Filling the waffle iron with more batter, Sonja shook her head. “I convinced Belinda to just let him stay on. I hated to see him pushed off from the one position he’s had for so many years.”
Ally twisted her mouth skeptically. “I guess. The whole thing is a little weird.”
“The point is, the manor and my cottage are both huge. It’s the perfect place to have Thanksgiving dinner with you, Alex, your family, and my family,” she pressed the issue, really hoping all of the people she loved most in the world could all be in one place for the special holiday.
“Did you say Frank’s parents were going to be there, too?”
“That’s right. This year they decided to come here to Haunted Falls. They should be arriving sometime today. They’ll be staying at Frank’s house.”
Alison shook her head and grumbled something as she plated the fried eggs.
“What’s the problem, Ally?” she asked her friend, her eyebrows raising in concern.
“Nothing. It just seems like an overcrowded Thanksgiving, to me.”
If there was one person in the world who was pickier than she was, it was Ally. Both women liked to have things just so. “Come on, please?” Sonja begged. “I promise you, it’ll be a great time. You’ll end up loving the cottage, and it’ll be so fun having everyone together.”
“I just don’t know.”
“We’ll even play board games like you guys always do. You know you can’t resist going head-to-head with me in Trivia Masters.” Sonja cocked one eyebrow and gave her friend a competitive smirk.
A smile slowly crept up at the corners of Alison’s mouth. Letting out a defeated sigh, mixed with a low laugh, she gave in. “Okay. I’ll try to convince Alex again to come over to your place tomorrow.”
“Fantastic.” Sonja clapped her hands eagerly.
“Two fried eggs and bacon,” one of the waitresses called, putting up an order slip.
Ally placed the plate in the window and rang the bell. “Order’s up.”
“Wow, that was fast,” the waitress gasped.
Sonja and Alison looked at one another and laughed.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
Sonja, needing a quick break from the heat and chaos of the diner’s kitchen, decided to make a round of coffee refills. She often enjoyed this little ritual, being able to talk to the different customers and regulars and see how their lives were going. It was always an interesting glimpse into someone else’s experience.
Approaching Tabatha’s table, Sonja smiled widely, noticing that the pumpkin waffle was nearly all gone at this point. “Enjoying your breakfast?” she asked, standing nearby.
The beautiful blonde-haired woman smiled, showing off her perfect teeth. “Morning, Sonja. Yes, the waffle was just perfect,” she answered in a thick, but very proper sounding British accent.
Sonja felt silly for thinking it, but she loved hearing Tabatha talk. It was almost soothing.
“I’m sure my family would be ashamed if they heard me say that,” she laughed quietly.
“Oh? Why is that? Because you enjoyed the waffle?”
Giving a little shrug and a half smile, Tabatha looked up at the diner owner. “They don’t approve of my obsession with pumpkin spice flavored everything.”
Sonja let out a loud laugh. “They don’t like pumpkin?”
“Not one bit. I’m sure me giving into the holiday hype wouldn’t thrill them.”
“Would they really care if you liked it?”
“Knowing them, probably so.” She cut into the last bit of waffle and took a bite.
“I guess I’m not really surprised. It does tend to get more and more out of hand every year. I mean, there is even pumpkin scented toilet paper now. It’s a little ridiculous.”
“Toilet paper? Ew,” she laughed.
“Yep.”
“Well, my mom and dad like to be invested in every aspect of my life.”
“I guess they just care, huh?”
“More like they’re control freaks, but whatever,” she waved a dismissive hand at the subject.
“Well, they let you come out here, didn’t they?”
“No, actually. I didn’t tell them I was leaving the country. I’ve only been here six months, and they didn’t realize I was gone until about three months ago. They weren’t happy when they found out.”
Sonja couldn’t help but find this a little odd, considering that Tabatha was easily in her twenties. What sort of parents would expect any sort of say or control in their child’s life after they reached adulthood? It would be one thing to share your opinion on your child’s life with them, it would be another to try and control them.
Sonja’s own mother was nosy, and her father a pain sometimes, but they always allowed her to make her own choices—even if they disagreed.
“Well, I bet you’re missing them this time of the year, huh?” Sonja offered, trying to find some positivity in the situation.
“No, not really,” Tabatha said flatly, her smile fading slightly.
“But it’s the holidays, after all.”
“It’s just Thanksgiving. That’s a completely American holiday,” she pointed out.
Sonja nodded, feeling silly. “I know that, but Christmas is coming, too.”
Tabatha’s smile was completely gone at this point and she stared down into her nearly empty cup of coffee. “Yes, that’s true.”
Sonja realized it was time to backpedal. She only hoped she hadn’t offended one of her regulars. She decided the best course of action was to change the subject.
“Would you like a refill?”
“Yes, please,” Tabatha replied, her smile returning, burying any semblance of disappointment or hurt behind it.
Sonja returned the smile and filled the mug with the steaming hot liquid.
