Menace in Christmas River (Christmas River 8)

by Meg Muldoon

  “How long did this take you to make?” I said, my eyes going back to the piece, which seemed to be more intricate and detailed with every look.

  “I started on the concept right after Halloween,” she said. “It took three attempts and a fortune in chocolate, but I think I finally got it to where I want it.”

  She smiled.

  “Somehow I managed to find the time in between choir practice and soccer practice and PTA meetings. You see, I’m a mother of three young children, and they take up most of my time. But most nights, after putting them to bed, I’d go into the kitchen and work on this.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “It’s from The Princess Bride, isn’t it?” I asked.

  Her face, which had been pale and washed-out before, beamed brightly.

  “You can tell?” she said, her voice trembling with giddiness.

  I nodded.

  Growing up, The Princess Bride had been one of my very favorite movies. And it was clear to me that her piece replicated the film’s final scene.

  “I call it ‘The Princess and Westley,’” she said. “For me, there’s nothing that says great love or Valentine’s Day more than their love story.”

  She glanced at her creation.

  “But, uh, if it’s based on the movie, then how come Princess Buttercup is in tears here?” I asked.

  In my recollection, Westley and Buttercup ended up riding off into the sunset together, escaping the evil Prince Humperdinck.

  She swallowed hard, suddenly looking slightly nervous.

  “Well… it’s, uh, it’s just my own interpretation of the story,” she said. “But I think there’s always something a little sad in feeling something so deep for somebody. I wanted Princess Buttercup to convey that.”

  She swallowed nervously again.

  “I mean, I know it’s a little different than the others. Maybe it’s a little too abstract, but—”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not abstract at all. It’s… It’s stunning work.”

  “You think?” she said, the timber of her voice quivering with excitement.

  I smiled.

  “I can really see all the effort you put in,” I said. “It’s very unique and original. I can tell, too, that you put a lot of thought into it.”

  She looked down, as if to hide the fact that her cheeks were turning red.

  “I just… well… I was just afraid I wouldn’t measure up to everybody else here,” she said, letting out a breath of relief. “I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time.”

  “You absolutely do measure up,” I said. “Actually, this is one of the—”

  But I stopped speaking as I saw the woman’s eyes drift over my shoulder.

  The smile fell from her face faster than a car off a steep cliff.

  Her coloring turned stark white.

  I furrowed my brow, confused by the sudden change in her expression. Then I turned to see who was standing there, and I understood.

  Such a reaction from contestants had happened several times already today when Cliff Copperstone stopped at their station.

  I supposed I had been no different when I’d seen him sitting in that resort boardroom a few days earlier. I, too, had been surprised and shocked at seeing a real life celebrity with my very own eyes.

  But now that I knew how Cliff really was in real life, I sort of found myself resenting the way people were completely awestruck by him.

  Because in my assessment, the man didn’t deserve one-tenth of the attention people hurled on him.

  I stepped aside so that he and Councilwoman Tunstall could get a good look at the beautiful chocolate creation.

  But as I did, I noticed that Cliff wasn’t making any move to go forward.

  He just stared at the contestant for a long moment, a strange, confounded look on his face.

  But it wasn’t long before Cliff’s expression caved into one of unmistakable disgust.

  I bit my lower lip, feeling immediate anger at the judgmental glare he was giving the poor woman.

  After a moment, his eyes fell back down to his clipboard, and he scribbled something.

  Then he brushed past us, hardly giving Samantha Garner’s lovingly-crafted chocolate sculpture more than a moment’s glance.

  As I turned my attention back to her, I felt a pang of hurt deep down in my gut.

  It was obvious that his reaction had completely crushed her.

  What a complete jerk.

  I quickly filled out my scoresheet, giving Samantha Garner’s chocolate entry a full 10 out of 10.

  “You did a beautiful job, Samantha,” I said.

  She forced a smile, but it didn’t obscure the fact that the poor woman was close to tears.

  My mind filled with expletives, all aimed squarely at Cliff Copperstone’s smug, mean face.

  Chapter 19

  “You don’t look happy,” Kara said.

  “I’m not. In fact, I’d say I’m downright…”

  I trailed off, the anger I felt inside causing my voice to quiver.

  Shortly after seeing Samantha Garner’s chocolate sculpture, Cliff Copperstone paused the entire judging process to step out and rebook his flight out of nearby Redmond, which not surprisingly, had been cancelled this afternoon due to the weather. That would have been just fine, if the call had taken five minutes or so. But thus far, nearly half an hour had gone by, and there was still no sign of the celebrity chef. The large crowd was starting to get antsy, and the voices, which had been hushed before, had now risen to loud, anxious grumblings.

  The sound of the February wind roaring outside, combined with the creaking and groaning of the auditorium walls, only added to the tense feeling.

  It was becoming obvious that the storm wasn’t dissipating. And that if we didn’t wrap the Chocolate Championship up in a timely fashion, a lot of people would have a tough time getting home this afternoon.

