A Stoneybrook Mystery Collection

by Eryn Scott

  A weight settled on Hadley’s shoulders as she followed Luke and Paul. She may have solved one mystery, but the other was still very much unsolved.

  25

  It took a day for Hadley’s phone to stop ringing constantly, two for people to stop referring to it as a miracle, and by Thursday she still couldn’t make it ten feet down Main Street without having to stop and recount her recent brush with death to someone she was sure had already heard the story twelve times.

  Which was why, by Friday, she decided to stay home and take a much-needed day off to rest and celebrate making it to another birthday. Never in her life had she been so appreciative of turning another year older.

  Gran had talked about that British baking show so much, and Hadley decided it would be the perfect escape. After sleeping in a little extra, she moved to the couch with a blanket, a cup of tea, and a box of Milanos—because thirty-one-year-olds could have dessert for breakfast if they darn well pleased. Within ten minutes, both cats were curled up on her legs, purring away, and she’d officially become hooked on the show.

  By the end of the second episode, she’d already gotten a phone call from her parents, as well as Grandpa Steve. She loved her family’s tradition of calling people up on their birthday and singing to them. While her parents had made a lovely harmony, no one could beat out Grandpa Steve, a member of a handful of barbershop quartets in his heyday.

  When she was nearing the end of the first season, Hadley’s phone beeped with a new message. She smiled as a picture came through from Cassie. It was of Bailey; his grumpy little cat face filled the screen and she’d put some filter on the picture, making it look like he was wearing a birthday hat. The text followed right after.

  Bay says Happy Birthday, Hadley!

  Before she could respond, another picture came through. It was a selfie of Cassie, Miranda, and Kelsey.

  And so do we!!!

  Hadley sent her thanks, unable to help the huge grin from taking over her face at the sight of the three girls together. In the days since Miranda had been rescued, the three of them had been almost inseparable. Because Miranda’s mom was still recovering, she’d been spending her days in her hospital room and her nights at Cassie’s house. Kelsey had been staying over as well, and she and Cassie had buried whatever issues had previously stood between them, recognizing life was too precious and short to waste with unnecessary drama—at least, that’s what they’d told Hadley.

  While she was sure Miranda would never be quite the same after her scare, the teen seemed to be doing well, with the help of therapy sessions both by herself and with her mother. It didn’t hurt that she’d gained another parent out of the equation. And while she and Dennis had already built quite a steady relationship over the years, they were taking the whole dad-and-daughter thing one step at a time.

  The credits for the end of the season-one finale of the baking show scrolled by hours later, as Hadley shaped her scones and stuck them onto a baking sheet. She hadn’t been able to stand watching the bakers create such beautiful creations without craving the chance to get her hands in some flour.

  She’d just set the timer and was about to start the next season, when there was a knock at her door. Gran stood on the other side.

  “Happy Birthday, love.” She enveloped Hadley in the kind of warm, all-encompassing hug only a grandmother can give.

  Stepping back, Gran held out a small, glittery bag with pink tissue sticking out the top.

  “Thank you, Gran. You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Gran winked and ushered Hadley inside to open the gift.

  Careful not to rip the delicate tissue, Hadley pulled out a soft item wrapped in another sheet of the pink paper. She unfolded it to reveal a gray knit hat with a delicate blue-and-pink, variegated Fair Isle pattern. It looked so soft, something Hadley confirmed immediately by wrapping her fingers around the fuzzy gift.

  “I love it.” She beamed. Sliding out her ponytail holder, Hadley let her hair down, combing her fingers through it for a moment to make it lay flat before she pulled on the beanie and sighed. She leaned forward to give Gran a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a yarn wizard. Believe me. I’ve tried patterns like this and they are not easy.”

  “A lifetime of practice,” Gran said with a wink. She glanced around the kitchen, signs of baking evident. Then she turned to see the television, paused at the start of the next season. “You watched it?” Her blue eyes lit up and she clapped.

  Hadley laughed. “Gran, I’ve moved well beyond watching and have hit the slippery slope toward obsession. Want to stay for an episode? You can help me taste test my scones when they’re done.”