“On a chilly day like today, nothing is better than food and coffee here at your diner, Sonja,” Tabatha admitted.
“Well, thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Sonja turned to head to the next table when she found, much to her surprise, Tabatha touching her softly on the arm. “Tabatha?”
“You’re right, you know? They’re a big pain most of the time. They’re controlling, they’re insensitive, they’re invasive, but I do miss them.”
Sonja felt a small sadness well up in her chest. “Well, of course you miss them. They’re still your family after all.”
“I don’t really have anyone out here. I mean, I had a boyfriend for about a month or two, but that was over and done with when I realized he was only interested in one thing.”
Sonja felt her face grow a little hot. “I see.” She was always glad that Frank was of the more . . . traditional mindset.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” Tabatha waved both hands nervously in front of herself.
Sonja let out a laugh. “Is that so?”
“No, I live in a dingy apartment, and I don’t sell many paintings, but I do have one thing worth some value.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I was an apprentice under a master painter in London. During my time with him, he did an original work and gave it to me.”
“And that’s worth something?”
She nodded. “You see, his works often sell for upwards of five to ten thousand dollars.”
Sonja gasped loudly. “And your ex wanted the painting?”
“Well, he’s a little hard up for cash, and he hoped I could sell it to help him out. Of course, I said no,” she shrugged. “We broke up on the spot.”
“It’s probably for the better.”
“Yes. I agree. However, I left the apprenticeship prematurely to come here and paint the mountains. It’s part of the reason my parents are so angry. They were paying for those lessons. My father told me he’d be flying out here as soon as he got a break at work, but I don’t have any specifics of when that will be.”
“Maybe he’ll be here for the holidays?” Sonja offered a positive spin on the situation.
Sonja didn’t have a response to that comment. Then, an idea popped into her head. “Hey, I know it’s not a holiday you usually celebrate, but if you’d like to you can come over to the Smith Estate tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner with me and my family.”
Tabatha’s eyes widened at the invitation. “Oh, I couldn’t intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding at all. This holiday is all about thanks and gratitude. I’d be grateful to have you there with us on this special day.”
Tabatha’s smile widened, stretching nearly from ear to ear. “How can I say no to that?”
“You can’t.”
“Very well. I accept.”
“Great, be there around two. We usually play games and such before we eat.”
“Got it.”
“See you then,” Sonja smiled, nodding one last goodbye before walking off toward the next table to finish her coffee round.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
The late afternoon rains turned into snow when night fell over the small mountain town, covering the sheen of wet fallen autumn leaves in a thin layer of white powder. It was the first snowfall of the season, and the chill of winter was quickly setting in.
Sonja took it slow on the long winding road up to the Smith Estate where she lived, her memory on a time when another woman had accidentally driven off the side of this road and ended up at the bottom of the steep incline.
Since this would be her first autumn and winter living at the manor and cottage on top of the town’s highest peak, she wasn’t looking forward to having to make the drive down and back in the snow every day.
With how wet the afternoon had been, and then adding a layer of icy slush on top of it, the road became slick and dangerous. She only hoped this would clear up before all her company visited the next afternoon for a delicious Thanksgiving dinner.
Letting out a sigh of relief as she pulled in through the gates of the estate, she drove around the manor and parked at the cottage home where she lived.
A light in the downstairs window was on and she could only guess that the butler was in there cleaning up. She’d told him on multiple occasions that he didn’t need to help clean or cook at all in the cottage. He stayed in the manor and oversaw keeping things up and informing Sonja when something needed repairs or replacement.
Yet, as a man of habit and duty, she often came across him in her cottage cleaning things up or even cooking a meal for her so it would be ready by the time she got home. (She’d gotten into the habit of packing her own underwear and bras away so that the butler wouldn’t have to come through and pick them up or wash them. That just made her feel weird.)
Sonja’s friend Belinda Smith, who was technically the estate’s owner, had gone off to have adventures around the world. In her place, she asked Sonja to move in and make the estate her own, to keep things up and watch over it.
The butler, Gram, was one of the final remnants of the way things used to be, and he had a hard time letting some of his old duties go.
Climbing out of her van, Sonja hurried through the chilly wind and snow into the home. While she wasn’t super happy about the butler having cleaned everything up again, she was thrilled to find a roaring fire in the hearth. It made coming home through the slush and the snow almost worth it.
“Welcome home, madam,” Gram greeted her in his usual gravelly British accent.
It made Sonja instantly think of Tabatha again and that she’d invited her to Thanksgiving dinner the following day. Gram had insisted on helping, in specific cooking the grand turkey itself, as well as decorating and setting the table. It was all Sonja could do to convince him he didn’t need to prepare the entire meal. (It seemed Thanksgiving had been a big deal when the Smith’s still occupied the home and that the butler had always overseen things.)
However, Sonja understood Frank’s parents, her own parents, and likely Ally’s family had their own special dishes they all wanted to cook up for the day. It would be a real shame to deprive them all those traditions simply because the butler had insisted on cooking everything.
