by Polly Holmes
Giddy bubbles were turning her stomach upside down. It had been years since a man had had this profound effect on her. Why waste it due to pathetic rumours? She smiled. “I’d love to be your date this afternoon.”
Logan beamed with acceptance and her body went into sensitive overdrive.
Her gaze was nabbed by the sudden appearance of a gorgeous, petite blonde walking towards her. Margarete’s blushing turned to anger as her eyes locked with Katie Simpson, Daniel’s assistant.
“How could you let Daniel print that nonsense about me, Katie?” Betrayal hung heavy in her gut. Katie was one of her friends, or so she’d thought. “You of all people know that I could never do such a terrible thing.”
Katie’s expression ran through a multitude of emotions within seconds. Guilt. Regret. Concern. Each clawing at Margarete’s heart.
“You have no idea how sorry I am. You are the last person I would ever intentionally hurt,” Katie said dumping her briefcase on the counter. “But when Daniel gets his mind set on something, it’s almost impossible to change it. He is the boss. Believe me, I did try.”
The distress in Katie’s eyes began to melt Margarete’s hardened demeanour. Deep down, she knew Katie was a good soul. “It’s okay. I know you would have if you could.”
Logan coughed grabbing the attention of both ladies. “How rude of me. Katie, have you met Logan Hunter?” Katie shook her head, and a suspicious glint in her gaze taunted Margarete.
“No, I haven’t, but I did see you at the party last night.” She thrust her hand out toward Logan. “Katie Simpson, assistant editor at The Ashton Point Chronicle. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise, Katie Simpson,” he said with a charming smile. “I, for one, am glad that you agree that this beautiful woman here…” He paused and his gaze locked on to Margarete’s. “…could not possibly be a murderer. Maybe you could set the record straight?”
Katie’s eyes widened and slapped her forehead. “That’s it, you’re absolutely right. Margarete, if you give me an exclusive interview of the events of last night as you know them, I’m sure we can set the record straight and shut down the town gossips for good. What do you say?”
“Um.” Margarete stood frozen to the spot, her gaze still locked with Logan. An interview to hear her side of the story. Was that such a good idea?
“Trust me, Margarete. I promise to write your side of the story. We’ll counter Daniel’s article with the truth.” The eagerness in Katie’s voice called to Margarete.
Logan chimed in. “Think about it, Margarete. A story that prints the truth could go a long way to help prove your innocence.”
Margarete bit her bottom lip as anticipation rose in her belly. “You promise you will print the truth and only what I say?”
Katie nodded.
“Okay, but…” Margarete’s words were drowned by Katie’s excited squeal. “Katie.”
“Yes, I promise. When? Now?” Katie said, her eagerness shining through her words.
“Whoa. Whoa, slow down. Apart from working here today, I’m off to the McCorrson’s get-together at the pub this afternoon. Then, maybe I’ll have some time to think about it. Why don’t you give me a call this evening and we can set a date?”
“Deal,” Katie said picking up her briefcase. “And will we see you at the pub this afternoon, Logan?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. Margarete and I will be there.”
Katie’s jaw dropped. “As in ‘together?’”
Margarete felt her chest tighten as the impact of Katie’s question hit her, but before she could answer, Logan spoke.
“Yes, as in ‘together.’ Margarete has agreed to be my date.”
Margarete stood, unable to move or breathe as she watched Katie’s retreating figure. She could see the new front-page now. Suspected murderer nabs the attention of McDreamy look-a-like. Will sparks fly or will it be a short-lived love affair?
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.
“I know I said that I’d accompany you to the get-together, but did you have to say it was a date to the assistant editor of the local paper?” she asked, her voice jumping into her throat.
“What’s wrong with that? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, the hurt in his tone caught her off guard.
“No, no of course not,” she blurted. “It’s just that I’m not one to broadcast my personal life around. This is a small town. People will talk.”
Logan brushed her comment aside. “Let them. I’ve come to realise that people will talk no matter what you say or do. As long as you maintain your integrity, then you have nothing to worry about. Besides I would be honoured to have you on my arm this afternoon. I’ll be the envy of every bachelor in town.”
Giggles bubbled in her belly. Ha, ha, there aren’t too many of those in town.
Savannah’s voice trailed across the café. “Margarete, are you done? Because I could really use your help about now.”
Guilt hit Margarete and a familiar blush embedded in her cheeks. “Yes, of course,” she said over her shoulder.
“I’ll get out of your way. Shall I pick you up around two?” Logan asked.
“Two sounds perfect.” She felt her cheeks glowing. He sent her a brilliant smile, nodded then turned and left.
Bring on two o’clock.
Chapter Six
“Seriously, is there no outfit that doesn’t make me look guilty?” Margarete said as she threw the last of her presentable tops on the chair in the corner of her bedroom. She flopped down on her bed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She had no idea what to wear, but each outfit she’d tried on felt wrong. As if she were trying too hard.
“Ahhhhhhh. That’s it,” she said through gritted teeth as she shot from the bed. “Forget the town gossips, they are going to gossip no matter what I wear. From now on, there is only one person’s opinion, I’m interested in and that’s Logan Hunter’s.”
