by Polly Holmes
This town was their home. They’d moved to Ashton Point on the central coast of New South Wales, just over three years ago to help her grandma. “As if anyone would think I would intentionally poison someone. This is totally unfair.” she said, slamming the paper down on the breakfast bar. Her stomach bottoming out as her gaze spotted the bouquet on the kitchen bench.
Clair’s weary voice made Charlotte’s breath catch in her throat. “What’s unfair?” she asked, as she entered the kitchen.
Charlotte’s chest tightened like it was being forcibly crushed in a vice. Damn it, there’s no hiding this now. She scooped up the newspaper before Clair spotted the disaster that was about to tear their dreams apart.
“What’s unfair?” Clair repeated heading toward the Nespresso machine wiping the crusty sleep remnants from the inner rim of her eyes.
Charlotte’s pulse sped up. Clearing her throat, she stood and held the newspaper close to her chest, ready to face the music head on. “I’ve something to show you, but maybe you should get a coffee and sit down first.” Clair was like a five-foot-five, grumpy bed monster with a tooth ache before her morning coffee.
“For goodness sake, Charlotte, spit it out,” she said running her hand through her knotted hair. “I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night, by the time we packed up after the wedding.”
Charlotte cringed at the mention of the wedding. “You’re going to hear about it one way or another.” She sighed. “May as well be before you leave the house.”
Suspicion worked its way across Clair’s face. Leaning against the counter, she folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, enough with the cryptic clues and just tell me what you’re talking about.”
Charlotte’s heart plummeted to the base of her gut. She flipped the paper around and held her breath. Waiting for the incoming explosion.
“Cupcake killer!” Clair’s amused; bubbly giggle shot through Charlotte like a dagger. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve known Daniel for three years and everyone in town knows he’s big on sensationalising stories without getting his facts straight first. You’re not taking that serious, are you?”
“Of course, I’m taking it serious.”
“It’s just Daniel trying to big note his career. You and I know there’s no truth to it and I’m sure when the truth is revealed, Daniel will be eating his own words.” Clair busied herself working her mass of deep-red, bushy hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. “I’m sure it will blow over once they’ve worked out how they were really poisoned.”
Shock bolted through Charlotte’s body. “I can’t believe you’re being so blasé about this. We’ve worked out butts off to make CC’s Simply Cupcakes the best it can possibly be and…” She paused, fury running through her veins. She shook the newspaper in front of Clair’s unimpressed expression. “…bad publicity is the last thing we need.” Charlotte’s stomach grumbled as the fresh scent of roasted hazelnut assaulted her nostrils.
Clair made two fresh cups and handed one off to Charlotte. “Okay, I suppose this isn’t ideal, but I’d hardly think one article in the local rag is going to destroy our business. Besides, the whole town knows Daniel will bend the truth to sell one more newspaper.”
Clair skimmed over the article. A myriad of emotions flashing across Clair’s face made it impossible for Charlotte to determine her thoughts. “They say that no accusations will be acted upon until they have concrete evidence and they’ll be following up all leads. Maybe we should keep our eyes and ears open, just in case.”
Anxiety crept into Charlotte’s mind and compounded her sudden headache into a dull roar. “I agree, but…”
Clair continued, oblivious to Charlotte’s annoyance. “And we have Mrs Stevenson’s eightieth birthday high tea tomorrow afternoon, down by the river. I’m sure after that goes off without a hitch, Daniel will not only be eating his words, but also your delicious cupcakes.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t think we should wait for the fall out from this article. I know Beth was taking the leftovers home and I don’t want her to worry, so I’m going to head over to reassure them that my cupcakes were not the source of the poisoning.”
Clair fake coughed. “The morning after their wedding?”
Frustration bubbled up, sending Charlotte’s pulse racing. Again. “They’re not leaving for their honeymoon ‘til Wednesday, and if I remember rightly, Lincoln has to work today to tie up loose ends before they leave.”
She glanced one last time at the newspaper and huffed. This is the most ludicrous thing ever put in print. I’ll make you eat your words, if it’s the last thing I do.
Clair sighed. “Okay, but don’t take too long. I’ll be heading over to the shop soon to update the books and make sure we have enough supplies for Mrs Stevenson’s order. I’ll see you when you get there.”
“Okay.” Inside, she was furious at Clair’s nonchalant attitude. “Mark my words, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
****
Annoyed at the incessant interruption to his morning breakfast, Liam Bradly strutted toward the door. A continuous thunderous roar hammered his head, thanks to his addiction to good wine. He’d stupidly over-indulged at the wedding and his queasy stomach was a stark reminder of why he usually drank red instead of white wine.
He ran his hand through his hair and glanced at the wall clock. “Are you serious? It’s not even nine o’clock yet. Who the hell visits this early on a Saturday morning, especially after a late wedding reception the night before?” He’d tear strips off whatever idiot was on the other side of the door.
