Creepy Christmas Waffle: Book 7 in the Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  The drive from her street down to the diner was a slow one on the slick icy roads, even with chains on her tires, something her boyfriend, Sheriff Frank Thompson, had installed for her right after the first snow of the season. Her street was located at the edge of town, backed up against the mountain wilderness, and the only way up and down was a single steep road.

  Driving in the snow was a normal everyday task she’d grown accustomed to and didn’t honestly mind, just so long as she didn’t get stuck.

  When Sonja was about halfway to the diner, she noticed a small hunched figure walking along the snowy sidewalk, cane in hand. If she hadn’t looked twice she wouldn’t have recognized it as Sam Hinkley under the mass of wool knit jackets and hats. Sam was an old friend of the family and a local farm owner.

  “Mr. Hinkley,” Sonja called out, rolling down her window as she stopped the van.

  “Sonja?” The elderly gentleman responded, his voice muffled by the fuzzy scarf over his face.

  “What are you doing so far away from the farm?”

  “Out to see your mother.” He walked up close to the vehicle to talk directly into the window, and most likely to gather some of the warmth from the car’s interior. “Gotta talk to her about playing Santa at the Christmas Eve party tomorrow night.”

  Every year at the block party, Mr. Hinkley would appear dressed as Santa Claus for all the kids. Even though there were far fewer children than ever before, he was still going to appear as Santa out of tradition.

  “You’re picking up the costume?” Sonja asked.

  “You bet.”

  “I thought Benjamin would give you a ride out here for something like that,” she commented. Benjamin was Mr. Hinkley’s young, strong farmhand, (and an old crush of Sonja’s). Mr. Hinkley’s eyesight was too poor for him to drive himself, so Benjamin often gave him rides around town.

  “Ben is out of town until this evening. He’s checking up on an old friend, but he’ll be back this evening for the party.”

  Sonja nodded, feeling like that was something she should have known. When Benjamin had first arrived in town, and first stepped foot in her restaurant, the diner owner had become slightly infatuated with him. Luckily for her, Sheriff Frank Thompson had swooped in and declared his feelings for her before she could commit to dating the farmhand. Sonja couldn’t be more grateful, feeling like she was a far better match for Frank than she’d have been with Benjamin.

  However, she’d not seen much of the young man since she began dating the sheriff and couldn’t help but wonder if he were still angry about the situation. Refraining from those thoughts for the moment, she focused on the elderly gentleman standing out in the freezing snow. “Would you like a ride?”

  “Oh,” the gentleman muttered, wiggling his white mustache back and forth with a twitch of his lip, “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Not a bother at all. Get in.”

  “Well, I won’t turn ya’ down then.” Walking slowly around to the other side of the car, he opened the door to get in. “Oh, hello kitty,” he said. “Do you mind if I share your seat?”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped as the cat stood up, stretched, and then hopped down into the back of the van. Sam, not noticing the shock on the young woman’s face, climbed in and shut the door.

  “You can see that cat?” Sonja pressed.

  “Of course, I can,” he retorted with a slight laugh. “My eyesight isn’t that bad, yet.”

  Deciding that pursuing the subject of the ghost cat would prove to be a futile and awkward conversation, Sonja remained quiet, letting the moment pass unnoticed.

  “So, how have things been out on the farm?” Sonja asked after she’d finally got the hulking van turned around in the snow and headed back up the incline toward her mother’s house. She knew she’d be late to the diner, but Alison, Sonja’s best friend, and business partner would understand.

  After all, it was Christmas time, and what normal decent-hearted human being wouldn’t offer an elderly man a ride in the snow?

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you since the Founder’s Day Picnic,” Sonja mentioned, looking over at Sam who looked content to be inside the heated vehicle and not out in the cold.

  “Oh yeah,” he drawled, “Well, I honestly haven’t been off the farm much since then. Had Thanksgiving with your friend Alison and her family, but that’s really been it.”

  “Just been busy?” She asked, hoping it wasn’t health issues that kept him from going out too often.

