by Terry Odell
Could he get away with bringing a book? Not very professional, to be sure, but he’d noticed the dispatcher had a paperback on her desk. That certainly spoke to the level of crime in Pine Hills. County had an entire command center, not one desk in a back office.
Of course, first he had to have a book to bring. He’d gotten used to reading in the hospital and hadn’t brought his television to his new place, so a few books might fill the void. He added that to a new mental list.
Kovak sauntered over with another designer coffee offering. “Favor, if you would.”
Scott took the coffee. “If I can.”
“The big guy—Detweiler—is due back day after tomorrow, and we want to welcome him home in style. You think you can ask your neighbor to bake something? We’ll pay her, of course. Everyone’s chipping in. If it’s not an imposition.”
“I can ask. No promises.” He reached for his wallet.
“No charge to you if you’ll entice your neighbor to provide some sweets. We’ll get stuff from Sadie’s and Wagon Wheel, but for dessert, nothing in town can touch what you brought in.”
“I’ll tell her.” Somehow, he didn’t think it would take any arm-twisting to convince Ashley to contribute something, especially if she’d be paid. As Kovak walked away, Scott realized he was looking forward to asking. Enough to pull out his cell phone. Before he could make the call, the office phone rang. Back to work.
***
After washing her lunch dishes, Ashley gathered the printouts of the entry forms. Fifteen official entries. She logged into her PayPal account to verify their entry fees had been paid. That lowered the count to twelve. Rather than delete the three who hadn’t paid, she sent them polite replies and included the line from the flyer clearly stating that an entry wasn’t confirmed until payment was received.
It wasn’t really the money. She wasn’t looking to make a profit on the bakeoff, but she did hope the fees would cover her expenses. No, it was all about getting some good publicity and traffic into her shop. Once they came in, Ashley was sure they’d be back.
She turned her attention to logistics. The bakery kitchen couldn’t handle more than four contestants at a time. Starting at seven a.m., for everything to be done in time for judging, she’d have to cut off the entries at no more than twenty.
She clicked to her word processing program and checked her contest rules once more before sending it out to her entrants, along with their assigned times.
And, of course, almost immediately, she had responses. Complaints that the times couldn’t possibly work. Should she play hardball? Probably not a good idea. She had a little wiggle room since she still had eight empty slots. She juggled the requests, but tried to word her responses that it was a take-it-or-leave-it deal.
An hour later, she headed out to collect her promised donations, grovel for a few more, and take another look at the progress at the bakery. Carl hadn’t called. Had to be a good thing.
Her first stop was The Happy Cook. Chimes tinkled when Ashley opened the door. Belinda, wearing one of her trademark ruffled aprons, tucked an auburn curl behind her ear, shoved her glasses up her nose, and smiled. “All ready for you, Ashley.” She lifted a wicker basket filled with an assortment of cooking supplies, shrink-wrapped in fuchsia cellophane and topped with a bright teal-blue bow.
“This is fantastic.” Ashley turned the basket in her hands, noting cookie cutters, fancy muffin cup liners, a coffee mug, tiny jars of gourmet jams, tea towels and potholders among the prizes. “I don’t know what to say—it’s so much.” Ashley knew Belinda’s business had to be suffering from all the construction going on next door, but the young woman had never complained.
“Hey, we foodies have to stick together. I’m only a little less of a newbie here than you are, and I figure if people like what you’re serving, they might come into my place to buy some supplies and try making it themselves.”
Ashley laughed. “I hope not—I mean, I want them to shop here, but not be able to reproduce what I’m selling.”
Belinda returned Ashley’s laugh. “From what I’ve sampled, there’s not much chance of that.”
Two customers entered the store, and Ashley left Belinda to wait on them. After stowing the basket in her car, she continued on her quest.
She entered the Book Worm, inhaling what she thought was an aroma second only to chocolate. Books.
“Be right with you,” came from the back of the store.
Ashley meandered around the display on the wooden table at the front of the store. The display of books about Oregon and the sign offering a discount on the selection gave her an idea. Would Mr. Farrabee agree?
She strode to the counter, pleased to see her flyers prominently visible, and more pleased that the stack seemed smaller than yesterday.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Eagan.” Don Farrabee took his place behind the counter and smiled. His brown eyes, enlarged by his wire-rimmed spectacles, blinked, reminding her of an owl. His sparse gray hair, moustache, and bow tie gave him a professorial look. She almost expected him to smoke a pipe and have a clipped British accent.
“I’m flying solo today,” he said. “Had to help a new customer.”
And with his slow, southern drawl, all traces of that British professorial image vanished. He reached under the counter and placed a plastic bag bearing his Book Worm logo onto the glass. “Here’s the book I promised for your door prize.”
“Thanks so much.” Ashley took a breath. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I couldn’t help but notice your display at the front. I wondered if it would be possible to do one with cookbooks. Until my bakeoff. I wouldn’t expect you to discount them or anything, but—”
He smiled. “That sounds like a reasonable request, Miss Eagan. Haven’t seen a lot of action with the history books. Why don’t you go back and pick out a dozen or so, and I’ll swap them out on the table right after closing.”
