Scene of the Brine

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  3

  The following day, Sugar dropped into Piper’s Picklings. She seemed disappointed at first not to see Ralph, who, after removing the plywood he’d used to close Piper’s doorway for the night, had returned to his workshop to put finishing touches on Piper’s new door. But Sugar soon bubbled excitedly to Piper about her latest catering coup—Lydia Porter’s tea.

  “It will be the event of the year and will be a huge boost to my business,” she said. “Lydia intends to invite a huge crowd. She says it’s to get to know the residents of Cloverdale,” Sugar said, then winked. “But I think it’s mostly to show off the house and what they’ve done with it.”

  “If she’s out to impress, she was smart to get you to handle the food,” Piper said.

  “Thank you, Piper. I’m sure Jeremy played a big part in that—the dear man. Tonight, you know, is his Realtors’ dinner. I thought I had all my ducks in a row, but I suddenly panicked that I might not have enough of the brandied cherry preserves. I hope you didn’t sell the last of those jars.”

  “Didn’t sell a one. How many do you want?”

  “Five more should do it. We can just pack them in this.” She held up a brightly colored canvas tote and followed Piper to the workroom. As Piper pulled out the preserves from her shelf, wrapped the jars in protective paper, and loaded them into the bag, Sugar talked about the rest of her menu, which totally impressed Piper: filet mignon with béarnaise sauce, potato puffs, and stuffed artichokes, followed by Sugar’s almond cakes and Piper’s brandied cherries.

  “Who gets to enjoy this fantastic spread?”

  “Oh, it’s all Realtors. This is a welcoming dinner, of sorts. Jeremy has been buying up most of the smaller agencies in the area. Stan Yeager has been one of the rare holdouts.”

  “Stan Yeager?” Piper knew Yeager, who had helped her find her own shop’s premises, and had enjoyed working with him.

  Sugar nodded. “I guess not everyone realizes the advantages of being under one large and stable business umbrella.”

  Or is ready to give up their autonomy for promised security, Piper thought but did not say. Sugar, she figured, was probably echoing Jeremy’s words, which was understandable. Piper loved being an independent business owner and couldn’t imagine selling out to some kind of bigger pickling operation. Not that the offer had ever come up.

  “By the way,” she said, leading Sugar back to the shop area, “Just to give credit where it’s due, Mrs. Tilley recommended you to Lydia Porter for the tea.” Piper didn’t mention her own prompting, convinced she’d only hurried things up a bit. “Although I’m sure Jeremy added his own encouragements.”

  “That’s good to know, Piper, thanks. I have little thank-you goodie baskets. I’ll take one over to Mrs. Tilley.” She grinned. “Jeremy will have to make do with filet mignon.”

  “I don’t think he’ll complain.”

  “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to my work.” Sugar glanced at the partly finished shop doorway. “Say hi to Ralph for me when he comes back, will you?”

  Piper promised, then waved good-bye as she reached for her ringing phone. It was Will Burchett, the Christmas tree farmer she’d been dating.

  “I’m hoping you’re free tonight,” Will said, “and in the mood for a steak dinner.”

  “Wow! How do you do it?” Piper asked. “Read my mind, I mean. Sugar Heywood was just here and she had me drooling over the menu she’s fixing, which happens to be filet mignon.”

  “Pure serendipity,” Will said, laughing. “Or credit an old friend of mine who’d just called. He’s passing through and wants to get together for dinner. With him, dinner out means only one thing: a huge steak. I suggested Chandler’s. They have seafood, too, in case you or his wife would prefer that.”

  “That sounds great.” Piper had heard good things about Chandler’s, which was several miles out of town but considered to be well worth the drive. She asked about the couple she’d be meeting and learned that Matt Fleming was a former college classmate of Will’s and that he and his wife, Jen, lived in Albany. Since Piper had lived in Albany for a few years until very recently, she felt sure she’d find things in common to chat about with Jen if Will and Matt got carried away reminiscing, which was likely.

  They settled on the time and Piper hung up with a smile, looking forward to the evening. Though they’d been seeing each other for a few months, she and Will had been taking things slowly, particularly after Piper’s ex-fiancé, Scott, had taken it into his head to move to Cloverdale. Though Piper had done her best to remain distant from her former fiancé—both emotionally and physically—circumstances kept defeating her efforts. Will had been amazingly patient, which Piper appreciated tremendously.

