Live and Let Chai

by Bree Baker

  Three boxes later, I unearthed a fitted cocktail dress, tags still attached. The heart-shaped neckline and halter top were made of satin to match a thick band at the waist. The glossy black was covered in sets of bright red cherries with thin green stems, and the look was so perfectly vintage I nearly swooned—which was why I’d bought it to begin with. I’d just never had an occasion to wear it.

  I slid the dress over my hips and admired the way the cut made me look like a pinup girl. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel plus-sized; I felt curvy and desirable, like Marilyn Monroe or Betty Boop. All I needed was a cute set of black heels and Grandma’s pearls to pull it together, and I knew where to find those.

  I strutted down the stairs and into the café, prepared to ask Hana and my great aunts what they thought of the dress, but they weren’t alone. Hordes of guests stood in clusters throughout the room, chatting and smiling.

  My heart clenched, and I made a run for the fridge.

  Clara caught me by the wrist and shook her head. “It’s all done, dear. We put everything out as soon as the first couple knocked.” She leaned closer to my ear. “Folks were early and lined up on your porch.”

  “They came early?” I squeezed Aunt Clara’s hand.

  “Hello.” I greeted guests with a broad and genuine smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Waters!” I pulled the older couple into my arms as a group hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

  Mr. Waters straightened his jacket when I released him. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

  His wife smiled brightly. “You’ve done a lovely job here. Everything looks amazing.”

  I winked at my aunts standing arm-in-arm behind the counter. “I had plenty of help, so I’ll try not to take all the credit. I hope you’ll sample a little of everything. Help yourself whenever you’re ready.”

  I shook their hands again and turned to welcome another round of guests.

  Sandy from the ice cream shop paused just inside the doorway.

  “Come in.” I waved, hustling over to meet him. “Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking more at ease when a number of guests called out to him.

  “I’ll let you mingle,” I said. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

  I scanned the bustling café, full of smiling, chatting friends. Then I stopped to take it all in. This was what I’d dreamed of.

  I made another pass at the buffet to be sure nothing was getting cold, or warm. Everything was disappearing fast.

  Hana was positioned behind the counter, moving double-time on refill duty, topping off the bowls and trays as each ran low, while Aunt Fran manned the tea jugs, protecting them against potential poisoners and delivering fresh glasses to anyone who asked. People were eating and drinking.

  I pressed a palm to my grateful heart. A fork clattered onto the floor, and I bent to retrieve it. A slick wolf whistle sounded behind me, and I turned to tell the culprit what I thought of it.

  Detective Hays smiled back at me, only a foot away. His impish grin told me he knew exactly the sort of response to expect.

  I forgave him immediately. He didn’t just come to my party, he’d dressed for it. The simple black slacks and tie were perfectly understated. The cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt had been rolled to the elbows, exposing ropes of tan muscle in his forearms and making him look completely at ease.

  Meanwhile, I felt a bit faint. “Detective Hays,” I greeted, offering my hand.

  He gave my palm a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s probably time you called me Grady.”

  “Grady,” I echoed, trying the name out on my lips.

  He held my stare and my hand several moments longer than manners required. Then he let his soft gaze tour my body head to toe. “You sure clean up nice.”

  “Back at ya,” I said, fighting a fierce blush and interlacing my fingers in front of me when he released my hand. “Are you here alone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Business or pleasure?” I asked, feeling a little saucy. I blamed the dress.

  “A little of both, I guess. I didn’t want to miss your party, and given the day you had yesterday, I thought you might need a little emotional support. Clearly you don’t.”

  I tipped my head toward Hana and the aunts. “I had a crew helping with the labor today. My emotional state is a whole other story.”

  He smiled back, flashing that dimple. “Are you happy?”

  “Right now? Absolutely.” I leaned in close, getting a delicious whiff of his cologne, and rose on my toes to whisper in his ear: “People are eating my food. They don’t think it will kill them.”