Liam threw the oak door wide open. “Do you have any idea what time…” He froze mid-sentence, his eyes glued to the petite woman standing before him. He’d remember her anywhere. As if he’d forget a woman of her beauty. Her wavy red locks hung just below her shoulders, framing her face. This was much better than the semi-business look she’d wore yesterday at the wedding, hair pulled back in a tight bun. Now, she was the picture of a woman that would tantalise any man, including him.
She’s beautiful.
A soft smile curved her lips, but her eyes told a different sorry. The drumming in his head shot his mind back to the present. He smiled. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Cupcake Killer in person.”
She gasped. “You read it too?”
He nodded. “I’m sure everyone in a town’s read it. Hard not to see it. It was plastered all over the front page.”
Her eyes widened and her glossy, sapphire-blue pupils deepened. Thrusting her hands on her hips she said, “That article is utter nonsense. They had no right to print that without any evidence. My cupcakes were not the reason those people got sick.”
“Really?” he asked folding his arms across his chest and giving her an uninterrupted view of his taut biceps and clenched abs.
Her jaw dropped to speak, but nothing came out. The only indication that she was still breathing was the warm, crimson blush that had worked its way from her neck to her cheeks.
“I…um… I wanted to…um…” She bit her bottom lip and paused mid-sentence as if her voice had suddenly vanished.
What the hell is with her eyes? Their constant flittering movement, combined with his throbbing head, were making him nauseous. It was as if she didn’t know where to look.
He was standing there with the door wide open for the whole neighbourhood to see in only his pyjama bottoms. A rush of triumph surged through his system. Nice to know my body can still affect a woman that way.
He gestured toward his lack of attire. “My apologies, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he said as he waved her inside. “Come in while I get something more appropriate on.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just wanted to speak to Beth, if she was around.”
Liam turned and headed back inside. “Happy to chat after I get dressed. Close the door after you come in will you?”
He hurriedly dressed and walked into the kitchen, half expecting her not to be there. But there she was, sta
nding in front of the sliding glass door framed by the morning glow of the sun. She looked naturally beautiful in a quiet, understated way.
He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Don’t tell me… you’ve decided to cook me breakfast. I’m not sure my stomach can handle one of your delicious cyanide cupcakes this morning.”
She spun and stared straight through him. It unnerved him. Colour leached from her face, leaving her white as a sheet. Stepping back, she stumbled. Liam let out a string of curses as he lunged for her before she face-planted on the kitchen tiles.
“I’m sorry. That was meant to be a joke. Obviously in poor taste,” he said, still holding her elbow and refusing to let go until he was sure she had both feet planted firmly on the ground. Liam rubbed the elbow he’d grabbed, trying to alleviate any discomfort he may have caused by his firm grip.
“Yes, poor taste, indeed,” she said huskily, easing her arm from his hold.
“It seems we were both rather busy at the wedding yesterday, and after your triumph in the bouquet toss, you disappeared. We never got the chance to formally meet.” He held his hand out, eager for the introduction. “I’m Liam Bradly.”
She looked at him in bewilderment, as if he were speaking gibberish, then stepped back and thrust her hand out in his direction, clearly determined to keep him at arms-length. “Charlotte McCorrson.”
He smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte.” His hand pulsed under her warm touch. A soft smile curved her lips, her eyes glittering under the morning sun.
She withdrew her hand from his grip. “I didn’t know you were staying here. I actually came over to see Beth. I wanted to reassure her my cakes were not the source of the poisoning and that article is utter garbage.”
“Well, as you can see, she’s not here, or Lincoln for that matter. They left for their honeymoon in the early hours of this morning, but I’m sure they wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
“Oh,” she said anxiously. “I thought they weren’t leaving ‘til Wednesday?”
“My surprise wedding gift,” Liam said. It was the least he could do for his best friend.
“Are you house sitting for them?” Her eyebrows went up in question.
House sitting? The thought would have most certainly filled him with dread. That was before he met Charlotte. Now the idea had merit. I have holidays due, and Lincoln did say to make myself at home before they left. A week relaxing in this quiet town, getting to know the locals, one in particular, was definitely preferable to heading back to Perth to his mundane job of counting numbers on people’s tax returns.
“Yes, I’ll be house sitting while they’re on their honeymoon. Maybe you can show me around town while I’m here,” he said flashing her his cheekiest smile.
She gave him a peculiar look, apprehension entering her gaze. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to get to the bottom of this poisoning before my entire business is ruined.”
“Why would someone want to ruin your business?” he pried.
Annoyance washed over her expression. “As if I would know. It’s not like we have enemies in town. I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
He was up for an adventure. “Maybe we could make a deal. You show me around town, and I’ll help you solve the mystery of the cyanide bandit, what do you say?”
Charlotte froze, panic firing her eyes. She hastily moved past him and headed for the door. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Enjoy your stay in Ashton Point.”
Her rejection felt like a punch to the stomach. By the time he got his thoughts together she was gone. “What the hell just happened?”
Cupcakes and Cyanide can be purchased from all good online bookstores.