  I stepped closer to Daniel and Kara, looking around to make sure no one heard what we were talking about.

  “I can’t believe he’s making us all wait like this,” I said under my breath. “He’s the most unprofessional, inconsiderate, rude…”

  I trailed off again.

  It wasn’t just the fact that he was wasting everybody’s time that had gotten me so riled up.

  The way Cliff Copperstone had treated Samantha Garner was beyond despicable. The woman had created a beautiful work of art, and he had dismissed it like it was unworthy of his time.

  And what’s more, I had the sneaking suspicion that the reason he did so was because of the way Samantha Garner looked, and the fact that she wasn’t dressed professionally like the rest of the contestants here today.

  The whole thing made my stomach turn.

  I hated when people judged others based on their looks. And it was even more reprehensible in a setting like this, when people were supposed to be judged on their creativity – not whether or not they dressed the part of a pastry chef.

  Kara shook her head slightly.

  “Maybe Cliff is just having a bad day,” she said. “I mean, you never know. Maybe something’s going on with him and he doesn’t want to be here. You never know what people are going through.”

  I knew that Kara was just trying to somehow justify his behavior. Being the big fan that she was, it must have been hard for her to hear the truth about what he was really like.

  “Somehow I really doubt that it’s just a bad day,” I said, biting my lip. “I get the feeling that this is just how he is.”

  She let out an unsteady breath.

  “Well, I guess he’s not at all like he pretends to be on TV,” she said, sadly, her cotton candy dreams of Cliff Copperstone completely rained on.

  “It’s just a real shame he turned out to be such a jerk,” she added. “I had such high hopes.”

  I let out a sigh of my own.

  “So did I.”

  It wasn’t that I was thinking Cliff and I would be bes
t friends after this. I had just hoped that I’d come through the Chocolate Championship with some good publicity for my business and maybe a good contact in the Northwest culinary world.

  Obviously, I’d been grossly mistaken.

  Daniel put an arm around my shoulder, comforting me.

  “Cin, you don’t have to stand for any of this,” he said. “We can leave right this minute if you want.”

  I shook my head.

  “No, that’d only make it worse,” I said. “I’ve just got to get through it now.”

  I looked up at him and squeezed his hand, letting him know that I appreciated his thoughtfulness, nonetheless.

  “Well, just think of this way: by tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten all about this whole thing,” he said. “And you’ll never have to look at another piece of chocolate so long as you live if you don’t want to.”

  That got a slight smile out of me.

  “That’s a little extreme,” I said. “I don’t know if I could live the rest of my life without chocolate.”

  “Okay, well, you never have to look at a chocolate sculpture again,” he said. “Just keep your eyes on the prize, Cin. Stand up for yourself, and do your best just to get through this.”

  I nodded some more.

  “No chance you could cancel the event on account of the storm?” I asked. “Get me out of the unpleasant situation I’ve found myself in?”

  I asked it in a joking tone, but then noticed the serious expression on his face.

  “I have been thinking about that,” he said, pulling away and looking at me, then at Kara. “I’ve been thinking that if this thing doesn’t blow out within the next hour, then the Sheriff’s Office should step in.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

  “I know it’s not the popular thing to do,” he said. “But I don’t think a few chocolate sculptures are worth anybody losing their lives over. No matter what Julie Van Dorn might have to say about it”

  “Jeez. Is it that bad out there?” Kara asked.

  From inside the windowless auditorium, the only way anybody knew there was a storm going on was from the sound of the building groaning in the wind.

  “It’s getting there,” Daniel said bluntly. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

  Kara’s eyes widened slightly. Then she looked at me.

  We were two-thirds of the way through the judging. The last third shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour, I wagered.

  Everybody had put so much effort into their chocolate art work. Some folks had come as far as Denver and San Diego to compete. And as long as we all were here, it seemed a shame to cancel the event before a winner could be declared.

  “I’ll see you guys in a little bit,” I said, squeezing both of their shoulders and backing away.

  “Where are you going?” Kara asked.

  If Julie Van Dorn was going to let Cliff Copperstone run roughshod on all of us, then somebody else was going to have to put their foot down.

  “I’m going to get this damn show on the road,” I said.

  Chapter 20

  He might have been some big shot in the culinary world.

  Hell, he might have been the best chef this side of the Rockies.

  But Cliff Copperstone was in Christmas River now.

  He wasn’t in a place like New York City, where behavior like this might have been tolerated. He was in Christmas River. And in Christmas River, people were expected to act like considerate, civilized human beings.

  And if nobody was going to set him straight, then I guess it was left up to me to make things right.

  I opened the heavy metal door that led out of the auditorium and walked down the long deserted hallway that paralleled the large covered area and parking lot outside. My eyes drifted out the windows.

  I found myself suddenly stopping dead in my tracks.

  “Oh my…” I mumbled, unable to complete the sentence.