  The rest of the afternoon kept her busy with customers—despite Dirk Unger’s skepticism about her “niche” market—but she managed to work in a few pleasant thoughts about Will, speculations on what to wear that evening, and the taste of filet mignon.

  . . .

  Will picked her up at seven, looking great in “dress” denims topped with a dark tee and sports jacket. Will’s summer tan had faded over the winter but would no doubt reappear as the weather continued to warm and he became active again in his fields. Piper looked forward to that, since it was the tan highlighting his amazing blue eyes last August that had first caught her attention. She had decided on a red sweater with a few sparkly threads running through, along with a black skirt and heels. She’d pulled her dark hair back loosely, adding a few twists secured by pretty barrettes. The appreciative look in Will’s eyes told Piper she’d done better than okay.

  On the ride to Chandler’s, Will filled Piper in a little more about his friend. “We both started out in plant sciences,” he said, “but Matt switched to a business major. He took a job as a market analyst, which means he travels a lot. I haven’t seen him for, oh, I guess about five years.”

  Piper had friends she hadn’t seen in quite a while, but with whom she’d managed to stay in touch through e-mail and social media. Will, she knew, was more of a face-to-face person than an online chatter, so she said, “You’ll have a lot to catch up on.”

  When they drew near the restaurant, a couple about their age—he in a dark suit and tie and she in a dress and stylish shawl—were walking toward the entrance. “That’s them,” he said, and tooted his horn lightly. The two looked over, their faces lighting up as they recognized Will. They waited as Will parked and within minutes the four were exchanging greetings and introductions. Will had a few inches on Matt, Piper noticed, but Matt probably had several pounds on Will, possibly due to the difference in their occupations. Though Will ate like a horse, he also worked like one, and the balance of calories showed. Jen was blond, pretty, and, like her husband, very friendly. Piper looked forward to a very enjoyable evening. All four headed into the dark, wood-paneled restaurant, and Piper smiled as she caught delicious aromas of sizzling steaks and perfectly seasoned vegetables.

  When Piper opened her menu, she stifled a gasp at the prices. She glanced at Will for some hint of direction but he and Matt were deep into “what have you been doing?” talk. When he finally glanced at his own menu, he never flinched, so Piper took that as a go-ahead sign to order what she liked. She hoped the Christmas tree business was flourishing.

  As they waited for their food and between sips of wine, Piper learned that Matt and Jen were the parents of ten-month-old Dylan, safely ensconced at the moment with his maternal grandparents; that Matt was very satisfied with his job; and that Jen had left a teaching position to be a stay-at-home mom. “Just until Dylan’s old enough for preschool,” she explained. She had also jumped at the chance to accompany Matt on this trip. “I love Dylan to pieces,” she said, “but I need a dose of grown-up talk once in a while.”

  Conversation slowed as their orders arrived—all four had chosen steak, and none, apparently, cared to be overly distracted while enjoy
ing it—then picked up speed again at coffee time. As Will and Matt slipped into college reminiscences, Piper chatted with Jen about her own time in Albany, explaining how she’d worked in the tax office before deciding to chuck it all and open her pickling shop in Cloverdale. After answering a few questions about pickling, she brought up Lydia Porter. “She’s a newcomer to Cloverdale, originally from Albany, where, I understand, she was connected to a private school. You wouldn’t happen to know the name, would you?” From Jen’s just bit into something awful expression, Piper judged she had.

  “Lydia’s in Cloverdale? My sympathies,” Jen said.

  “Uh-oh. That bad?”

  Jen laughed. “Well, I might be exaggerating a tiny bit. I’m sure she has friends who think she’s wonderful.”

  “But?”

  “Well, she was on the board at the private school where I taught, Tedbury Academy. Her son and daughter had attended, and she did, too, many years ago, and it apparently was very important to her to maintain the school’s image. This, to her, meant severely limiting who was or was not admitted. She didn’t seem to care an iota about the academics. Lydia Porter was one reason I found it easy to leave when Dylan was born. Now that she’s gone, I’ll be much happier to return when the time comes.”