The image in the mirror reflected fineness. Satisfaction boomed and elation worked its way into her chest. “Perfect.”
Thank goodness Savannah insisted she close the café today. It gave Margarete a chance to spend a little extra time getting ready for her date this afternoon. She paused by the full-length hall mirror and stared. “Date, oh my. I am actually going on a date with the hunkiest guy in town.” She pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “Now, you listen to me, Margarete Becker. You have a date with a gorgeous man who obviously likes you. So it’s time to let all the nonsense go and enjoy your time with him. After all, he may not be in town long.”
The thought clouded her happiness, but she shook it off just as quickly as it had arrived. She picked up her fuchsia, silk-satin shawl and headed out just as the doorbell kick-started her heart into overdrive. “Right on time. I like a man who’s punctual.”
****
Logan drove toward the centre of town, his pulse beating against the side of his temple. Margarete had almost bowled him over when she’d opened her front door. With her beautiful brown locks falling wistfully over her shoulders, she looked like a professional model straight out of a fashion magazine. Her sweet voice knocked him back to reality.
“So, what was it you said you did again? That is, when you’re not escorting your stepmother to anniversary dinners.” she asked.
“I’m a youth worker at my local youth club,” Logan said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“That’s right. It must be pretty full-on, working with moody teenagers all the time.”
“I wasn’t always a youth worker. Up until early last year I was a solicitor working for a big firm in the city.” An unexpected twinge of regret hit him hard. Regret at time wasted. “I like to give back if I can. Not all of us have been lucky in life and if I can help set even one teenager on the right path, then my time hasn’t been wasted,” he said, his tone more sombre than he expected.
Margarete bit her bottom lip before she continued. “Sounds like there’s more to it.”
“There is.” he paused a
nd sucked in a deep breath. It had been a while since he’d spoken of Dean and each time, he relieved the nightmare over again.
Her cheeks turned the cutest shade of ruby red and she quickly returned to looking out the window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m often told I stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
He cursed himself. “Don’t be silly. I happen to think you have a cute nose and you are welcome to stick it in my business any time you like.” His jaw dropped and his chest tightened as if the embarrassing weight of his words stunned him into silence.
Holy cow, did I really just say that out loud? Way to impress a woman with your intellect, dummy.
Margarete giggled and before long she was laughing hysterically, wiping tears away from her eyes. “That would have to be the first time a man has used that line on me.”
A sense of ease began to work its way through his body. “I am so sorry. That came out totally the wrong way.”
She smiled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m happy to listen any time you want to share.”
Her voice had triggered his words and they flowed before he had a chance to vent them. “Early last year, I had the world at my feet. Great job, in line for a promotion, nice girlfriend. Worked in the office next to by best mate, Shane. I was set for life…that was until I fobbed off Dean, Shane’s son. I had a big case and told him I’d call him tomorrow, but I never did. I was too busy to listen, too busy to give him a little of my day.”
“That happens in the corporate world. I bet life is hectic.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “A few days later, I walked into Shane’s office and found Dean on the couch. I thought he was asleep, but he wasn’t.” Pain ricocheted through his heart like an exploding bullet embedding its fragments deep in his soul.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
“Yeah, he decided to help himself to his dad’s pills. A whole bottle, to be exact.”
Margarete slid her warm hand over his and he felt the tension begin to slip away. “How awful for you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and your poor friend.”
“I’m not going to lie. It’s been a year from hell.” His chest filled with a sudden rush of self-fulfilment. “Things changed. No, I changed. I made the decision to put others before me. I quit my job at the firm and got a job at the local youth centre and haven’t looked back. There is something about helping out troubled teens that I never saw before. It’s exhilarating.”
“I can tell. You light up when you talk about it. It takes a special man to work with teenagers. I ought to know, I was the worst kind. Rebellious, obnoxious and stubborn as they come.”
“You… Stubborn. I never would have guessed.” Logan caught Margarete’s gaze and his breath hitched in his throat. He knew she felt the connection between them, just as he did.
“Thankfully, it was one of those awkward phases I was going through,” she said as she pulled her hand away from his. “Do you think you’ll stay in town much longer?”
An icy chill descended over the car just as he pulled into the Corner 2 Pub car park. He killed the engine and turned to face a nervous Margarete. “That depends on how long it takes the Ashton Point Police department to clear your name of Pierre Bellamy’s murder. It seems to me you need my help more than they do at the moment. Besides, it will give Elaine more time to spend with Edith McCorrson.”
Margarete’s beaming smile confirmed he’d made the right decision. He continued. “Now, should we head into this shindig?”
“Let’s do this,” she said, her smile matching his.
****
Margarete stood and clapped joyously as Mark McCorrson handed the microphone off to Charlotte. He threaded his arms around his wife and lunged her into a romantic dip smacking a great big unexpected kiss on her lips. Hoots, hollers and whistles came from all directions of the pub. The McCorrson’s were certainly loved by the town folk of Ashton Point. Even though they lived the majority of the time in New York, whenever they came home it was as if time stood still and they’d never left.
