! Thank you.” She led them into the small office and took the carved pumpkins from their arms. “Barry, you’ll be number four, Hank, number five.” She quickly jotted the numbers on two small pieces of card stock with a marker. “I’ll bring them out in a minute. You can go right through to the restaurant.”

  The men nodded and walked down the corridor to the front room. Lucky waited a few minutes more and then carried the two jack-o’-lanterns out to the restaurant and put them on the long table. She placed the cards into holders in front of each pumpkin. When she returned to the counter, Horace was gone. Meg had delivered his order and he had carried his soup to the corner table to sit with Hank and Barry.

  • • •

  JANIE AND MEG bustled between tables, taking orders while Lucky manned the counter and Jack perched on his stool behind the cash register. Meg deftly grabbed dishes from the kitchen hatch and matched them with the order slips. The two girls didn’t miss a beat. Janie seemed to fly between tables, while Meg moved slowly, double-checking her orders, but efficient nonetheless. In another quarter of an hour most of these people would be on their way, and the staff could all take a breather.

  Lucky peered through the hatch into the kitchen where Sage was lining up plates and rapidly buttering slices of toast. “You need any help in there?” she called to him.

  He looked up and smiled. “Nah. I’m fine. Sophie’s stopping by again today, and she’ll give me a hand.”

  Lucky was relieved to hear they’d have a little extra help this morning. She hadn’t expected such a crowd, but she wasn’t complaining. Less than a year ago the Spoonful had been facing bankruptcy when a body had been found behind the restaurant and Sage himself had been arrested for the crime.

  During the winter months Sophie worked as a ski instructor at the Snowflake Resort at the top of the mountain. Her off season schedule was light. But Lucky knew that in a month or so, Sophie would be far too busy to stop in at the Spoonful and lend a hand.

  Lucky jumped involuntarily when plates crashed to the floor. She scanned the room. Janie stood at a table by the front window. Her face was bright red. She apologized to her customers and rushed toward the kitchen to replace the order. Lucky could tell she was horribly embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she passed by the counter. “It just slipped out of my hand.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lucky replied. “I’ll clean up.” She glanced over the counter. Everyone was set for a minute or two. She followed Janie into the kitchen and grabbed a dustpan and broom and a wet cloth. She hurried back to the table, apologized to the couple who sat by the window and quickly cleaned up the spilled food and broken china. As she carried the debris to the dustbin in the kitchen, she passed Janie, rushing her order back. Janie’s face was blotchy and red. She looked on the verge of tears.

  Lucky returned to the counter and refilled several cups of coffee. She cleared away dishes from patrons who were preparing to l
eave. She wondered again if most of these people were working at the Harvest Festival in some capacity. They all seemed to be on the same schedule. Once the rush died down and only a few stragglers remained, Lucky peeked through the hatch and spotted Janie in the kitchen. Lucky pushed through the swinging door and approached the girl, who stood at the worktable, slicing tomatoes. “Janie, it’s all right. It was just a couple of dishes. It’s nothing.”

  Janie had been crying; Lucky was sure of it. She glanced over at Sage who diplomatically pretended not to notice.

  Lucky took her hand. “Come into the office with me?”

  “No. No. I’m all right, Lucky. Really, I am.”

  “You don’t look all right. Come on.” Half pulling on Janie’s hand, Lucky led her down the hall and into her small office.

  Janie’s eyes were rimmed with red. Lucky gently pushed her into a chair in front of the desk and sat across from her. “Something’s wrong. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

  “I’m real sorry I dropped that dish and right in front of those two customers.”

  “This isn’t about the dish.”

  Janie swallowed. “You’re right. It’s just . . . I saw him again. That man.”

  “The same man? The one you saw yesterday? Where?”

  “Across the street. Watching the Spoonful again. When I looked up, I could’ve sworn he was staring right at me.”

  “I think I’m going to have a talk with that guy. I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “Well, that’s not the only reason I got so upset. Not really. Although it was kinda creepy. But there’s something else.” Janie paused for breath. “Yesterday . . . when I got home . . . I mentioned it to my mom—you know, how I’ve noticed this man a bunch of times around town. It seems like I’ve seen him wherever I’ve been.”

  “I’m sure she’s concerned for the same reason I am.”

  “Well, that’s just it. Not really. She got mad. She started grilling me about where I was and what I was doing. She was really angry at me, Lucky.” The tears started to flow again. “And I don’t know why. It was like I did something wrong. And I didn’t.”

  Lucky was reminded again how young and sheltered Janie was. Seeing her every day at the restaurant, marveling at her efficiency, it was easy to assume Janie was much more of an adult than she really was. The truth was that Janie was a kid just out of high school.

  “I doubt she was really mad at you or thought you did anything wrong. Maybe she was just frightened some man might be bothering you.” Lucky waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, she continued, “Just remember, she’s trying to adjust to being alone.” Lucky softened her voice. “Your Dad’s passing has been really hard for her. She wants to protect you, and she’s probably worrying too much about everything.”

  Lucky reached across the desk and retrieved a box of tissues. “Here. Blow your nose and wipe your eyes. I’m sure your mom felt bad as soon as she jumped on you. You’ll go home tonight, and she’ll apologize.”

  “I guess,” Janie replied, not sounding too sure of her mother’s apology at all.

  “She will. I can’t imagine how much I’d worry if I had a young daughter and I was alone in the world. You’ll see.”

  Janie sniffled and wiped her cheeks. “Thanks, Lucky. You’re the best.”

  Lucky reached over and gave her a quick hug. “Stay here for a few minutes if you like. Meg and I will be fine.”

  Janie nodded sheepishly. “Okay. Just for a minute if that’s okay. I’ll be out front in a bit.”

  Lucky slipped out the door and went down the hall to the kitchen.