“Evening, Gram.”
“I completed the decorations for tomorrow’s festivities, and I also have dinner prepared and waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Sighing, Sonja slumped into her favorite spot in the cottage, in a comfy chair tucked away in an alcove of the living room. “Gram, I told you, you didn’t need to do all that.”
“It is how Ms. Belinda preferred things when she was here,” he retorted with his usual answer. “And it is a favorite dish of yours, cream bacon and potato soup. I used one of the white wines from our very own cellar as part of the base.”
She had to admit, it did sound amazing, especially after driving through all that wet rain. “That’s fine,” Sonja replied, not wanting to have the same discussion again. It looked more and more like she would be better off just not questioning things and instead start enjoying them.
Heading into the kitchen, she inhaled the rich scents of garlic, butter, and cream all mingling together. A beautiful serving dish with the warm soup sat near the end of the table along with a laid-out bowl and spoon. Pieces of tear-away bread sat in a basket as well.
“Looks great, Gram,” she praised him, taking a seat at the oak table and eagerly spooning out the food.
“Thank you. Please, enjoy.” Giving a slight bow, he turned to leave and head back to the manor where he spent most of his time.
“Hold on, just a second,” she called after him.
“Yes, Ms. Sonja?” he replied, pausing in the doorway to listen.
“Just so you know, I think that Alison and her family will be here tomorrow. So, please set enough places for all of them.”
“Very well. How many is that?”
“Five more seats, including Cynthia.”
“So, ten all together?”
“Actually, I did invite one more person tomorrow. Set an extra seat as well.”
“I see, do you mind me asking who it is that will be attending?” he pressed.
“Her name is Tabatha Rondo. She’s been a regular at my diner the last few months.”
“Did you say Tabatha Rondo?” he asked, his voice growing graver.
“Yes. You two might have some things to talk about. She’s from London originally, and she is all alone out here in Colorado. So, I thought it would be nice to invite her.”
“I highly doubt we’d have anything to talk about,” he grunted, his wrinkled brow furrowing deeper.
Sonja raised a suspicious eyebrow. Why did she get the feeling that there was some sort of history there? “Do you know Tabatha?”
“Not personally, no. I’ve never met the woman.”
“Then, why does it feel like there is a problem?” she asserted herself, wondering just what may be going on.
He straightened his shirt and stood up, wiping any semblance of emotion from his face. “If my personal feelings have gotten the better of me, I apologize. I meant no harm.”
“No, no, Gram. I just want to know what is going on.” Sonja turned in her chair, so her full body was facing the butler.
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Sonja, I’d rather not. It would be ill-fitting for me to say anything.”
“Well, I’m asking you to say.” She waved a hand at him. “Come on. Out with it.” If there was some sort of prejudice here, she wanted to be aware of it before the holiday the next day.
Gram let out a small and almost notable sigh, but gave into Sonja’s wishes. “I’m only vaguely acquainted with the Rondo family.”
“Oh? Only vaguely. Why do I get a feeling that isn’t completely true?”
“It is true,” he demanded, another hint of frustration passing behind his eyes.
“Gram?” Sonja asked like a mother scolding a child.
“Madam?”
&nbs
p; “Do you know Tabatha’s family?”
Gram hesitated, then sighed his compliance. “Yes, back when I was a young boy, my father worked as the family’s butler. However, that was for Tabatha Rondo’s grandparents. I know hardly anything about the family now.”
“But you recognized Tabatha’s name, didn’t you,” Sonja pointed out.
“I will admit, I’ve kept vague tabs on them over the years, but nothing more,” he revealed.
Sonja found this behavior a little odd. Why keep tabs on a family you hardly knew, especially when they lived in London and he lived and worked in America for most of your life? “I get the feeling there is more to this story.”
“While there is some history between my father and the Rondo family, it has little influence on current events. If you please, Ms. Sonja, I’ll return to the manor now.”
Shaking her head, Sonja agreed. “Okay, Gram. If you say so. Just make sure there is a plate for her tomorrow.”
“As you wish,” he replied with a reluctant bow and headed out the door.
“That was a little odd,” Sonja whispered to herself as she picked up her spoon and began to eat the warm meal prepared for her.
CHAPTER 4
* * *
Sonja sat straight up in bed with a gasp. Her skin felt hot, like it was on fire, but the feeling quickly abated. Sweat poured down her face. Her skin cooled in the late-night air. Instantly, she felt chilly.
It had been the same dream again, the one with the maid who was murdered. At least she hadn’t screamed this time, she thought. No need to worry Gram again. She figured he must have already been awake the previous night, otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have heard her.
She knew there would be no going back to sleep tonight, not with the horrible images and feeling left over from the nightmare still so fresh in her mind.
There was nothing to do but get up.
Shaking her head, she slipped out from under the covers, hoping the fire downstairs still had some heat left in it. Sitting next to the hearth and working on her book sounded like a pleasant way to relax.
Thanksgiving Waffle Murder Page 2