“Really?” she said. “That’s wonderful. Thanks so much.”
“We specialty shop owners have to stick together. These days, indie bookstores are having trouble staying afloat, but I can mark them down ten percent until your contest.”
Her mind moved into overdrive. “What if I get some discount coupons for my shop? You could give one to everyone who buys one of the books.” Would Elaine come through on such short notice? Or could she run home and print up a bunch of simple coupons herself?
“If you’ve got ‘em, I’m happy to hand ‘em out.”
“I’ll try to have them here first thing in the morning.” Ashley left the book on the counter and half-trotted to the cookbook section. What other merchants might be willing to hand out coupons? Caught up with her new promotion idea, she didn’t see the man moving toward the register. Unable to swerve in time, she bumped into him sending his selection of books to the floor.
“I am so sorry,” she said, bending down to pick them up. “My mind was somewhere else.”
“Ashley?” a familiar voice said. “We seem to keep meeting this way.”
She straightened. “Scott? I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Barely touched me. I should have had a better grip on my books. And I’m equally guilty of not paying attention to where I was going.”
She glanced at the books before handing them over. “I would have expected mysteries. You know, cop books.”
He gave a quiet snort. “I get enough of that during the day. Besides, most of what I’ve read is almost as off base as the cop shows on television. I prefer to read nonfiction. For fiction, I like books dealing with stuff I don’t know much about. That way, I don’t get frustrated when they get it wrong.”
“Makes sense.” When Scott stood there, not moving, she backed away. “I’ve got to pick out some books for a display. For the bakeoff. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait. I meant to call you before. Would you like some coffee? I need to ask you something.”
She checked the time. “In an hour? I’m swamped at the
moment. Or, you can ask me here.”
“Sure.” He shifted his weight and readjusted the books in his arm. “There’s some sort of welcome back party for one of the detectives—”
“Randy Detweiler,” Ashley interrupted. “We’ve met. Sarah has the shop next door to mine.”
“They want to know if you’ll supply the dessert. Your cookies made quite an impression. They’ll pay you, of course.”
“Oh, there’s no need to pay me. I’m still working on recipes for my menu, so they’d actually be helping me out. Plus, I chalk it up to my advertising budget.”
He shifted his weight again. Was that a grimace? She remembered the way he’d limped when he’d left her apartment. Was he in pain? She grabbed a random handful of cookbooks. “Maybe a cup of coffee would be nice. Sadie’s isn’t far. Or we could drive. I have my car. Or I can meet you there.”
His smile triggered an unexpected flutter in her belly.
He tapped the books in his arm. “I have to pay for these first. We can walk.”
What was she doing? She didn’t have time for a leisurely cup of coffee.
Chapter 6
At Sadie’s, Scott held a chair for Ashley. She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head. He wondered what the hell he was doing, but he’d been thinking about her all afternoon. Probably nothing more than his body hitting another level of healing. Moving up from distant admiration to subtle stirrings.
Once she was seated, he gritted his teeth and lowered himself into a chair. Slowly. When it came to the physical aches and pains, he hadn’t hit a higher level of healing yet.
He couldn’t help but notice the concern in Ashley’s eyes. Damn, he’d seen that same look from her at the bookstore. That’s why she’d accepted his invitation. Out of pity. His stomach tightened.
When their eyes met, she dropped her gaze and picked up her napkin. She gave it a gentle flap and placed it in her lap. Keeping her head down, she said, “You don’t have to talk about it, but there’s no need to pretend you’re not hurting. I certainly won’t think less of you for admitting you feel pain.”
He did his best to shrug it off. “I’ve found that screaming in public usually has unwelcome consequences.”
Her eyes popped. “Good grief, if it’s painful enough to scream, why are you out and working? Shouldn’t you be—I don’t know—in a hospital or something?”
He held up his good hand and tried for a grin. “Hey, just kidding. I haven’t screamed in months.”
She eyed him skeptically, as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking.
“Seriously,” he went on. “I was in an accident a while back, that’s all. I’m fine, but it’s taking a while for things to come together.” He picked up a menu. “You want anything besides coffee?”
She shook her head. “Coffee’s plenty. I have to get over to Elaine’s studio and see if she’ll do a rush job on discount coupons. Mr. Farrabee said he’d give them out to people who bought books, and I thought some of the other merchants might, too. You know, like ‘Good for a dollar off any purchase of five dollars or more.’ You think that’s reasonable? Or should I offer a free cookie?”
He thought about it, trying to ignore the fact that Ashley’d shoved her own agenda aside to coddle him. Having coffee was a way to get him off his feet. He frowned.
“What?” she said. “You don’t like the idea? I thought it would get people into the bakery.”
“No, no. It’s good.” He focused on her question. “How much would a typical cookie cost? Would it be more sensible to do a buy one, get one free deal?”
“That’s a good point, but I’m trying to help The Book Worm, too. If I made sure the free ones came from a limited selection—not too limited, but not the really decadent ones—I think it would be a legitimate loss leader.”
After the waitress had taken their coffee orders, Ashley drummed her fingertips on the table. “I can have the coupons expire in a month. You know, a special introductory offer. Limited time only.”