  Living in the mountains of Central Oregon, I’d seen a good share of storms in my time. Storms that ripped down trees and hurled snow and caused whole forests to fall deathly silent.

  But never had I seen what I was seeing now.

  Drifts, nearly hip-high, covered the sidewalks. Several pine trees surrounding the lot were bent down in agony, the weight of the snow pushing them to their breaking point. The cars in the parking lot were just mounds of fresh powder. The grey skies overhead weren’t done unleashing their fury, either. Bits of swirling ice and snow filled the air, dancing in the stiff winds.

  And perhaps what was most shocking of all was the sheen that lay atop the snow pack, glistening in the pale afternoon light.

  Though I had only seen it once when I was just a child, I knew that this was what old timers like Warren around these parts called Dead Man’s Glow.

  It was a rare occurrence in Central Oregon. But every once and a while, a real rip-roarer of a storm would come barreling through our mountains, bringing with it an unholy barrage of ice that snapped trees, downed powerlines, and could hurt people.

  And in some cases, more than just hurt people. Hence the name, Dead Man’s Glow.

  I felt a pit growing in my stomach as I gazed at the treacherous landscape.

  Warren had been right about those clouds the night before.

  We needed to wrap the Chocolate Championship up. And we needed to wrap it up now—

  “Did somebody send you to find me?”

  The deep voice echoed down the hallway, and I spun around quickly.

  He was leaning against one of the windows, his face partially hidden in the shadows of the hallway.

  I glanced around to see if anybody else was near, but it appeared to be just the two of us.

  I walked quickly up to him, my snow boots slapping hard against the linoleum floor.

  “No, I came to find you on my own,” I said. “We should get back and wrap things up.”

  I figured that was rather polite considering what I really wanted to say to him.

  Cliff Copperstone closed his eyes, and let out a ragged sigh.

  “I suppose,” he said. “Though I don’t know why we have to go through the formalities. I think we already have our winner.”

  I bit my lip hard.

  I knew he was talking about Ryan Cooley’s entry.

  “Did you get a good look at that last contestant’s work?” I asked. “Samantha Garner’s sculpture?”

  He opened his eyes, and I noticed something strange about them.

  They looked funny somehow. Red and raw and bloodshot.

  Almost like… almost like he’d been crying.

  But then I caught a whiff of something else, and I realized that it wasn’t that.

  A sharp gin aroma emanated from his mouth as he spoke.

  “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “What score did you give her?”

  He scratched the tattoo on his neck, then shrugged.

  “A 3.5.”

  I knew it.

  “You’re serious?” I said. “You only gave it a 3.5?”

  He looked dead at me, then nodded.

  “It was far too sentimental and foolish,” he mumbled.

  I couldn’t help but shake my head in disgust.

  Something in his expression changed suddenly. As if I had done something completely out of line.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said. “Who are you anyway? A pie baker in a small town. That’s what you are.”

  I met his hard stare, not willing to back down.

  “You’re right – you don’t owe anything to me,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But you owe something to the contestants, Mr. Copperstone. You owe them a fair shake.”

  “Do you actually think the world’s a fair place?” he sneered. “You actually believe that people get a fair shake?”

  He shook his head and looked past my shoulder.

  “I guess you might think they do, living in a place like this your whole life,” he said. “But it’s not like t
hat in the real world.”

  “Why are you even here?” I said. “You didn’t have to judge this competition. Why do it?”

  He looked away, back out the window.

  “I don’t know.”

  The words sounded as empty and cold and hollow as any words could sound.

  And I realized then that Cliff Copperstone was as empty, cold, and hollow as the words he had just said.

  And something about that… something about it sort of filled me with a staggering sadness that I couldn’t quite understand.

  I realized I had nothing more to say to him.

  Cliff was a brick wall. And nothing I said was going to change that.

  “I’m going to find Julie,” I said. “The Sheriff’s going to shut down the event because of the storm. It should have never taken place to begin with.”

  I turned sharply and walked away from him, back toward the auditorium.

  But before I got far, a soft voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Cinnamon.”

  He had finally gotten my name right.

  I turned around.

  He backed away from the window.

  “You don’t know what’s going on here,” he said. “You think you do, but you don’t understand a thing.”

  I furrowed my brow and was about to ask what he meant. But as I opened my mouth, he was already walking away from me toward the doors that led out to the parking lot.

  Leaving me confused and angry and wishing that this hellish day would just come to an end.

  Chapter 21

  I stood at the top of the auditoritum steps, frantically searching the crowd for the lean figure in the cowboy hat and Sheriff’s jacket.

  Daniel knew things were bad outside. But they’d taken a severe turn for the worse in the last half-hour or so, and he needed to know immediately. I was sure that if he saw that layer of shine atop the snow, he’d come to the same conclusion that I just had.

  That while it would disappoint a heck of a lot of people, to continue on with the Chocolate Championship Showdown with the way the storm was blowing outside was just downright irresponsible.