Ignoring Bernard entirely, Missy addressed Brenda. “They surely do. You just let me know if you change your mind on that ice, or if he needs an aspirin or something.”
“May I be excused?” Benson asked quietly, staring straight ahead, his plate of food untouched.
“Not until you eat your breakfast,” his father answered. “Mrs. Beckett, I believe that I told you, when we first checked in, that our children are not allowed to eat sweets and snacks and other unhealthy things. I’d appreciate if you’d stop serving those items,” he blinked at her with barely concealed disapproval.
“Of course, Mr. Thornton. My apologies,” Missy said without expression, her eyes boring into those of her surly guest.
“I can make your innkeeper a list of what we typically eat for breakfast, if that would be helpful,” Brenda offered, her eyes begging forgiveness for her husband’s behavior.
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” Missy nodded and left the room.
Spencer was standing just outside the dining room door and had heard everything.
“I’m keeping an eye on things,” he said, when his boss left the dining room, steam coming out of her ears.
“That man is insufferable,” Missy hissed between her teeth. “You don’t think that he hurt poor little Brant, do you?” she whispered.
“I think it’s a distinct possibility,” the Marine replied grimly.
“Please let me know if you see anything…inappropriate…happening,” his boss implored.
“I’m on it,” he assured her.
Chapter 5
“This store is fabulous,” Echo breathed, as she and Missy wandered around the Calico Cat.
Her cart was full of supplies that she could use in her candle-making – wax chips, scented oils, cute little glass jars, sea shells, beads and other fun items. Missy had found novelty cupcake papers, heart-shaped cupcake molds that would come in handy for the upcoming Valentine’s Day holiday, and a rainbow of colored sprinkles, sugars and edible ornaments.
“I know, and everything is on sale,” Missy enthused, heading down a craft aisle geared toward children and young adults. She tossed packages of modeling clay, crayons, markers and designer coloring books into her basket.
“What’s all of that stuff for?” Echo was puzzled.
“I’m thinking that the Thornton kids might like some things to do, other than read or study. They hardly ever go to the beach, and when they go to the pool, they aren’t allowed to splash or make noise, it’s depressing,” she sighed.
“Hopefully their dad will allow them to have a little bit of unstructured fun. He sounds like quite a piece of work,” Echo frowned.
“Yeah, it makes me sad. My dad was amazing,” Missy replied, feeling nostalgic. “I always felt loved and supported by both parents. I can’t even imagine being treated so coldly.”
“I never knew my dad, and my mom was often poverty-stricken and a bit of a flake, but I always knew that she loved me,” Echo mused.
“It’s funny how some people can look like they have it all, and in reality, they’re totally miserable.”
“Makes us grateful for the happy lives that we have.”
“Yes it does, and I’m going to make sure that I do everything I can to see to it that these kids have a nice vacation, despite their overbearing father,” Missy vowed.
“Be careful. He doesn’t sound like a man who will take “interference” lightly,” Echo warned.
“Spencer is keeping an eye on things, but I think he’s harmless, other than being verbally nasty to his wife and kids.”
“Sometimes words can wound,” Echo muttered, her heart going out to the Thornton’s.
“Then maybe the next time he’s nasty to me, he’ll give as good as he gets,” Missy raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you think about this building?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I love it,” Echo replied simply, taking in the tin ceiling, mosaic tiled floor, and heavy, dark woodwork. “I think it would make a perfect candle shop.”
“I’d have to agree with you on that one, honey,” Bernetta said chuckling, from behind Echo, surprising her and Missy. “You thinking about buying my shop?”
Echo grinned and nodded. “Guilty,” she raised her hand, laughing.
“Well, I think a candle shop would be a great choice for this building. I’ve spent many happy days here – I’d love to see it go to someone who would appreciate its character as much as I do. It’s been like a second home to me,” she added, running a hand over an ornately carved pillar.
“Let me get you one of my cards,” Bernetta said, heading to the front of the store with Echo and Missy trailing behind her. “You give me a call and we’ll get together for lunch. We can talk about the store and the possibilities.”