  Grady laughed. “I’m glad, and I’m sorry I put that idea into anyone’s head.”

  I stepped back. “Did you also know the Town Charmer claims that I am no longer on the suspect list?”

  He gave me a wide grin. “I do.”

  “Any idea who leaked that information?”

  His smile widened.

  “You?” I asked, suddenly breathless. “So it’s true?”

  “After careful investigation,” he said, “I’ve been unable to find any evidence suggesting that you had the intention, access, or ability to poison your tea for Mr. Paine in the way in which it was poisoned.”

  “You believe me.” I grinned. I resisted the urge to say I told you so.

  “Detective Hays?” A man with lobster-red skin and a deep scowl hobbled toward us.

  “Mr. Coster. Nice to see you. How’s the sunburn?”

  “Hurts. I learned my lesson, though. Next time I go boating, I’ll take sunscreen.” His enchanting British accent stole the edge from his words.

  “The sunburn won’t last long,” Grady said. “If you’re hurting, then you’ve got to try to stay out of the sun while it heals.”

  “Yeah.” The man nodded. “I wore my rain gear all day to keep the sun off my burns. Hot as Hades in long sleeves.”

  Grady smiled at me. “Mr. Coster moved here from Dorset last week. We met at the ice cream stand on Main.”

  “Ah.” I smiled at the newcomer. “It’s rainy there, I hear.”

  He huffed. “You don’t know the half of it.” Mr. Coster nodded at Grady. “While I’ve got your attention, I’d like to file a report,” he said.

  “Why?” Grady frowned. “What happened?”

  “I was threatened earlier, and I’d like it noted in case it happens again. You never know with these things.”

  Grady crossed his arms. “Were you harmed in any way? I can take you to the station now, or we can meet there in the morning. Was it someone at this party?” He cast a questioning look in my direction and I shrugged.

  “No.” Mr. Coster shook his head. “It was earlier. I was too miserable to rest, so I tried to borrow something to read from one of those Little Libraries on the boardwalk.”

  “And?” he asked, folding his arms in irritation.

  Uh oh. I gave Mr. Coster a closer look. Add some rain gear…

  “And?” Mr. Coster snapped. “I had my eye on a historical romance, but some lunatic chased me with a shovel, yelling, ‘Put that down!’ I was nearly killed! Over what?” he squawked. “There’s nothing wrong with men reading romance is there?”

  Grady shot me an amused look.

  I ducked out of the way.

  “She had a hat about this big,” Mr. Coster said. He mimed the size of my hat with both arms above his head.

  I went to toss Mr. Waters’s clamming shovel in the closet before I wound up on the town’s list of homicidal maniacs again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My café had reached max capacity by seven, and I hadn’t stopped smiling for at least an hour. Grady ducked out early with a polite goodbye, leaving me to breathe a little easier. He made me nervous in all sorts of ways I
preferred not to think about. By eight, I was sure I’d spoken with everyone in town. Folks would float in for a bit, then venture out as another round of guests arrived. I had a police detective and a mystery blogger to thank for the positive turn of my fate.

  I plucked a date stuffed with Hana’s goat cheese off the buffet and tapped my foot to an old Beach Boys song. Aunt Clara moved to my side and twined her arm with mine. “I’d call this shindig a whopping success, wouldn’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” I scanned the crowd, searching for empty plates or glasses to refill and any new arrivals I hadn’t greeted yet.

  My eyes landed on Sam Smart, visible between a pair of women with oversized handbags. He was seated at the corner table, handing out business cards. I hadn’t seen him come in, but I wouldn’t let him leave without asking him a few questions.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Aunt Clara.

  I nudged my way around the crush of bodies in the tightly packed room and tried not to question the structural integrity of my home’s historic support beams.

  I helped myself to the empty seat next to Sam as the music changed. “Hello.” I forced a bright smile. “I’m glad you could make it. Are you enjoying the party?”