  “Too busy,” he stated.

  “Too busy?”

  “Well, the farming business isn’t exactly easy nowadays, and not for the reasons you might think.”

  Sonja tried to grasp what he meant by that since he obviously was referring to more than just the hard labor involved in farming. “Are you talking about business, politics?”

  Sam sighed, clearly frustrated by having to discuss the subject. “Between the Nature Preservation Society of the West, annoying family members, and crazed businessmen looking to buy me out, I’ve just never heard the end of it. Calls here, paperwork there. Everyone wants a piece of my land.”

  “Sounds difficult,” she commented, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

  Sonja knew about the Nature Preservation Society of the West, or NPSW, only because of another friend of the family, Richard Hanson, worked for them and ran the local sector. Originally, the non-profit organization was opened to fight against the tyranny of millionaire and billionaire tycoons looking to wipe out beautiful wilderness locations to put up stores, hotels, resorts, condos and more. Local land owners could sign up so their portion of the Rocky Mountain wilderness was part of the society, and pay dues to help support the cause. Unfortunately, just like many unions, the organization had become almost as mixed up and corrupt as the hotel tycoons—demanding money, controlling its members, and ultimately swindling hard working people out of their land with the assertion that, “the owner no longer upheld the ideals of the organization.”

  Richard, or as he preferred to be called “Dick,” was desperate to turn the organization around—to bring it back to its original purpose and function. So far, it looked like he had failed.

  Sonja just never understood why some people, or some corporations, seemed so insistent on harassing the elderly who had worked their entire lives to make something of themselves. Attempting to take away land or money was a horrible thing to do on its own, but to do it to someone who couldn’t fight back—and to do it under the false pretense of nature preservation—was another thing altogether.

  “I’ve tried to help Dick out in any way I can, but I still won’t sign my farm over to that infernal organization any more than I would sell it off to some hotel guru.”

  Sonja knew even less about hotel and resort corporations than she did about NPSW, and trying to make out all the business and politics associated with the whole situation just made her head hurt. However, she could sympathize, at least a little. She loved her little business, The Waffle Diner and Eatery, and would be very angry if anyone tried to use underhanded tactics to take it away from her.

  “It doesn’t help that my idiot of a nephew is in town,” Sam added.

  “Nephew?” Sonja inquired. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.”

  He folded his arms and scrunched down in his seat a little. “Unfortunately, so, my dear. He is my only living blood relative and I never see him unless he’s in dire need of money.”

  “I’m surprised I haven’t met him.”

  “Don’t be. He usually doesn’t stay more than a few hours in town before he’s off and on his way.”

  Sonja shifted in her seat, peering through the falling snow that had only intensified since she left the house. “So why is he staying with you now?”

  “I’ve not had that kid stay in my house since he was probably twelve.” Mr. Hinkley replied. “Now, he insists that he is visiting for Christmas—without asking me, mind you—and has set up shop in the attic,” Sam growled a lit
tle, clearly frustrated with the situation. “He tried to take the guest bedroom, but I told him no. That’s Benjamin’s room and it has Benjamin’s things in it. I wouldn’t trust Dillion in there for a second.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she agreed, trying to be as supportive as possible. “What do you think he wants?”

  At this, Sam looked angrier than Sonja had ever seen him, his face squishing up and turning red like a shriveled beet. “I’m sure he’s hoping to get in my good favors, thinks he can make me change my mind about my will. It’s not like I’m even sick, or close to dying. In fact, I’m healthy as a horse. Doctor says so. But this darn kid can’t wait to get my money, and thinks he can pamper me up and make me change my will.”

  “That’s horrible.” Sonja felt a swell of anger in her own chest, making her heart thud faster. “I’d kick him out.”

  “Well, seeing as he’s family and it’s Christmas, I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”

  “I see.”

  “And I’m not about to go through all the work of changing my will again. I’d give Ben everything before I’d even think to throw a dime this kid’s way.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sonja asserted quietly.