“I’d like that,” Echo replied, tucking the plump, 60-something woman’s card into her purse. She and Missy paid for their purchases, and headed back to the Inn, chattering excitedly about candles and the shop and the future.
**
When Missy returned to the Inn, she was met in the foyer by the retired couple who would be staying at the Inn for the weekend.
“Hi there,” the woman with bright pink lipstick and hair teased within an inch of its life greeted her, with a heavy, east coast accent. “I’m Vera Klein and this is my husband Morty,” she grabbed the arm of a balding man in plaid golf shorts and thrust him toward Missy.
“Hello, doll,” Morty grinned, his voice raspy, but warm.
“Hi,” Missy chuckled. She couldn’t help herself, the couple’s enthusiasm was contagious, and a welcome respite from the pall that seemed to have descended upon the gracious B&B with the arrival of the Thorntons, earlier in the week.
“Did Maggie get you checked in?”
“Oh yes, sweetheart, she’s been taking good care of us. And that hunk you’ve got driving the shuttle…don’t even get me started,” Vera remarked, wide-eyed and fanning herself comically.
“Spencer is a very impressive young man,” Missy nodded with a smile.
Bernard Thornton came into the foyer just then, looking as though he was a man on a mission, a deep frown creasing his brow, giving him a more thunderous expression than usual.
“Ah, there you are. My wife provided a list to your innkeeper of foods that were acceptable for breakfast, and apparently the woman decided to supplement the list with foods that are not allowed for our children. I’ve spoken to you about this more than once, and I expect it to be taken care of,” he dictated imperiously. “Is that too difficult? Is it just too much to ask?” the incensed man snarled rudely.
Missy’s temper simmered, and just as she opened her mouth to share some brutal honesty with her guest, Morty Klein decided to put his two cents in.
“Hey there, buddy. Why don’t you just relax and take it down a notch. This little lady doesn’t need that kind of rudeness from you,” he stepped closer, tapping Bernard on the chest with his stubby forefinger.
Bernard swiped Morty’s hand away with more than a measure of contempt.
“Stay out of it, old man. No one asked you,” he dismissed the retiree and turned his venomous gaze back to Missy.
“Don’t you touch him,” Vera ordered shrilly, stepping directly into Bernard’s personal space. “You snooty folks think you can just treat people like trash and get away with it. Well, you got another think coming, mister,” her gravelly voice raised an octave.
“Who are these people?” he sneered at Missy, ignoring both Vera and Morty. “Is this the typical sort of guest that you have? Perhaps I shouldn’t have allowed Brenda to book us into a “cute little B&B.”
“Buddy, you need to back off,” Morty jumped into the fray again. “You’re a guest in this nice lady’s house and you’re being rude. It’s gotta stop, buster,” he insisted, hitching his shorts up at the waist.
“Get out of my face before you regret it, old man,” Bernard threatened, and that’s precisely when Missy blew her top.
“Mr. Thornton,” her voice rose over the bickering, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. “I will not, I repeat, WILL NOT, have you threatening my other guests, or belittling them. If you have an issue with the service here, I will be happy to address it with you in a civil manner, but I refuse to allow you to treat me with such rude belligerence. If you can’t behave like a civilized human being, you can keep your comments to yourself and talk to me when you’ve calmed down, or you can pack your things and leave, it’s up to you,” she challenged, hands on hips, eyes flashing.
“How dare you? I paid an exorbitant amount to stay in this place, it is your job to make my stay a pleasant one,” Bernard leaned closer to the irate owner.
Spencer came in the front door. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, noting Thornton’s aggressive posture and uncomfortable proximity to his boss.
Bernard stepped back, jaw flexing. “No. No problem,” he growled through clenched teeth. Turning on his heel, he wheeled from the room and stomped quickly up the stairs.
“What a sourpuss,” Vera curled her lip and waved a hand, shaking her head.
