I stared at her.
“Don’t give me the stink eye! It’s surprisingly moving. Just you wait and see.” She pulled a tissue from the sleeve of her cardigan and dabbed at the tip of her nose, which was already pinkening.
The photographer from the Grand Lake Sentinel came in with her ridiculously huge camera.
“That’s all of us, then,” Allen said. He dropped his head and took several deep breaths. After just long enough to make me wonder if he’d suddenly gone to sleep standing up, he raised his head and cleared his throat. It was a good move. Everyone was silent and completely focused on him.
“One of the greatest rights granted to us as American citizens is the right to vote. People risk their lives for this privilege and not just in foreign countries. Women died petitioning for the right to vote in this country a mere century ago. More recently than that, a voting rights act had to be passed so people of color could have fair access to their polling places. And now you five stand before me and say you are ready to go out into our community and ask people to devote their precious ballots, paid for with sweat and tears and blood by our forefathers and foremothers, to you.” Allen paused and looked at each one of the candidates in turn. “Some people might laugh. They might say that this is a tiny election for a meaningless seat in a Podunk town, that the stakes are so low as to be laughable, that none of this matters. All I can say is that I’m glad that no people like that are in this room. I know why you’re here. Oh, you might each have different ideas on what’s important for our city. You might disagree on the issues. In fact, I hope you do. Nothing will serve our city better than open and clear-minded debate. No. Whether you think you’re here because of zoning issues or recycling plans or school issues, you’re here because you’ve been called to serve.”
Despite myself and my usual ability to mock nearly everything, my heart beat a little faster. Sally was right. Allen’s speech was surprisingly moving. Next to me, Sally sniffled. I looked over. Trina’s lower lip was wobbling.
“You have been called to serve your city. That calling is no less important than those who feel called to serve as doctors or lawyers or priests. Whichever one of you winds up privileged enough to serve our amazing city of Grand Lake will have a sacred duty to your friends, your neighbors, your family. Are you ready for this?”
No one moved. No one breathed.
“Are you ready for this?” Allen boomed.
Sheri stepped forward. “I am! I’m ready!”
“I am, too!” Geraldine stood next to her.
Taylor, Chris and Justin all echoed them. “I am!” they cried one after the other.
Damn if I didn’t have something in my eye.
• • •
I waited around until the crowd finished with their photo op and disbanded. They barreled out like football players out of the locker room after an exceptionally good half-time speech. Well, except for Sheri, who stopped to collect the recycling.
I blew my nose and said, “That was really moving, Allen.”
“Surprised I had it in me, are you?” He knelt down to pet Sprocket and looked up at me with his ridiculously bright blue eyes.
He was right. He’d surprised me. I’d never been a fan of our mayor. He was too old-school with his Dockers and deck shoes. He was too corporate with his ties, both the one around his neck and the ones to the businesses in town to whom he pandered. And yes, I realize I now was one of those business interests, what with him being my landlord and all, but all the same he was too, well, too Allen.
Then he’d started dating my friend Annie. Well, I’m not sure you can call what they were originally doing dating. It was all a little more torrid than that. It had taken me too long to figure out who had put the roses in Annie’s cheeks and why she’d suddenly started wearing lipstick. Once I outed them with a flower pot to the back of Allen’s head, though, I’d gotten to know him a little better and had to face the fact that I’d been too quick to judge him on the basis of appearances.
I hated that. Appearances were so much easier to judge by. It just happened that most of the time judgments made that way were wrong.
“Maybe a little surprised,” I admitted. “In a nice way.”
Sally elbowed me. “I told you so.”
Allen stood up. “So what were you doing here? Something about computerizing records? I didn’t think database entry would be part of your skill set.”
I made a face. Spill one mocha latte on one computer keyboard and suddenly you have a reputation as a Luddite. Whatever. “Actually, Trina was talking about computerization. I was talking about this.” I slid the diary toward him.
“What is it?” He turned it over in his hands.
“A diary Carson and I found during the kitchen repairs. It was hidden in a wall!” I couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of my voice.
“And?” He arched one brow at me.
“And I want to know whose diary it is. I think she knew my grandmother. She talks about everyone using initials and nicknames, but I’m pretty sure it was her.” Oh, that rising tide of excitement when she mentioned my grandmother and popcorn in the same sentence. I was looking forward to curling up with it and a glass of hot cocoa to see if there were any other mentions of my family members.
There had been a time that I couldn’t wait to get away from Grand Lake. I’d wanted to cut my family ties and cauterize the ends of them so they’d never heal.
Luckily, my family was more forgiving than that. Or at least my sister, Haley, was. She was pretty much all I had left. Well, I also had Evan and Emily now that Haley was reproducing. And Dan, her husband and my old BFF from the bad old days. And Garrett. Well, I guess he wasn’t actually family, but still . . .