He leaned forward. “Ashley, if these people have any taste buds at all, one cookie and they’ll be back for more. Often. Trust me. I saw the way they disappeared at the station.”
She beamed. “That’s right. You wanted desserts for your shindig. But I really can’t take money. I’m still experimenting.”
Damn, he liked that smile. “Departmental policy. No gifts.”
“What? You think my cookies could be construed as bribes?”
“To make sure there are no questions of impropriety, they have to draw the line. So no freebies for cops.” At least he assumed Pine Hills worked the same way as County. Of course, there was the secondary issue, which was she deserved to be paid. All that chocolate and butter and whatever else went into her cookies wasn’t free.
Or maybe you like seeing her smile.
“All right. If it’s a rule.” Her fingers drummed again. Probably keeping time with what was whirling in her brain. She gave him an impish grin. “Should I make donuts?”
He laughed. “You know where that myth came from?”
She shook her head.
“Years ago, a coffee shop offered free coffee and donuts to cops on the night shift. The police presence helped keep the neighborhood safe.”
“Free?”
“Back then, yes.”
“But no more. I get it. What do you think I should bake. Those spicy cookies? Medium heat, though.”
“I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine. Make sure you’ve got some of those flyers.”
“And discount coupons? I can give those out, can’t I?”
“I’ll run it by the chief, to be sure.”
The waitress returned, but Ashley waved off a refill. She reached for her purse. “I really have to be going if I have any chance that Elaine will run off these coupons tonight. She didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet when I asked for a rush job on the flyers. And I need to check on the Klutz Brigade, and see if any of my kitchen equipment showed up.” She pulled out her wallet.
“This is on me,” he said.
“Hmm. I’m not sure I can accept it. You might be bribing me to bake you more cookies.”
“I’ll come into your shop and buy my cookies like everyone else. This is me being a friendly neighbor.”
“All right, but next time, it’ll be on me.”
Next time. Why did that warm him more than the coffee? He shifted in his seat. Some of those stirrings were getting a little more than subtle. “It’s a deal. Can I give you a lift to your printer?” He dropped some bills on the table.
“I don’t need a lift. Elaine’s is across the street, about a block down. No point in driving.”
“May I walk with you, Miss Eagan?”
She eyed his leg. “You sure? It’s broad daylight. I don’t really need an escort.”
“Doc said walking’s good for me. Sitting all day tightens things up.”
“In that case, I’ll be happy to have your company.”
And she smiled again, which tightened another part of him.
When Ashley pushed open the door of a photography studio, Scott paused. “I thought we were going to a printer.”
“We are.” She pointed to a small sign in the window. “Elaine does simple print jobs. I don’t think she likes to make a big deal of it. I got the feeling she thinks it diminishes her standing as a photographer.”
“In this economy, you do what it takes.” He held the door for Ashley.
“Chairs, doors, buying me coffee, escorting me down the street. Did you come to Pine Hills via a time machine?”
“Can’t help it. My mama was brought up in Arkansas. She taught me and my brothers to respect women. It’s ingrained. Not sure I can stop.”
“Some women might be offended, you know. That you think they’re weak.”
“That’s their problem. Nothing wrong with being polite.”
Inside, Scott admired the photographs on the walls while Ashley spoke with whom he assumed was Elaine. The woman seemed to
be half-listening to Ashley, but her eyes kept darting his way. At first he thought she was afraid he might be harming her pictures, so he clasped his hands behind his back. When his weak arm suggested another position would be more prudent, he shoved both hands into his pockets. She smiled his way, but it wasn’t one of those “I hope you’ll buy something” looks. Damn, it was the look he hadn’t seen since his days in Traffic. The Please don’t give me a ticket and I’ll make it worth your while look. And it wasn’t cash they’d been offering.
He gave her his best cop polite-but-stern smile in return.
Before things went any further, the door opened and a woman strode in. She paused before reaching the counter, then frowned and folded her arms across her chest.
Elaine looked up. “Be right with you, Felicity.”
Ashley turned and gave the woman a friendly smile. “Hi. We’re almost done.” Returning her attention to Elaine, she tapped the piece of paper they’d been writing on. “I think the ‘Free Cookie’ should be bold and centered below the shop name. Otherwise, it’s perfect. I really appreciate the rush. I’ll be here tomorrow at ten to pick them up.”
The other woman stormed to the counter and snatched the paper. “Free cookies?” She glowered at Ashley. “What are you trying to do? Put me out of business? I can’t compete with free.”
Ashley’s fists clenched at her side, but her expression didn’t change. Still, he could see her trembling. He stepped toward the women, afraid things might escalate into more than a verbal contest.
Ashley took an audible breath. “Felicity, this is a short-term offer. And it’s one cookie for people who make purchases at the Book Worm. You run a tea shop. I sell baked goods and coffee. We’re hardly in competition here. I think the town can handle both of us.”
“We’ll see about that. This is far from over.” Felicity threw the paper on the counter and addressed Elaine. “If you’re helping this … this … newcomer, I’m sure I can find someone else who’ll be happy to have my business.” She whirled and barreled toward the door.
***