“That man don’t know how to treat the ladies with respect,” Morty agreed, hitching his shorts up and smoothing down the sparse hair that was left on the sides of his head.
“Do I need to have a talk with him?” Spencer asked, eyes narrowed.
“No, darlin, he’s all bark and no bite,” Missy sighed, squeezing the young man’s arm.
“Speaking of barking, I read on your website that you have dogs – can I see them?” Vera asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Missy smiled, trying to get her heart rate back down to normal levels. “If you’d like to wait in the parlor, I’ll bring them down to see you.”
Chapter 6
Vera Klein hugged Missy’s golden retriever, Toffee, close, as tears ran down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Bitsy, Toffee’s furry malti-poo friend, was cheerfully ensconced on Morty’s lap.
“I’m sorry, I know I’m just a big baby, but I still miss my sweet Brandy like it was yesterday,” the older woman said apologetically, her tears wetting the silky fur between Toffee’s ears. Her golden retriever had died six months earlier, and seeing the gentle dog had been her undoing.
“I completely understand,” Missy swiped at her own eyes. “Anytime you need a little dog therapy, you just let me know. These girls love the attention.”
“Oh wow, a dog!” Missy heard from the doorway behind her, and turned to see Beau and Brant, standing, wide-eyed, gazing at the dogs.
“Come on in and pet them,” Vera called out, hastily wiping her tears. “They’re very nice.”
Beau charged over to where Vera was sitting on the floor with Toffee, and ran his hand over the dog’s back in wonder, while Brant slowly, cautiously, made his way over to where Morty sat with Bitsy on his lap.
“Don’t worry, she won’t hurt ya,” Morty encouraged. “Come feel how soft she is.”
Brant approached the tiny dog, sticking out his hand tentatively, and giggled with delight when she licked it. He knelt at Morty’s feet and buried his hands in Bitsy’s fur while she cleaned his face with her tongue. Both boys were utterly charmed by and fascinated with the dogs, soaking in the affection and attention that “the girls” so willingly gave. Benson wandered in a few minutes later and made his way over to where Brant was playing with Bitsy’s ears.
“Hey there,” he said softly, accepting doggie kisses on his hand with a smile.
“Do you have a dog at home?” Missy asked, admiring how gentle and respectful the boys were.
“No ma’am,” Benson replied, never taking his eyes off of Bitsy.
“Benson!” Bernard Thornton exclaimed from the doorway. All three boys snatched their hands away from the dogs like they were on fire. “You know better than this,” he said, his voice laced with contempt.
“Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner,” Bernard ordered, and with a disgusted glance at Missy and the Kleins, he left the room.
Morty and Vera exchanged a glance, then looked at the boys sadly as they rose to go.
“Thank you for letting us pet your dogs, Mrs. Beckett,” Beau mumbled on his way out.
“Anytime, sugar,” Missy said in a soothing voice, her heart breaking.
“That guy needs to have his uptight butt kicked,” Morty groused when the boys were out of earshot.
“And how,” Vera nodded with a grimace, hugging Toffee tightly.
Missy took the dogs back to the owner’s wing of the Inn after Morty and Vera said they needed to freshen up before going out to dinner, and was on her way to the pool area to talk to Spencer, when she noticed that all of the art supplies that she had bought for the kids’ entertainment were sitting on the sunroom table, untouched. Stopping at the table, she flipped through the pages of one of the color books, finding that no pages had been colored. She then picked up the giant box of crayons, and found that the perforated cardboard seal on the box hadn’t been broken.
“They’ve been very busy,” came the hesitant voice of Brenda Thornton from the doorway of the sunroom. She continued when Missy gave her a confused look.
“They’ve been busy with other activities and haven’t had a chance to make things with clay or color,” the tired mother shrugged, attempting a smile.
“I see,” Missy said softly, her eyes sad.
“Thank you for buying them, though. That was very thoughtful,” she said, before turning to leave.
“You’re welcome,” Missy murmured, troubled.