  He lifted his tea glass with a strained smile. “Very much.”

  Tension rolled off him in waves. Had it been there before I’d arrived, or had I triggered it? It was hard to tell with Sam. He always seemed to be some degree of tense. Until recently, I’d assumed that was just his personality; now I didn’t know.

  Being accused of murder had opened my eyes in the worst of ways. If a detective, who dealt with criminals for a living, believed I could be a killer, then clearly anyone could be.

  Sam scanned the room, determined to avoid eye contact. I tried to recall all the possible meanings behind his behavior, but the body-language book had been somewhat indeterminate on avoiding eye contact. One page suggested a person who wouldn’t look you in the eyes was nervous, possibly hiding something, while the next page said the person might harbor a romantic interest and want to hide it. I didn’t think romantic interest was the problem with Sam, but something was definitely going on. He’d looked me in the eye plenty of times before. “Am I making you nervous?”

  His gaze snapped back to me. “No. Why?”

  I folded my hands on top of the table. “You seem uncomfortable. Like when I stopped by your office a couple days ago. If it’s something I’ve done, I’m really sorry. I’ve had a rough week.”

  “It’s not you,” he said. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. You understand.” Sam checked his watch, his bouncing knee vibrating the table.

  I might not have made him nervous, but something certainly had. “You know, I’d love to talk with you more,” I said, offering up a warm smile. “How about lunch tomorrow?”

  Sam wet his lips and cleared his throat, appearing to be suddenly rapt with interest. He leaned forward in his seat. “Are you having any luck with that thing you mentioned before? The one you were looking into?”

  “I think so.” I held back the part where I’d apparently gained the killer’s attention but didn’t know who he was, so now the lunatic was following me around making threats while I tried to keep the tail of my skirt out of my underpants. I matched his posture, leaning my elbows on the table. “Have you thought of something more to tell me?”

  “Did you talk to Lucinda?” The words were barely audible over a group of women belting “Good Day Sunshine.”

  “I did,” I said. “And did you know Mr. Paine was also in a verbal tussle with Mr. Metz over the colonial on Bay View?” I lifted my brows and waited for his response.

  He sat back, putting distance between us and breaking the intimate bond of co-conspirators. “I had heard that, yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve talked to him sooner.”

  He didn’t answer.

  I pushed further. “Is Mr. Metz a friend of yours? Is he a client?”

  Sam’s phone buzzed on the table; he turned it over and peeked at the screen. “I’m sorry, I need to get going. I have another appointment tonight.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Just a few more questions.”

  The lines on his forehead deepened. “Lunch tomorrow, okay? Stop by my office.” He stood and tucked his abandoned chair beneath the table. “Thanks for the tea and hospitality. I appreciate it.”

  Before I could respond, he’d strode out the door.

  “See you tomorrow,” I muttered to the empty threshold.

  I made my way back to Aunt Clara in time to see her finish dancing The Freddie near my deck. The crowd had thinned out. “I guess this party is winding down.”

  She nearly fell into me, beaming with a goofy smile. “People don’t dance enough anymore.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d danced, in public anyway. My shower and bedroom were another story.

  “It was such a nice turnout,” Clara said. “Even better than I expected.”

  Hana pulled empty trays from the buffet. “Yes, and that’s it for the sausage balls and cheese straws.” She loaded the platters into my dishwasher, then wiped the counter. “Either your food was an incredible hit, or you invited some very hungry people.”

  I laughed. “Hopefully the first one.”

  Aunt Fran rocked one antique tea dispenser onto its side and emptied the dregs into the garbage can. “This one is cashed. Old-Fashioned Sun Tea was the clear hit of the night.”

  Warmth pooled in my chest and my spirits lifted impossibly higher. “This party was your best idea ever.” I patted Aunt Clara’s hand and smiled at Aunt Fran. “Thank you.”

  The last sprinkling of guests drifted toward the door.