  “Honey,” Matt interrupted, “what was the name of that guy who had that crazy party the night before graduation?” The conversation having been turned in a new direction, Piper listened to the story as all three contributed their own memories. She enjoyed the peek into Will’s pre-Cloverdale days, though by the time the evening ended—reasonably early, since they all had a busy day ahead of them—what lingered in her mind was Jen Fleming’s comments about Lydia Porter.

  She had no reason to think Lydia’s apparent snobbery would affect her one way or another. But in a town as small as Cloverdale, Piper didn’t doubt it would affect someone, and the first person who came to mind was Sugar Heywood, simply because she was seeing Lydia Porter’s son. Sugar was a lovely woman and a successful entrepreneur. But she had worked her way to that position, pulling herself up by the proverbial bootstraps. This would impress a lot of people but Piper had a feeling Lydia Porter would not be one of them.

  4

  It’s beautiful!”

  Piper gazed in awe at the door Ralph Strawbridge unloaded from his truck. He propped it against the outside wall of Piper’s Picklings as he got ready to haul away the plywood that had covered Piper’s doorway overnight. The lower half of the door had been carved in bas-relief, as Ralph had promised, with a variety of vegetables linked by vines, which then curled around and over the window on the upper half. A warm stain and glossy finish had highlighted each cucumber, apple, and bean to artistic perfection.

  “So, you like it?” Ralph asked unnecessarily. A small crowd gathered, adding their appreciative “ahs.” Piper could only nod dumbly, grinning from ear to ear as she took it all in.

  “Hey, look at that!” a familiar voice cried, and Piper turned to see Scott Littleton climb out of his red Volvo. “That’s great!” He wove his way closer and studied the door. “You did this?” he asked Ralph, who nodded as he ran a clean rag over it, removing invisible specks of dust. A light of recognition appeared on Scott’s face and he turned to Piper. “Isn’t it a lot like—?”

  “Yes, like the plaque you sent me from Thailand. That was what inspired Ralph.”

  “Wow! I’m honored. Not that I had anything to do with the plaque, of course, other than picking it out.”

  “It was a beautiful gift,” Piper said. “And perfect for my shop.” She continued to be pleasantly surprised by the hints of modesty she was seeing in Scott of late, a trait that had disappeared from the old Scott and one of the reasons their engagement had fizzled. His move from a major city to a small town seemed to be having positive effects, though Piper was still waiting to see if they were permanent.

  Scott had set up a law practice in Cloverdale after resigning as assistant district attorney in Albany and had taken an office a single block away from Piper’s shop. Piper had made clear at the time that she wasn’t available for impromptu lunch dates or any other dates with her ex-fiancé, which had worked for a while. But proximity plus subtle changes in the man, along with Scott’s clear ongoing feelings for her, had been putting a definite pull on her affections, while Will continued to make very strong tugs of his own. It kept her emotions in a swirl, which Piper dearly hoped time would help her settle.

  Scott was dressed for work in a navy suit and tie that Piper remembered from his Albany days. He’d let his dark hair grow a bit longer, she noticed, which allowed a slight wave to form. As an assistant DA he’d kept it clipped much closer, which always seemed a bit severe to her. Piper shook herself at that point. Time to stop thinking about Scott’s hair.

  Scott checked his watch. “Better get going,” he said. “Got a new client coming in.”

  As the new lawyer in town, Scott had been building his practice very slowly, so Piper was pleased for him. “Hope it goes well.”

  “Thanks. Love the door!” he said, then hopped back into his Volvo to drive the final block to his office.

  The rest of the gawkers drifted away as Ralph seemed in no rush for the installation. “Can I get you coffee?” Piper asked.

  “Maybe later,” Ralph said, so Piper left him to his work and went back inside to set up shop. Within minutes, she was pleasantly surprised to see Aunt Judy’s Equinox pull up in front.

