by J. J. Cook
“Lucky you. I always managed to avoid those situations. It’s one thing to cook something for the recipe contest. It’s another to hang around with all those crazy festival people. From what you’ve told me, I think the same people from forty years ago are still putting the festival together today.”
Stella smiled. “That’s something I wish you could experience for yourself. Maybe I’ll invite the planning committee to have a meeting here.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to be a welcoming host.” Eric had an evil grin on his handsome face. “I have been known to play a prank or two in my time.”
“You mean like that sudden breeze when John was here? You and I are going to have a talk about interfering in my personal life.”
“I’m available twenty-four/seven for your convenience.”
“You’re watching too much TV,” she remarked with a laugh. “I’m changing clothes now. Don’t come in the bedroom unless you want me to start playing some pranks on you.”
Eric wasn’t good with boundaries. He’d been a little better respecting her privacy since she’d decided to stay there permanently. She left him watching Jeopardy and closed the bedroom door behind her.
Was John serious when he said he loved her? Stella went over his words in her mind as she changed her jeans and fire brigade T-shirt for a calf-length brown skirt, knee-high boots, and a brown top.
She studied herself in the tiny bathroom mirror as she pulled her red hair back from her face. She’d gained about a hundred freckles since she’d come to Sweet Pepper. It was warmer here than in Chicago, and she’d spent a lot more time outside, hiking and rafting in the river over the summer.
She still had fewer freckles than her father. She grinned when she thought about his last Skype. He and her mother were still experimenting with that newer form of communication. It was a work in progress, but it had been nice to see their faces.
Stella pulled on one of two black blazers she’d had made with the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade emblem on the pocket. It was a nice way to dress up a little, without wearing the stiff dress uniform she’d be putting on tomorrow for Eric’s memorial. She didn’t like the idea of wearing jeans and a fire brigade T-shirt to official meetings.
Eric made a whistling sound—not quite like a living human would make but equivalent—when she came out of the bedroom.
Hero had come inside the cabin while she’d been dressing. His ears perked up, and he made a growling sound when he heard Eric’s whistle. He wagged his tail when he saw everything was all right, and went back to sleep on the rug by the hearth.
“I like the jacket. Nice touch. I wouldn’t have thought of that. My T-shirt and jeans were good enough for everything.”
Stella twirled around, her loose skirt swishing around her long legs. “That’s because you’re a man. Those clothes were probably all you had in the closet anyway.”
“I never put clothes in the closet,” he scoffed. “That’s what the dresser was for. I kept my hunting and fishing stuff in the closet with my skis and snowshoes. Sometimes I put dirty turnout jackets in there too.”
“Like I said.” She grabbed her bag. “Don’t wait up. I hear these planning meetings can take all night.”
“Don’t take the Harley out,” he warned. “There could be ice later.”
She frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“You can’t pay attention to the stuff they say on TV. You have to listen to the birds and watch the animals. It’s November. There will be ice later.”
Stella didn’t argue with him. For all she knew, he was right. Maybe ghosts could tell things about the weather.
She got in the Cherokee and headed down the mountain. There was no ice yet.
Chapter 6
The pepper festival planning board was made up of the same people who ran the festival. They’d probably been planning the festival since Eric’s day. Most of them were at least in their fifties. They started planning for the next year’s festival when the present festival was barely over.
Bill and Lucinda Waxman were there, of course. Perry Dumont, who owned the local cable TV station, was there, along with his wife, Lacie. Myra Strickland was smiling and presiding over the group. The pepper festival had been started by Myra and her late husband, who’d been the mayor of Sweet Pepper at the time.
The party room in the back of the Sweet Pepper Café on Main Street was brimming when Stella got there. Jill Wando, as the official mistress of ceremonies for the pepper festival this year, greeted Stella as she came in. Her husband, Erskine, was absent because he was the present mayor and was busy getting ready for the council meeting.
“You gave us quite a scare finding poor Barney in his house,” Jill told Stella. “I think we’re all a little more grateful right now to have the fire brigade with you as chief.”
“Thanks.” Stella gave up trying to fight the news until it was official. “I’m sorry Mr. Falk couldn’t be saved.”
Jill’s blue eyes widened dramatically. “Well with that bomb exploding and all, what could anyone expect? Come have some punch, Stella. We’re glad to have you here tonight.”
Stella went willingly to the punch bowl, not even bothering to say that she didn’t know if it was a bomb or not yet. There was a variety of Sweet Pepper Café favorites on the buffet, including sweet potato fries, stuffed jalapeños, and sausage biscuits.
Ricky Hutchins Jr. was there, smiling and making sure everyone had a clean plate. His mother and father owned the café, which was a town landmark. He was almost too busy flirting with Foster Waxman to notice Stella. When he did, his blue eyes fixed on her.
“Hey, Chief! It’s good to see you. I heard about the fire out at the lake today. Wish I could’ve been there. Did they get that road fixed yet? Man, I miss being with the fire brigade.”
“We miss you too, Ricky,” Stella said, and meant it. “We’ve been spending a fortune on repairs to the pumper’s engine.”