Edith McCorrson straightened herself and playfully swatted her husband in the chest and held her hand out for the microphone. She cleared her throat and began. “Well, I must say that was totally unexpected, but definitely welcomed.” She interlaced her fingers with Mark’s and pulled him close. “This man has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on him back in middle school. He was trouble then and he’s trouble now.” Happy mummers and chit chat broke out across the room. “But our best achievements are these three women right here. Our beautiful daughters. Clair, Charlotte and Cassidy. While it hasn’t always been easy sailing living with three feisty women, I wouldn’t change a single day of it.”
Margarete blinked back threatening tears of love. Her eyes were drawn downward to the handkerchief in Logan’s hand. “Thank you,” she said as she dabbed her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up.
“Mark and I can’t tell you how sorry we are that our celebration last night was interrupted by such horrible news.” Edith paused a moment and gather herself. The mention of last night’s event forged a slight crack in her otherwise composed demeanour. “It does, however, give us another chance to celebrate with you all here again. I’m sure you will join me in showing our appreciation to Charlotte, who spent most of today making the gorgeous, mouth-watering cupcake extravaganza in front of me.”
Applause and cheers erupted. Margarete’s gaze roamed the gorgeous cupcake display and, as if on cue, the outspoken grumble in her belly began working its way up her chest. Charlotte had outdone herself. Again. Margarete’s mouth watered for a taste of the moist red velvet delicacies. Each topped with Charlotte’s famous lemon-vanilla icing.
Logan leant in toward her ear and whispered, his breath skimming the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Is it me or does that cupcake display look like something out of a wedding magazine? If they taste as good as they look, I may never leave Ashton Point.”
Margarete silently prayed. Please taste amazing. Please taste amazing.
“Do they have nuts in them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, Charlotte won’t use nuts in her cupcakes unless it is specifically requested by a client. So, you’re safe.”
Margarete’s brow creased as her attention waned from the main action. Edith’s voice faded into the background. Was that Emmerson waving at her from the other side of the cupcake display? No, surely not. Her back stiffened and she made no effort to move in Emmerson’s direction. Turns out she didn’t need to.
“Margarete, I thought that was you sitting over here,” Leah said as she leaned into hug and kiss her, faire la bise. She turned to Logan. “And you must be Logan. News travels fast around his town.”
Her attention back on Margarete, she continued in a hushed tone. “Listen, have you got a moment? Emmerson and I really need to speak to you. It’s about you-know-who.”
You-know-who? Really? Can’t they even say his name anymore?
“You mean Pierre?” she asked.
“Shhh,” Leah whispered, looking around as if she’d been caught stealing. “Yes, we have some interesting information that we thought might interest you in your current situation.”
Margarete bolted from her seat. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” She turned to Logan, her eyes pleading for his understanding. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Logan stood. “Mind if I join you?”
Margarete’s jaw dropped. The last thing she wanted to do was involved Logan in this debacle any further. “I’m sure I can handle it. Why don’t you stay here and enjoy the party?”
Even before she’d finished speaking, his head was shaking. “You’re my date, Margarete, so I guess that means where you go, I go. I’m sure the ladies won’t mind. And you never know, I could just be that extra pair of eyes and ears you need.”
They were such gorgeous eyes, too. She reprimanded herself. This is no time to be drooling over his hy
pnotising, chestnut-brown eyes. She nodded and headed in the direction of Emmerson Logan following close behind.
“Emmerson, you have information that could clear my name?” Margarete asked a little too eager, her voice louder than she expected.
“Shhh,” Emmerson said, waving her hands for quiet. “Not here. Follow me.”
Margarete and Logan followed Emerson, with Leah bringing up the rear. They weaved in and out the tables of happy guests, who were all oblivious to the trail of people passing. It was like they were following a maze to get to buried treasure. Where on earth is she going?
Emmerson finally stopped in the corridor by Charlie’s office, completely out of earshot of prying guests. “Right. That’s better. I’m not one to gasbag but Leah and I felt you should know.”
Margarete’s impatience kicked into first gear. “Know what?”
Leah butted in. “First of all, we want you to know that neither of us think that you murdered Pierre Bellamy. But not everyone knows you like we do.”
Margarete’s gaze shot from one woman to the other. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear you believe in my innocence.”
“But,” Leah paused, uncertainty flaring in the depths of her eyes.
Logan said. “Ladies, if you have information that can help clear Margarete, let’s hear it.”
In a split-second Emmerson’s eyes turned and lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m not one to gossip, but this morning, Stephanie, at The Classic Curl, managed to squeeze me in to get my hair done for the party this afternoon. I was getting my shampoo done and I overheard a very interesting conversation.”
Margarete balked a moment at the “not one to gossip” comment, knowing Emmerson and Leah would win a gold medal in the Olympics for gossiping. “What did you hear?”
“I couldn’t see from the wash basin, so I had to strain to hear. I couldn’t really place the voice, but it was a woman and she commented on how the police have ramped up their investigation on you, thanks to their new evidence.”
Margarete felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “What new evidence?”