Chapter 7
Missy was surprised to hear the sound of chatter and laughter at the breakfast table the next morning. Peeking into the dining room, she saw Vera and Morty entertaining Brenda, Beau and Brant with tales of their now-deceased golden retriever’s antics.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen those kids laugh,” Missy whispered when she went into the kitchen, where Maggie and Spencer were preparing dishes to serve.
“Go figure. The father isn’t anywhere around,” Spencer replied sourly.
“Where is he?” for some reason, Missy’s stomach flip-flopped at the news.
“He took the older two fishing,” Maggie piped up. “I had to fix a very healthy picnic for their trip.”
“Fishing?” Missy was incredulous.
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem much like a fishing kind of guy,” Spencer remarked grimly.
Missy sighed. “Maybe he’s trying to make up for being such a…” she couldn’t quite find the right word.
“Would you like me to fill in the blank?” Maggie arched an eyebrow, making Missy and Spencer smile.
“Well, no. Let’s just hope that he’s had a radical change of heart where his children are concerned.”
**
“Daddy, where are we going?” Brittany asked, tossing her long honey-colored hair into a wavy ponytail.
“You’ll see when we get there,” Bernard flashed a brief smile, in a better mood than he’d been in for quite some time.
Brittany smiled back tentatively, happily surprised by her father’s pleasant disposition. He could be fun sometimes, as long as rules were followed and attitudes were correct. Her brother, Bennie, had stayed up too late last night, watching videos on his phone, and she saw in the rearview mirror that his eyes looked heavy. She hoped fervently that he didn’t ruin their father’s good mood by falling asleep in the back seat – that was against the rules.
“Benson?” he called pleasantly enough, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Yes sir?” the sleepy youth replied.
“You’re not thinking of going to sleep back there, are you?” Bernard’s tone sounded mildly reproving, but still cheerful.
“No sir.”
“Good. If I have to be awake to drive the car, you have to be awake as well. Do you know why that is, Benson?”
“Because you’re not a chauffeur, sir,” was the automatic reply.
“That’s right.” Another brief smile. “I’d hate
to start our trip out on the wrong foot, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
Brittany listened to the exchange, glad that her brother’s answers had been correct and respectful. Perhaps they’d have a good day after all. Her vacation hadn’t been everything that she’d dreamed it would be, but at least she got away from the constant drilling by her pageant coach, dance instructor and voice teacher for a few days. Her parents had very high hopes for her, and it took hard work to stay in their good graces. She felt like such a disappointment most of the time, that, in the rare instance when she earned their praise, she glowed like the sun.
The teenagers were more than puzzled when their father pulled into the Calgon Marina.
“What are we doing here?” Bennie asked when Bernard turned the engine off.
“Get out and see,” his father said enigmatically.
He strode past the sidewalk and down one of the docks toward a young man with no shoes and no shirt, who was reclining against a post with his fishing pole. Bennie and Brittany, not knowing what else to do, followed him.
“Andrew?” he asked, approaching the young man.
“That’s me, dude. What’s up?”
“Bernard Thornton. I’ve rented a boat for the morning.”
“Right. Hey, Mr. T. How’s it goin?”
“I’m fine, thank you. These are my children, Benson and Brittany,” he glanced over his shoulder.
“Ben and Brit,” the youth nodded, gazing at the latter with grand appreciation. “How you doin?”
Benson just stared and nodded at Andrew, who looked to be about his sister’s age, maybe a bit older. Brittany giggled and said that she was fine.
“Yes, you are fine,” Andrew’s eyes lingered on the young beauty.
“Which boat is ours?” Bernard asked, his lips tightening in disapproval.
“Last one on the right, my man. Climb aboard and I’ll hook you up with some paperwork, dude,” he gestured to a blue and white motorboat with enough space up front to lay out and get a great tan.
Bernard climbed in first, followed by Benson, and Andrew was all-too-eager to help Brittany ease into the boat, one hand on her waist, the other holding her delicate hand.
Hot Chocolate Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 28 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 2