  Gran’s smile faded. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got to help your parents get ready for your birthday dinner tonight, and I’ve confiscated one of their cars. They’ll be needing that back soon.” She gently patted her hair, which Hadley noticed was particularly well coifed, twisted up into a smart chignon.

  “Your hair is lovely,” Hadley said, dipping her head to each side to take in the full effect.

  “Do you like it? Nell just did it for me over at the salon.” Gran twirled slowly.

  “Nell’s a genius with—” But Hadley couldn’t seem to finish her sentence. As Gran made it to the one hundred eighty degree part of her full circle, Hadley caught sight of a colorful, painted chopstick sticking out of Gran’s bun.

  The kind Suze made and used daily to contain her curly locks. The exact kind Suze was always adamant she wouldn’t sell to others because she wanted them to be her signature piece. Every artist has to have a signature style, Suze always said when asked why she refused to market them at her booth. It was also the same accessory of Suze’s that Hadley had found in Paul’s truck months earlier, the stick that had broken the camel’s back, so to speak—if the camel’s back was Hadley’s trust.

  “Is that one of Suze’s chopsticks?” Hadley fought to keep her question level. “Did she give it to you?”

  Gran finished her turn and patted her hair until she located the stick. “Oh, no. I was just holding it for her, to remind myself to get it back to her. She left it at the salon.”

  Hadley’s eyes narrowed. While most of the town shared Hadley’s glowing opinion of Nell’s skills with dye and scissors, Suze refused to get her hair cut in the salon. She’d tried it once when they were younger and had left the place in tears, saying people just didn’t understand curly hair. As a result, Suze cut her own curls, and made Hadley clean up the back portion she couldn’t reach—making her show her where she intended to cut, three times, before she would let her do so.

  But if Suze wasn’t getting her hair cut, then she was there getting it styled. What could Suze possibly need a fancy hairdo for on a Friday? Hadley wondered.

  Gran pulled her away from her thoughts by giving her a goodbye pat on the hand. “I’ll see you in a few hours, dear. Happiest of birthdays.” Gran kissed her fingertips and then gently placed them on Hadley’s cheek, heading out the door without waiting for a response.

  If the timer for her scones hadn’t gone off a few minutes later, Hadley wasn’t sure how long she might’ve stood there, question after question spinning through her mind. As it was, the scones were golden and absolutely delicious with butter and jam spread across their warm, flaky insides. A few bites of one of them stole Hadley’s attention away, and she began washing up the supplies she’d used in her bake.

  She had her hands fully immersed in a soapy mixing bowl when another knock sounded at her front door.

  “Come in,” she called, washing the suds off and wiping her hands on the nearest towel.

  Heavy boots sounded against the hardwood of the foyer.

  “Hey.” She turned around, hands clean and dry.

  Luke’s mouth was pulled into a boyish grin. “A little cold in here?”

  Hadley realized she was still wearing Gran’s present. Instead of slipping it off, however, she tugged it tighter. “It’s from Gran, and it
’s beautiful and I don’t care if maybe I’m getting a little overheated.”

  Luke laughed. “Fair enough.” He held a box forward. “Happy Birthday, Had.”

  The silvery paper was exquisite, and the wrapping job was the picture of precision, all sharp folds and tight corners. A purple bow adorned the top and the sound of clinking glass came from the box as he presented it to her.

  “From you?” she asked, surprised by the weight as she took it from him.

  “Yeah. I was going to bring you a bottle of gin too, but the distillery is closed for an event tonight, so I’ll have to give you a rain check on that. Oh, and Jolee’s present is out in your driveway.” He leaned closer, whispering, “It’s your bike—fixed—but Jo’s not as good at wrapping as I am.”

  Smiling, Hadley set the box on the now-cleared countertop and began to unwrap it. Underneath the paper was a plain cardboard box, its blank sides only adding to the ambiguity. Luke nodded in encouragement as she lifted the cardboard lid.