“Yeah, I hate being stuck here cooking too. You know, I told those mechanics at the shop that they had to treat the engine right. You can’t act like she’s brand-new. I’m sorry I can’t help. With Dad gone, Mom needs me a lot more.”
Stella understood that his family needed him more since his father, Ricky Hutchins Sr., had gone to prison. They all hoped his sentence would be reduced on an appeal.
Ricky had been a good firefighter. She hoped this time away from the job wouldn’t make him give up on it entirely. She was glad he was still interested.
“I know. Hero misses you too. He doesn’t like the way JC drives the engine.”
“JC?” Ricky shook his head, the blond curl that was always on his forehead moving back and forth. “He’s no driver at all compared to me. I’m surprised you even got to the fire today. Don’t worry, Chief. I’m coming back. Dad’s gonna get his time reduced. Wait and see.”
Stella said she hoped that was true, and put some food on a plate before she sat at a table.
“Chief Griffin!” Banyin Watts, the town librarian, was holding a plate of food too. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Banyin tried to hug Stella. It was difficult getting close enough over her very pregnant belly. She’d been another good firefighter. She was on leave, awaiting the birth of her child. Banyin was tall and strong. She was calm too, able to assess situations and know what to do. Stella missed her.
“How long is it now?” Stella asked as they sat together at the table.
“Only a few weeks. I don’t mind admitting that I’m a little nervous. Being a mother is even scarier than being a firefighter.”
“Which you don’t have to worry about anymore.” Banyin’s husband, Jake, sat beside them. Jake was a large man who always dressed like a lumberjack in plaid flannel shirts and suspenders. He was actually a lineman for the power company. “My wife is retiring from the fire brigade.”
“Ignore him,” Banyin said with a tight smile. “He’s always grumpy.”
Stella didn’t know about
the grumpy part, but she knew Jake hadn’t wanted Banyin to be a volunteer firefighter in the first place. He’d fought her every step of the way.
“I’m serious about this, Banyin,” Jake said. “You’re going to be a mother. Women who are mothers don’t go into burning buildings. Your days with the fire brigade are up. You can keep your job as a librarian. That’s an appropriate job for a woman and a mother.”
Stella ate her food and let the couple hash it out. These losses of volunteers were going to have to be addressed. She didn’t want to replace Banyin or Ricky, but she’d have to find some new faces and warm bodies if the fire brigade was going to continue its work.
“Well, anyway, the baby isn’t here yet.” Banyin smiled at Stella. “I don’t have to make that decision just now.”
The rest of the festival planning meeting went as Stella had thought it would. Myra made some speeches about this year being the biggest, best festival ever with some quick reports on how much money they’d made and how many people had attended. These were only preliminary and would be discussed at length later.
Elvita Quick and her sister, Theodora Mangrum, told everyone their plans for next year’s pepper contest. There would be more categories, and they expected everyone involved with the festival planning board to enter a recipe too.
“We need a lot of recipes because we get so many duplicates that must be disqualified,” Elvita explained. “Think new! Think outside the box.”
“Or in this case, the pepper,” Theodora quipped.
Everyone laughed. The sisters, attired as always in green dresses that almost matched each other, enjoyed the joke. Their bright green hats contained small bird’s nests with different colored eggs inside them.
“It takes one heck of a woman to wear a hat with a bird’s nest in it,” Flo whispered as she took a seat opposite Stella. She owned the bed-and-breakfast in town and had been a friend to Stella since she’d arrived in Sweet Pepper.
Stella agreed. “I wonder if they’ll hatch next spring and become birds.”
Flo giggled, her blueberry-colored eyes mirroring her mischievous nature. She wore her poufy blond hair with a red bow in it. The bow matched her bright red dress.
“Heard about Barney, bless his soul,” Flo said. “That’s no way for a great man like him to die.”
“I didn’t know him well,” Stella said tactfully. “I guess it’s no way for any man to die.”
“I heard you needed water at the back of the house during the fire.” Flo took a folded picture from her pocket. “I was thinking you should ask the town council for money to buy a fireboat. I’m sure all those rich people up there by the lake would support you.”
Stella looked at the picture. Of course she’d seen fireboats. She’d spent a tour on one when she was in Chicago. She hadn’t thought about it for Sweet Pepper. The community by the lake was small. She didn’t think the town would approve the money it would take to buy a boat and get it accessorized.
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“Sure thing, honey.” Flo bent close to Stella’s ear. “And how’s that handsome hunk of ghost treating you up at the cabin? He seems to have calmed down.”
Flo was one of the few people Stella felt comfortable with talking about Eric. “He’s difficult like always,” Stella told her. “Will you be at the memorial tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. We should’ve done it long ago.”
The brief planning meeting was winding down. Julia Grace, from the Sweet Pepper Presbyterian Church, was warming up the old piano in the corner. It was time for Stella to leave. She’d been assigned her position on the planning board—finding new people to enter recipes into the festival contest.
Stella knew Eric was going to laugh when she told him. The position meant she was going to have to go around asking everyone, at least twice, if they’d submit a pepper recipe. It was going to get old very quickly. Why they felt she’d be the perfect person for this task was beyond her.