  “Thank you all for coming,” I said, hurrying to see them off. “Come back anytime. There are still a few things on the buffet and I’d be happy to box something up for you.”

  They politely refused doggie bags, waving as they stepped out into the night. Mr. Waters and his wife were the last ones to the door.

  “Mr. Waters!” I caught him by the sleeve. “Hang on. I want to send your shovel home so I don’t forget it.” I dashed to the pantry and back. “There you are. Thank you so much for letting me borrow a piece of your history for the night.” I smiled, and his wife looked at the shovel and blushed.

  Mr. Waters shook my hand. “Anytime. You know, we’d stay and help clean up, but it looks like you’ve got a nice crew here already, and we’re running late.”

  His wife adjusted her little blue hat, the peacock plume in its band swaying back and forth. “Everything was delicious,” she said. “Folks would’ve taken you up on the offer for leftovers if they were going home. Don’t take it personally.”

  My gaze traveled from Mr. and Mrs. Waters to the mass of locals trailing down my front steps. “They aren’t going home? Is something else happening tonight?” I strained to think of what it might be. The street fair wasn’t for another two days.

  “Sure,” Mr. Waters said. “Lucinda’s thing started at eight. A party to celebrate Benedict’s life. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. She’s been telling folks to spread the word.”

  I shook my head. “No.” No one had told me much of anything lately.

  “Well,” he said, motioning to the café behind me. “You’ve been busy.”

  I doubted my busyness was the reason no one in town had told me.

  His wife leaned against his side and grinned. “She says this party is about Benedict, but we all know she’s just announcing her return to Charm.”

  “Kind of like she’s throwing her own welcome back party,” Mr. Waters said with an amused shake of his head. “But she’s calling it a celebration of Benedict’s life, so who can say no to that?”

  The box truck and man in white coveralls blinked into mind. Modern Elegance wasn’t a new furnitur
e deliverer as I’d imagined, it was a party rental company.

  I shot a look at my aunts, who suddenly seemed to be wholly absorbed in their cleanup and pointedly avoiding my gaze.

  Mr. Waters held the door open for his wife. “Maybe we’ll see you there, huh?”

  “Maybe,” I whispered, a fuzzy idea taking form in my curious mind. I really shouldn’t press my luck and risk that restraining order. But the town had been on its best behavior here in my café, and maybe this was the perfect opportunity to make up with Lucinda. Maybe even make some progress on my fresh start now that there were no strikes against me.

  I locked the door, then turned to my aunts and Hana. “I’m not going to ask why you didn’t tell me about Lucinda Paine’s party,” I said. “So you can all stop trying not to look directly at me.”

  Clara lifted a timid face in my direction. “You’re not mad?”

  “Nope.” I went behind the counter to evaluate the leftover situation and see if there was anything left fit to take to a party.

  An uncut lemon cake was still in the fridge. “Perfect.” I grabbed my purse and a sweater from the hall closet, returning for the cake. “I’d tell you to just leave this and go home to rest, but I know better. If I’m not back before you go, don’t forget to lock up.” I kissed my aunts’ cheeks and hugged Hana tight, then I gave the trio a meaningful stare. “You know, I’m really glad I’m back home.”

  “Us too,” Clara cooed. “We know where you’re going, so be careful out there. This hasn’t been your week.”

  I blew an air kiss on my way into the night. “Preach.”

  I stepped onto the boardwalk, cake in hand. Nerves twisted and pinched in my gut and a cool sweat broke over my chest and forehead. I didn’t want a restraining order, but I also didn’t like having an enemy in Lucinda. At least Grady had dropped me as a suspect. That should give me a little cushion if Lucinda didn’t respond well to my appearance at her place. And worst-case scenario, I wouldn’t be legally permitted within a certain distance of her, which I doubted would change my life. Once I proved I didn’t hurt her ex-husband, she’d surely lift any restraining order, anyway.