  The elderly gentleman shrugged his shoulders. “Not much you can do about it. I’m sure he’ll be gone as soon as Christmas is over and he realizes he won’t get any more money from me ever again.”

  “Well, I have an idea,” Sonja proclaimed, changing the subject and also wanting to help in the only way she knew how. “Why not come down for a free plate of waffles when you’re done talking to Mom. I’m sure she’d even give you a ride.”

  “I won’t argue with free food.” The old man let out a raspy laugh. “Maybe this holiday will turn around after all.”

  CHAPTER 4

  * * *

  Stepping into the back door of The Waffle Diner and Eatery, Sonja was greeted by the instant heat of the kitchen, created by a combination of ovens, griddles, and waffle irons. It was a delightful welcome compared to the frigid chill of the mountain air. The atmosphere was filled with the smells of cooking, particularly with hints of cinnamon and peppermint, and the radio on the counter echoed a velvety man’s voice as he sang the classic carol, White Christmas.

  Alison stood near the griddle along with her father-in-law Vic cooking up bacon, sausage, and eggs for the morning crew of customers. Vic had worked as the diner’s head grill cook for almost as long as the diner had been around, while Alison’s father had been the original owner. Alison had married Vic’s son, Alex, over a year prior, and now The Waffle Diner and Eatery had become quite the family affair.

  Sonja was the only person not related, but she was the current owner—and she and Ally had been such close friends for so long that Sonja was as good as family.

  “Hiya,” Sonja held up a hand in greeting before beginning the lengthy process of peeling away layers of coats, hats, and scarves.

  “Hi, Sonj’,” Alison replied, brushing her hands off on her apron and walking away from the griddle. “You got it, Vic?”

  “Got it,” he winked, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Maybe we should have Vic play Santa at the party,” Sonja joked. “He’s got the look for it.”

  “I am quite all right, thank you.” He flipped a fried egg over, letting it sizzle in the grease.

  “Hey, the only kid you’d have to deal with is Cynthia, really,” Ally added, continuing the joke. Cynthia was Alison’s little baby girl, and likely to be one of the only children at the Christmas party that year. Most everyone who had originally attended the party as children were now grown. The only other children Sonja could think of were Richard Hanson’s grandchildren who visited every year.

  “And those Hanson kids,” Vic shot back with a laugh, obviously on the same train of thought as the diner owner. “’sides, it wouldn’t be Christmas without Sam playing the part.”

  “That’s true,” Sonja nodded, pulling her apron, the festive one with a little snowman sewn to the pocket, off the peg and slipping it over her head. “Where do you guys need me?” she asked. Despite being the owner, Sonja tried to work at every job in the restaurant to show all her employees that she was a fun and a fair boss.

  “Actually, we’re short on servers.” Alison pointed out toward the crowded diner. “Danni couldn’t make it because of the snow.”

  “You’d think that with this weather, customers wouldn’t bother coming out.”

  “Christmas is in two days,” Ally added. “But people still want to eat your food, even today.”

  “Good to know,” she smiled back at her friend.

  “So, if you don’t mind serving and doing some of the waffle orders at the same time—”

  “No problem,” Sonja replied, grabbing a pad of order slips. “Which tables need a server?”

  “Start off with table four.”

  “Got it.” Sonja nodded and headed through the swinging doorway out to the dining area.

  The song on the radio came to an end and the radio announcer, Tommy the Tornado, came on. “Hey folks, I just wanted to let you know it is going to be a white Christmas this year, just like ol’ Bing said. But don’t get too excited yet. We just received a severe winter storm warning for the Haunted Falls area for this evening. Authorities are encouraging residents to stay inside, but if you are going out make sure to bundle up and be safe on those roads. They’re going to be icy!”

  Ignoring the radio and walking toward table four, Sonja instantly recognized the gentleman sitting there. He had a head of thick salt and pepper colored hair, a well-pressed flannel shirt, and a pair of dressy denim jeans on.

  “Hi, Dick,” she greeted, approaching him with her order pad at the ready.