Smiling and nodding at the people she knew, Stella left the café and headed toward town hall. A cold breeze had begun to blow down from the mountains. Maybe Eric was right about a change in the weather.
She didn’t have far to walk. Police chief Don Rogers was going into town hall at the same time. He held the door open for her.
“Ms. Griffin.” He inclined his head as she walked in the building. Opening doors was about the only courtesy he’d ever shown her. He never called her Chief Griffin, which would have been proper in their professional situation.
Chief Rogers was a difficult man—at least he had been for her. He’d thrown as many obstacles as insults her way. The fifty-something man with graying blond hair cut in a military style had started out as a fire brigade volunteer, he just hadn’t continued.
“Chief Rogers,” Stella acknowledged him. She tried not to make matters worse by antagonizing him. It wasn’t always easy.
“Looks like ice coming down from the mountains.” He searched the dark sky. “I hope you have supplies in so you’re not trapped in that old cabin with no food. There are stories about people up here starving to death after a winter blizzard where they couldn’t get out for weeks. If you like, I’ll put you on our check-in list to make sure you’re okay.”
Stella faltered in the anteroom before she entered the main part of the town hall. Had she heard right? Was he offering to help her in some way?
She had to be coming down with something. There was no way Chief Rogers had just volunteered to do something nice for her.
“Thanks.”
“While I have your ear,” Chief Rogers said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m sending Officers Richardson and Schneider your way to become volunteer firefighters. I have a few part-time officers that are interested too. It seems to me that the fire brigade is getting a mite small after losing a few people. I hope that helps.”
Chief Rogers smiled at her in a way that actually reached his pale blue eyes—the ones usually glaring at her.
Something was up. Stella didn’t know what it was, but Chief Rogers had never shown her this kind of respect. Maybe it was a practical joke. She kept waiting for the punch line.
When one didn’t come she politely thanked him for his help and wandered, dazed, into the meeting room where the town council members were on the dais. She was going to have to ask John what was wrong with his boss.
She’d expected some hostility from Chief Rogers because state investigators would be in town to examine Barney Falk’s death. She knew he was going to have to put himself out, as she would, to accommodate them.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe he was afraid she’d say something nasty about him to the investigators. He didn’t have to worry. She’d been a team player for a long time. She wouldn’t say anything to the state that could hurt him. He was annoying, but he did a good job for Sweet Pepper.
She picked up a packet of information created for officials by the town clerk. The documents and agenda gave her a heads-up about what was going on during the meeting.
Stella was expected to be at the meeting every month so she could give the fire report, which included expenses and calls the fire brigade had gone on. Chief Rogers did the same for the police department.
“Stella.” Ben Carson, Stella’s grandfather, sat beside her in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He was tall and bone thin. His shoulders were stooped, and his gray hair was rapidly thinning.
The one feature that didn’t show any signs of age was his eyes. The brown eyes he shared with Stella’s mother, Barbara, were as sharp and clear as ever.
“Ben. How are you? It’s unusual to see you at a town meeting.” She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call him Gramps yet, like she did her grandfather in Chicago. She didn’t feel she knew him well enough. Maybe someday.
“True enough. I hate these things. Nothing gets accomplished here. The mayor and the council strut around for the public, but all the deals are done in the back room.”
> It was a cynical point of view. Stella was sure he had plenty of reason for it. As Walt, John, and Eric liked to remind her, Ben ran everything in town from the back room.
“I heard you had some trouble with Bob Floyd wanting to tear down your little cabin.” He used his chin to point at the council member, who was on the dais examining his packet of information.
“Some.” She wasn’t surprised. Ben knew everything that went on in Sweet Pepper.
“Want me to take care of it for you?” he whispered.
Being from Chicago, Stella was well educated in under-the-table deals. She didn’t want to get involved in whatever Ben had in mind. She barely knew him as her grandfather. She didn’t want to tarnish that relationship.
“No, thanks. I’m going to see a lawyer about it—if the town council won’t reconsider and sell me the property.”
Ben took her hand in his icy grip. “If a man can’t use his position and fortune to help his only granddaughter, a heroine in the community, what good is having position and fortune?”
It was the same conversation they normally had. The subject varied—she should move into his mansion with him, she should work for one of his companies, she should let him set up her life in a manner that he found befitting the status of his granddaughter.
“I don’t know the answer to that.” Stella smiled and nodded at council member Danielle Peterson across the room. “But I can handle this. I’ll appeal to the council first, and find the right lawyer if I need to.”
“Okay.” He patted her hand. “That sounds like a plan. Since you don’t have a lawyer already, at least use mine. Is that too much collusion for you?”
Ben and Stella had a tenuous relationship. Neither of them wanted to antagonize the other. Stella had made it clear that she wouldn’t accept expensive gifts from him.
On the other hand, she didn’t have a lawyer. What could it hurt to use his? She’d pay for it, not him. “That sounds fine. Thank you. How should I contact him? Do you need me to fax or email information to him?”
Ben smiled tenderly at her. “Not at all. I think he can find everything he needs.”