Anyway, Haley had always been happy to be here in Grand Lake. She hadn’t felt tied down by connections. She’d felt supported. Now that I’d moved back, I understood what she’d been feeling all those years. I wanted more. I hadn’t thought too much about how to get it, but then this diary that talked about my grandmother literally fell into my hands from the ruins of my crispy critter of a kitchen.
Allen riffled the diary’s pages. I squashed the urge to grab it out of his hands. I’d liked the way Sheri had handled it better. She’d been nearly reverential. “And you think it’s from when?” Allen asked.
“Sometime in the fifties.”
He shook his head. “Before my time, I’m afraid.”
“If the records were computerized, we’d be able to give Rebecca that information with the touch of a few buttons,” Trina said, shooting me a little conspiratorial look as if daring me to mention how uninterested she’d been a few minutes before. I guess she wasn’t above making nice if it got her something she wanted. It made me respect her a little bit more.
Allen tilted his head back and laughed. “And you think I’m going to authorize thousands of dollars worth of work so Rebecca can figure out who her grandmother’s friends were back in the day? Oh, Trina, you know me better than that.” He leaned on one elbow against the counter and winked at her.
Trina blushed. It made her unformed baby face look almost attractive. “No. I see that.”
“Good.” He patted her hand. She looked at her hand like she might not wash it ever again. It was a good thing that our illustrious mayor only wanted to hold sway over Grand Lake. If he was intent on world domination I didn’t think the slightly unattractive young women of the world would stand a chance.
“Who did you buy the house my shop is in from?” I asked Allen.
Allen looked upward as if consulting the fluorescent lights for guidance. “I bought that property from Marta Hansen in 2002.”
That didn’t go back so far. “Who did she buy it from?”
Allen shook his head. “No idea.”
I’d have to ask her, then. “Any clue on where to find Marta?”
“Loving Arms Retiremen
t Community on Willow Street,” Trina said.
I knew right where that was. I didn’t have the best associations with it. I wrinkled my nose but said, “Thanks.”
“Good luck,” Allen said.
“What does that mean?”
Trina leaned on her elbows. “It means that there’s a very real possibility that she’ll think you’re her niece and another very real possibility that she’ll think you’re part of a government plot to assassinate her.”
Great.
“Hey, how are things going with your kitchen repairs?” Allen asked.
“Taking way longer than I expected.” And costing more, too.
He chuckled. “It always does.” Then he paused. “Can you still sell anything? Anything at all?”
“I’ve done a few special orders out of my apartment kitchen, but it’s not set up for anything big.” There were certain people in Grand Lake who’d gotten accustomed to having my popcorn treats on movie nights and family game nights.
“But you can do special orders?” he pressed.
I nodded. Not sure where this was going.
“I like to send a little present to the city council candidates welcoming them to the political process. Could you do some gift baskets with that Bacon Pecan Popcorn you were starting to sell?”
I blinked. “Absolutely.”
“Great.” He took out his wallet and pulled out a stack of twenties. I couldn’t believe anyone walked around with that much cash. I was lucky to find a crumpled-up five in my wallet and some quarters in my jeans most days. “Would this be enough?”
I didn’t even bother to count it. I was hemorrhaging money into the repairs at POPS and had somewhere between nothing and zero coming in. I’d take anything I could get. “More than enough.”
He leaned forward and whispered, “Make a couple of batches for Sally and Trina, too, if you don’t mind. This town wouldn’t run without them.”
“You’ve got it.”
• • •
Sprocket and I had made our next stop at POPS. Or what was left of POPS at the moment. The day was starting to warm up and I loosened the scarf around my neck. I turned onto Main Street and couldn’t help but smile. I could hear music blasting from three doors away from my shop. Carson was at work.
I’d spent more than a few happy hours with Carson back in the day, skipping school and sipping Sloe Gin Fizzes and listening to music we thought was rebellious and reflected on our angst. Now I was a local business owner and a member of the chamber of commerce and he was the first person everyone in town turned to for a high-class renovation or remodeling job, but some things never totally changed. My man needed his tunes and he needed them cranked.
I walked in through the front of the shop. It was pretty much intact. The fire hadn’t spread this far before Eric Gladstone and his fellow firefighters had doused it. My blurry blue walls and glass shelves all still stood. My little tables with their ice cream parlor chairs were all still there. There was a little smoke damage, but most of it would be gone with a good scrubbing and a fresh coat of paint.
My heart still sank every time I walked into the kitchen, though. The wall that had sustained the worst damage was gone. That had been the one where Carson and I had found the diary. It was the least of the damage, though. There was smoke damage from the fire. Grease fires were notoriously smoky and mine had been no exception. Then there was the water damage from the firefighters putting out the fire. It wasn’t a total loss, but it hurt to look at it still. I’d been content here. I’d felt as if I’d made my own place in the world that suited me and sated me. My happy places kept getting unhappy.
“Good morning, Rebecca.” Carson reached over and turned the music down. “Did you find out who the diary belonged to?”
Carson had been every bit as fascinated as I had been by our find. “It’s like treasure, man,” he’d said. “A gem from the past.”