  Sage looked up. The counter was piled with chopped vegetables. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure. She’ll be fine. Fight with Mom, that’s all.”

  Sage smiled ruefully and returned to his work.

  Chapter 7

  LUCKY FOUND MARJORIE and Cecily at the counter when she returned. Meg had already filled their order of tea and croissants while other customers had paid and left. Lucky quickly cleared away the cups, saucers and dishes, dropping them into a large plastic bin, and wiped off the counter. She approached the sisters.

  “More tea?”

  “No dear, we’re fine,” Marjorie replied. “We need to get to the shop.”

  “You’re earlier than usual today,” Lucky observed.

  “Yes. We decided that with all these new people coming through town, we’d have a bit more business.”

  The bell over the door rang, and an older gentleman in casual clothes stepped in. He approached the counter and took a seat one stool away from Cecily. Cecily, always friendly and outgoing, smiled and said hello.

  “How do you do?” he replied, smiling in their direction.

  “Would you like some coffee to start?” Lucky asked the new arrival.

  “Yes. I’d love some.” He checked the blackboard on the wall. “How about a bowl of that pumpkin rice soup?”

  “Sure,” Lucky smiled. “We have some very fresh bakery rolls in today too.”

  “That would be great.” He smiled charmingly, first at Lucky and then again at Cecily.

  Lucky noticed Cecily quickly checking her hair as though concerned about her appearance. She sat a little straighter on her stool while her sister Marjorie, on her other side, glanced coolly at the newcomer.

  “Are you here for the Harvest Festival?” Cecily asked the stranger.

  “Uh, no. But I’ve heard about the festival. Is it interesting?”

  “Oh yes. It’s quite fun. Lots of things for the little kids with Halloween and all, but the smaller local farms bring their organic produce and handmade goods—all sorts of things to buy.

  “Do you live in the area?” Cecily chirped.

  “Actually, no. I live closer to Bennington, but I like to take day trips. Now that I’m retired I have way too much time on my hands.”

  “Oh, how nice. To be retired, I mean. What sort of work did you do?”

  Lucky set the bowl of soup and a bread plate with a roll and butter on the placemat. She caught Marjorie giving her sister a discreet nudge with her elbow. Marjorie, the more reserved of the two, was undoubtedly letting her sister know she was being too forward with a strange man. Cecily ignored the signal and continued to smile.

  “Well, I’m an . . . I was an insurance investigator. In a way maybe I still am.” He smiled sheepishly. “Can’t teach an old dog and all that. Can’t really let it go.” He reached across the empty stool and offered his hand. “Joe Conrad.”

  Cecily shook the proffered hand. “I’m Cecily Winters . . . and this is my sister Marjorie.”

  Joe Conrad half stood respectfully. “Very pleased to meet you both. And do you ladies live in Snowflake?”

  “Yes, we do,” Cecily said. Marjorie sniffed audibly. Cecily continued, “We have the Off Broadway ladies’ shop just down the street.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, you’re very lucky. It’s a lovely little town.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Cecily simpered.

  Joe picked up his spoon and tasted the soup. He looked up at Lucky. “This is delicious.” He continued to sample the soup and broke open the roll. He turned to Cecily. “You know . . . I heard . . .” He trailed off. “Well, never mind that.”

  “What is it? You were about to say something?”

  Joe Conrad cleared his throat. “Well, I overheard a conversation when I stopped at the market a little while ago. Something about a man found dead in a car crash. Have you heard about this?”

  Cecily gasped. “No. I haven’t. Have you?” She looked at Lucky.

  Lucky was privy to the information only because Nate had stopped in at the Spoonful the night before. It was his habit to drop by when the restaurant was closed to talk to Jack. Nate respected the older man and enjoyed hearing Jack’s perspective on things. She wasn’t about to give out any details of Nate’s plans to identify the dead man. “I had heard a rumor, but that’s all I know,” she answered diplomatically.

  �
�Ah.” Joe Conrad nodded. He seemed lost in thought.

  Janie returned to the front room through the swinging door. She headed to one of the large tables and began helping Meg clear away dishes.

  Joe spoke. “I wonder if you could point me in the direction of the local constabulary? I’d like to introduce myself.”

  “Be happy to,” Lucky said. “Nate Edgerton is our Chief of Police and the station is just a few blocks away at the corner of Ash Street and Green. If he’s not there, you can always leave a message for him.”

  “I’ll do that. Can you recommend a place to stay for a couple of days?”

  Cecily looked at Lucky for confirmation. “Well, there’s always the Resort—the Snowflake Lodge. It’s open all year, but you might like the old Drake House better. That’s what we call it—it’s a bed-and-breakfast. Very comfortable. You can’t miss it. It’s a big yellow house with white shutters at the edge of town just before you reach the Mohawk Trail.”

  “Wonderful. That should do fine.” Joe Conrad stood. “That soup was excellent, by the way,” he said to Lucky. “I’ll definitely be back.”

  Lucky smiled. “We have a fabulous chef. Come back soon.”

  “Ladies.” He turned to the sisters again. “Thanks so much for your good advice.”

  Cecily twittered. “Do stop in and see us at the shop.”

  “I will do that. Thanks again.” Joe Conrad turned away and headed to the cash register to pay his bill. He spoke a few words to Jack and then left.

  “What a nice man,” Cecily remarked when the stranger had gone. She leaned across the counter and whispered. “And so attractive.”

  Marjorie pursed her lips and remained silent.

  “Yes,” Lucky said. “He seemed like a very nice man. I wonder if he’s in Snowflake for some other reason than just passing through?”

  “Oh,” Cecily gasped. “Do you think he’s hot on the trail of a criminal? Is that what he meant when he said he ‘can’t let it go’?” Her eyes grew wide. “How exciting.”