  Inside sat a dozen quart-sized glass jars. They all had bright copper lids that shone up at Hadley like brand new pennies. Pulling one out of its cardboard slot, Hadley sucked in a breath as she noticed they had her berry logo and Pretty Jam Good etched into the sides.

  A tiny ball of warmth spread out from Hadley’s chest.

  “I thought you could use them to sell special reserve blends of your jams, kind of like Christine does with some of her spirits.” Luke ran a hand through his hair.

  “I absolutely love them, Luke. Thank you.” She put the jar down, pulling him into a tight squeeze—and definitely not mentioning their etched portions might make them unfit for canning but would make beautiful water glasses.

  Luke’s arms wrapped around Hadley and she closed her eyes, sinking into him. He smelled of fresh air, and earth, and … well, Luke. He pulled back, meeting her gaze with his. Those blue eyes, that floppy, unruly hair.

  Just as she was moving to study his lips, her phone beeped with a message. Hadley’s jaw clenched tight. If it was Cassie with another picture of Bailey, she was going to—

  Grabbing her phone from the counter, Hadley was relieved to see it wasn’t. It was from Suze. But all relief left her as she read the text.

  Hey. I’m so sorry and I’m the WORST, but I’m not feeling well. Mind if I take a rain check for your bday dinner?

  Hadley’s stomach plummeted.

  Of course not. Feel better, she typed, sending the message before any of her whiny thoughts had a chance to seep into her response.

  “What’s up?” Luke asked, probably noticing the way her complexion had paled.

  “Suze can’t make it for dinner.” Hadley’s shoulders sagged.

  She couldn’t fault her friend for getting sick, after all. Germs didn’t know it was Hadley’s birthday. Suddenly hot, Hadley pulled off Gran’s hat and tossed it onto the back of the couch. She could feel the static messing with her hair and she flattened it back down with her hands, smoothing and—

  Wait. Hair.

  Suze couldn’t be sick. She’d just been at Nell’s salon getting her hair done for some fancy occasion. Hadley’s stomach sank. She knew Suze had been lying to her over the past few months, but this was low, too low.

  “What now?” Luke asked, looking as if he was having a hard time keeping up with Hadley’s mood changes.

  “She’s lying. She’s not sick.” Hadley shook her head, lining up all of the lies in her mind as if they were kids who’d been caught spray painting the playground.

  She went through the evidence with Luke, extending a finger at each new clue.

  First, there had been Suze’s hair chopstick in Paul’s truck.

  Then, the constant lies—Hadley knew the word constant was a tad hyperbolic, but went with her anger—about where they were, had been, and what they were doing.

  There had been that odd meeting between Suze and Christine last week and now the distillery was closed for an event.

  Next, the German chocolate cake. Paul’s favorite flavor ordered from Mickie by Suzanne.

  The wedding dress from The Tulle box had almost clinched it.

  “And now she’s gone and had her hair done.” Hadley spaced out the last two words for effect.

  Luke blinked. “Oh no …?” He cringed, obviously unsure why it was bad.

  “Luke. Cake, dress, hair? There’s only one—”

  She was interrupted again by a beep from her phone. A strangled, wry laugh escaped her lips as she glanced down at the screen.

  Hate to do this, but still swamped with paperwork from the case. Rain check for dinner?

  Hadley laughed again, but in a manic way that made her feel certifiably crazy. She showed Luke the screen.

  “And now Paul’s out too.”

  Luke took in the information, and Hadley waited for him to come to the same conclusion.

  “Which means?” Luke shook his head slowly.

  “Luke! They’re having a secret wedding.” Hadley let her hands rise and fall, unsure how he was missing all of the signs.

  “A what?”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. “A secret wedding. At Christine’s distillery. My two best friends are getting married, and they somehow feel like they can’t tell me.”

  Luke’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He looked utterly lost.

  But that was okay. Hadley wasn’t. She was finally seeing things clearly. She paced.

  “Had, I don’t—”

  She stopped short, snapping her fingers and cutting Luke off. “That’s it. I’m going there. I’m going to show them they should’ve told me, that I’m super supportive, and they were wrong to keep it from me.”