I shook my head. “No, but I have my first lead to follow. Marta Hansen owned this place before Allen. I’ll visit her and see who owned it before her.”
“Right on.” He glanced at his watch. “Coffee break time?”
“You bet.”
I plugged in my electric kettle and set up my French press. Carson sprawled into an ice cream chair, which looked all the more spindly with his gangly frame spread over it.
“I don’t suppose you’re experimenting with anything?” he asked, smiling up at me. It still amazed me to see how completely angelic he could look. Lord knew it had gotten him out of more than a few scrapes back when we were in high school.
I gestured to my tote bag. He stood back up, looking nearly mechanical as he rose, rummaged through the tote bag and came up with a container. “This?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm. It’s rosemary and truffle oil with shiitake crisps.” I tried to stop the smile that quirked at my lips. This was a good one and I knew it. I’d already dropped off some at Garrett’s office on my way to City Hall, where I’d also filled him in on my diary discovery.
“Hot damn, girl!” Carson said through his first mouthful. “How do you make mushrooms taste like potato chips?”
I turned and bowed. “Thank you. It’s a gift.”
I poured our coffees and sat down next to him. “Did you find anything more in the wall?” It had only been halfway down when we’d found the diary. I hoped maybe there was something more in there that would let us identify the author.
“Nope. Did you finish reading it?” Carson asked.
“Nope. Although Garrett read the end.”
“Fine pair of detectives we are.”
“And maybe let’s keep it that way.” Dan walked into the shop. He reached into the container and took a handful of popcorn. “Is there any more coffee?”
“Enough for one cup,” I said. This particular popcorn would probably go better with a nice Prosecco, but Dan was pretty relentless about not drinking on duty and I was pretty sure that day drinking was not a habit I wanted to start while my shop was closed.
“One cup is all I need.” He flipped one of the chairs around and straddled it. “So what are you detecting now, Rebecca?”
“I’m trying to figure out who owned the shop around the time that the diary was written.” I gave him his coffee and sat back down.
He took a sip of coffee and sighed. I wasn’t sure if it was happiness over the coffee or exasperation about me and the diary. “You really can’t resist a mystery, can you? Two near-death experiences weren’t enough for you?”
“This is nothing like what happened to Coco or to Melanie!” I protested. Again. “Nothing at all!”
“Mmm-hmm. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” he said. “I’m not sure I’ll survive another one of your adventures.”
“This is a sixty-year-old diary written by an unknown teenage girl using nicknames for everyone.” I tapped its cover with my index finger. “It’s not any kind of adventure at all. You should be grateful. It’s keeping me out of trouble while the shop is closed.”
Janet Barry pushed in with her double stroller. “Oh. It’s still closed? I heard the music and thought maybe . . .” Her words trailed off, but her hopeful expression spoke louder than they could have anyway.
I smiled. Janet had been one of my staunchest supporters. It might have started with allegiance to my Cashew Caramel Popcorn but it had spread to me personally. She’d helped form a stroller blockade against the press when they were hounding me and blocking the way into the shop and had been one of the first people through the door to show she believed in me despite some nasty rumors being spread. “It’s more closed for some people than others.”
I dug in my tote bag and pulled out another container. “For you.”
Her eyes lit up as she took it. “Is it?”
“Of course.” I’d made a small batch of her favorite.
She opened the co
ntainer and took a small bite. “So good. You don’t know how much I’ve missed this!”
Carson got up and held the door open for her to maneuver her Land Cruiser of a stroller out the door.
“That was nice of you,” Dan said.
“I’m a nice person.” Or at the very least I could pretend to be a nice person long enough to seem like one.
He snorted.
“Besides, Janet was there for me when things were down.” It was good to keep people on your side. This town was fickle. One day you were up. The next you were down. No one knew that better than I did. It was best to keep as many people on your side as you could at any given moment.
I stood up and began clearing away the coffee things. “You okay here on your own today, Carson?” I wasn’t much of an assistant, but I did provide some backup. I could totally hand him items as long as he was really clear about the difference between a socket wrench and an alligator wrench.
“Yep. I’m all good. What are you up to?” He sipped his coffee.
“The mayor ordered a special batch of Bacon Pecan Popcorn as welcome-to-the-political-process gifts for the city council candidates. I might as well get started on it.”
Dan shook his head. “That’s so Allen.”
“You would have been amazed if you’d heard the speech he gave.” I knew I’d been amazed.
Dan shot me a look. “You think I haven’t heard that speech? The one about having a calling?”
“Oh.” That was disappointing. It had been a politician’s trick. All rhetoric and no substance, then. “I thought it was one of those really heartfelt expressions of his soul.”
Dan patted my hand. “If it’s any solace, I think he means it one hundred percent, but don’t think it was unique.”
It was some solace. “Whether he meant it or not, he’s still willing to pay me for popcorn, and every little bit helps at the moment.” The insurance was covering the repairs to the shop, or at least most of them. It was not, however, buying groceries for me or dog food for Sprocket.
Assault and Buttery Page 4