  Piper’s white-haired, pleasingly plump aunt climbed out of her car, her attention immediately grabbed by the door. “Isn’t that lovely!” she exclaimed as she gazed at it, careful not to get in Ralph’s way while she took in all the details. “That door is going to be a town landmark,” she said, finally slipping through the doorway and into the shop.” When Ralph laughed, she said, “No, I mean it, Mr. Strawbridge. I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere. You’ll be turning Piper’s shop into a ‘must see’ stop for visitors to Cloverdale.”

  “If they also come in and buy Piper’s pickles, I’ll have done my job.”

  “Well, of course they’ll do that. How could they not?” Aunt Judy said, smiling affectionately at Piper, who came over to give her a hug, gratefully aware that it was in Aunt Judy’s kitchen that Piper had learned all about pickling and preserving in the first place.

  Piper had spent many childhood summers on Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank’s farm, while her archaeologist parents went off to far-flung and kid-unfriendly digs. It was the memory of those happy days along with her aunt and uncle’s presence there that had decided Piper to move to Cloverdale, and though there’d been a couple of bumps in the road—some might call a murder or two major potholes—Piper hadn’t come close to regretting it.

  “I came to town this morning with a few errands to run,” Aunt Judy said. “But before I left home, I heard from Emma Leahy.”

  Her aunt’s face had grown serious. She looked thoughtfully at Ralph working at the doorway and drew Piper into her back room before continuing.

  “Apparently there was a bit of a to-do at Jeremy Porter’s dinner last night.”

  “The Realtors’ dinner that Sugar Heywood was catering?” Aunt Judy’s tone made Piper uneasy.

  Aunt Judy nodded. “Emma’s next-door neighbor’s daughter, Ashley, was working on the waitstaff and caught it all.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ashley said the dinner had gone perfectly. It was held in the Quince Lake Resort’s banquet room, by the way. Everyone raved about the food and they were sending compliments back to the kitchen. When the speeches were over and things were breaking up, Jeremy Porter came back to the kitchen, full of praise for Sugar and what she’d accomplished. Lydia Porter walked back with him, and so did that awful man, Dirk Unger. Do you know Unger?”

  “We’ve met, and I wasn’t charmed.”

  Aunt Judy grimaced, agreeing. “Jeremy was apparently sti
ll in a speech-making mood, and he was going on and on, pretty much crediting Sugar with the success of the entire evening, which Unger didn’t seem to like much. As Ashley put it, he stood there looking as sour as a pickle. Maybe he felt he deserved credit for some part in the dinner planning? I don’t know.”

  “What about Lydia?”

  “Lydia was quiet. Stiffly polite was the impression I got from Ashley. Anyway, Jeremy praised the waitstaff, too, but again threw credit for their well-trained performance back to Sugar. He said something like, ‘How fortunate you all are to have a boss like Mrs. Heywood.’ That’s when Dirk Unger piped up to ask, ‘Mrs.?’”

  “Huh?”

  “That was pretty much Jeremy Porter’s response, and Unger said, ‘Well, it’s always been my impression that a woman needs to have been married—at least once—to be called Mrs. Jeremy Porter looked confused at that but Lydia Porter gasped. Sugar got tears in her eyes and her son, Zach, who’d been helping out, turned purple. He rushed over to Unger shouting in his mother’s defense and looking like he might hit the man until others grabbed and held him back. Unger actually smiled then, like he’d gotten the reaction he wanted. Ashley described it as a grotesque smile.”

  “How awful.”

  “It was. A terrible man, poking his nose into something that was none of his business. But he clearly wanted to stir up trouble for Sugar.”

  “It upset her, obviously. But other than that, what did he hope to accomplish?”

  “My guess is he wanted Sugar out of the picture. That he didn’t want anyone to get in the way of his own influence on Jeremy.”

  “Would Sugar’s history matter that much to Jeremy?”

  “It will matter to Lydia,” Aunt Judy said, “and from what I’ve learned, Lydia will see that it matters to Jeremy.”

  As Piper considered that with raised brows, they heard sounds of customers entering the shop. “I’d better let you go,” Aunt Judy said. “I just thought you should hear the version that came from a reliable source, since you might get variations of the story throughout the day. Plus, if Sugar comes by and seems upset, you’ll understand why.” Aunt Judy slid the strap of her purse back onto her shoulder. “Maybe it won’t turn out as bad as we fear.”