  “Mornin’, Sonja.”

  “Where’s the family?” Sonja glanced around to see if any of the grandkids were there. Every year Richard’s daughter and her husband came to visit with their four kids. The whole crew always came to the Christmas party so Sonja was used to seeing them.

  “Well, I had some work I needed to get done this morning. The NPSW doesn’t wait, not even for Christmas.”

  “Understandable,” Sonja noted. She did not envy Mr. Hanson’s job. Trying to balance the politics between the NPSW, the local land owners, and also fighting the hotel tycoons sounded like quite the task.

  “And honestly, I just decided I needed a short break from the kiddos.” He laughed slightly, showing a hint of embarrassment in his cheeks. “When you get used to living alone for so many years, having four kids in the house can be a little overwhelming.”

  “I won’t argue there,” Sonja agreed. “What can I get you to eat?”

  “I think I’ll have an order of those Christmas Holly Waffles everyone’s been raving about.”

  Sonja jotted it down, “They have been our most popular item this season. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, a hot cup of coffee?”

  “Did you want our Christmas Crème with that?”

  “Of course,” he laughed, patting his belly. “How could I turn it down?”

  “It really is excellent,” she boasted a little.

  “Also, give me a fried egg, over easy, and a side of bacon as well.”

  “You got it,” Sonja nodded.

  “One more thing, Sonja.” He raised one finger as if he had something important to say.

  “You must be real hungry this morning,” Sonja teased.

  “No, it’s not that. I just was supposed to receive a call for work, money matters. I was wondering if you had a phone I could borrow so I could call them. I accidently forgot mine as I was rushing out the door this morning. Probably one of the kiddos has it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Dick, but our landline here at the diner went down last night because of the snow, and there is only more snow on the way.”

  “Darn.” Mr. Hanson’s face went a little grim. “Well, I suppose you’ll need to cancel my order. I’ve gotta find a phone.”

  “Hey, hold on a minute,” S
onja insisted, pulling her own phone from the apron pocket. “You can just use my cell phone.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’m sure.”

  “Thanks a million, Sonja. I owe you one.” He reached out to take the phone, accidently grasping the diner owner’s hand as he grabbed a hold of it. Instantly, Sonja felt a jolt of biting pain shoot through her hand, up her arm, and into her neck.

  “Hey,” Dick muttered. “You okay? You really jumped there. Did I give you a shock?”

  Sonja shook her head, ridding herself of the ghostly imagery. “It’s nothing.”

  “If you say so,” the man replied, tilting his head with a concerned stare. “Thanks for the phone.”

  “No problem,” she replied.

  Taking the phone, he headed into the diner’s entryway, a small alcove just by the front doorway, to make his call.

  Hiding her hand under the counter, she quickly unfolded the gauze to check the wound. She wondered if Richard pressing too hard on her hand caused the pain. Pulling off the last strand of medical bandages, Sonja’s gasped. Her hand was as perfect as it had ever been. No cuts, no marks, not even a single scar or line indicating what she was sure had been there earlier that day.

  * * *

  Turning, Sonja trotted back into the kitchen to get Richard’s meal ready. “Vic, can you get me a plate of eggs, over easy, and some bacon?”

  “You got it,” he nodded, tapping the grill with his spatula.

  Getting quickly to work, Sonja began mixing up a fresh batch of waffle batter. As with all her recipes, she created the base mixture with the normal flour, eggs, milk, and other essentials. The replacement of brown sugar for the usual white sugar gave the batter a certain richness. Then, to give it that traditional winter taste, Sonja added a few drops of pure vanilla extract, hand crushed and powdered cloves, a few pinches of cinnamon, and—her personal favorite—star anise.

  Blending it all together until it took on a smooth texture, she poured a helping into the hot waffle iron. While the diner owner preferred to cook her waffles in a cast iron skillet on stove top, thanks to her introduction to that style of waffle while visiting her boyfriend’s family, they simply did not have the time or resources to make every order at the diner in such a manner.