  Hadley searched the room for her purse, pausing only to slip on her Birkenstock clogs.

  “Uh, Had.” Luke’s voice was quiet, but she could hear the suppressed smirk hiding behind his tone.

  “What?” Her eyes snapped up to meet his, expecting him to tell her she was being crazy.

  He pressed his lips together for a moment, then ran his hand along his stubbly jawline. “If we’re going to crash a secret wedding, don’t you think you might want to wear something other than stained sweatpants, a flour-covered T-shirt, and your Birks?”

  Hadley glanced down. Her favorite gray sweatpants were marred with holes and some inexplicable stains. As was her Stoneybrook Fun Run 2015 T-shirt. She chewed on her lip for a moment.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed her keys from the hook near the door. “Nope. This whole thing has me feeling crazy, and if I’m going in crazy, I’m going to commit.” She stomped out the door, Luke following behind.

  26

  Luke drove, which was definitely a good idea because Hadley couldn’t sit still to save her life. She fussed and fidgeted and huffed the entire ten-minute drive out to the distillery. Now they’d found Miranda, she had spent the time to paint her nails a lovely champagne color yesterday. By the time Luke pulled into the circular gravel driveway of Stoneybrook Spirits, a good half of the champagne polish was history.

  Paul’s truck and Suze’s powder-blue Mini sat parked next to the barn that held all of Christine’s stills and boilers.

  “Ha!” Hadley pointed, vindication washing over her.

  But as her gaze moved down the line of cars, her heart sank. Her parents’ car sat among vehicles representing most of the residents in town.

  Eyes flashing with renewed anger, Hadley looked to Luke. “Do you believe me now?" She pointed to the familiar black Subaru. "My parents are even in on it.”

  Luke swallowed, looking worried for the first time as he glanced at the line of cars. “Had, are you sure you want to …” He drifted off, unable to finish his sentence.

  And Hadley didn’t need him to. She nodded. “I’m very sure.”

  She was also sure that there was a lump of sadness and betrayal sitting right in her throat, and if she wasn’t taking action it might envelop her.

  So she needed to take action.

  Unbuckling, she emerged fro
m the truck like a knight dismounting a steed. She was here to get some answers.

  Her sandals crunched in the gravel, sounding loud enough to trigger an avalanche paired with her stomping. Luke’s large boots tread much more softly behind her, but his pace quickened as she reached the big barn doors to the tasting room.

  Hadley felt like some sort of boxer, about to go into the ring. She paused, cracking her neck and taking a deep—albeit shaky—breath before grasping the wrought-iron handles, one in each hand. She stopped, eyeing the large doors and quickly calculating how much wider they were than her arm span; there was no way she would be able to hold on to them at the same time.

  Luke seemed to read her mind and he stepped up next to her, taking hold of one side so she could focus on the other. He eyed her for a second, as if to ask, You sure about this?

  She nodded, and they pulled the doors wide open.

  Her heart was in her throat, unready for what she would find. What would she say? What could she do? How would it feel if she was ri—

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

  If Hadley thought her footsteps could trigger an avalanche, the din that poured out of those barn doors could’ve left Mount Everest snowless. She blinked, staring in stunned silence as the whole of Stoneybrook gathered inside Christine’s beautiful tasting room.

  A banner—obviously painted by Suze’s talented hand—hung across the exposed beams. There were two beautiful cakes sitting along a long table to the left. One was obviously German chocolate, Paul’s favorite. But right next to it was a beautiful cake with a shiny, white frosting that looked suspiciously like Swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with fresh strawberries. Without cutting into it, she was quite sure the inside would be a soft, lemon sponge cake with fresh strawberries—her favorite.

  There was so much to take in. Hadley didn’t even realize Suze was standing right in front of her. Her curly hair was done up in a beautiful updo, tendrils falling around her face, and she was wearing the most gorgeous purple dress.

  Wait. The smile slid from Suze’s face and her narrowed eyes settled on Luke.