by Vikki Walton
Anne looked up to see Pat standing outside her shop and Spencer standing next to her. He waved and pointed at his new haircut. Since his escapades at the Brandywine Inn, and his part in helping catch a killer, he had become a bit of a town hero. There was a front-page piece on him in the local paper, “Local Boy Saves the Day”, and an article in the Denver Post about foster care and the need for more foster parents. He was now a minor celebrity in town and was milking his fifteen minutes.
Anne glanced at her watch. “I guess we should get over to the hall and set out the food for when everyone arrives back from the graveside.”
“I’ve got everything ready.” She motioned to Spencer, who was wearing a white shirt and black slacks.
“You’re looking mighty spiffy there, Spencer. Thanks for helping out.” Hope squeezed his shoulder.
“I really do feel sorry I couldn’t have saved Marie.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Anne replied.
Kandi chimed in, “You want to, like, ride with me over to the hall?”
“Sure, you know, I really like what you did,” said Spencer.
The pair continued their conversation as they made their way to the truck.
“I think we did the right thing by him.” Hope helped Anne to her car.
Anne lowered herself into the passenger seat. “I agree. I think he’s essentially a good kid and just needed someone to take some interest in him.”
After Anne had pulled her leg into the car, Hope shut the door behind her. She moved around the front of the car and slid behind the driver’s wheel. “Not only is he a good kid. He’s smart too. Have you seen what he’s done with the reservation page on the Inn’s website? Calendar? The pictures?” She started the car. “It’s made a huge difference in how much easier it is to navigate.”
“That’s great. I’ll take a look.” She shifted toward Hope who put the car in reverse. “On another subject, I got a call from Taylor. She’s been to see Liz.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she told me that after Liz had her psychotic break, the DA is recommending incarceration at a secured mental facility.” Anne sighed. “Sad, really. Her victims, her friends . . . everyone will have to live with what she did.”
“On a happier subject, what’s Taylor up to?”
“She is quitting her job.”
“Is that so?” Hope turned on her blinker.
“Yes, she says she’s tired with being around death all the time, she’s ready to be around life for a while.”
“I can certainly understand that.” Anne smoothed down the fabric of her dress. “What’s she going to do?”
“She’s not sure yet but she’s saved up a lot of money, so she’s planning on spending some time out in Comfort.”
“I don’t blame her. I like being in comfort too.”
Hope laughed. “Oh sorry. No, not comfort. It’s a town in Texas. Comfort. Her dad owns a little ranch with a lot of acreage where she keeps her horses. She’s going to take a month or two off and try to figure out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.”
“Well, good for her.” Anne saw lots of cars with people getting out and headed into the hall. “She say anything about Beth or Lil?”
“Lil has gone back to her work at the university and research lab. Beth is selling the big house and is volunteering at a women’s shelter. Her son has returned to college.”
“I’m sure they’ve been affected by everything and it will be a while before they can really come to terms with what happened.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Hope parked the car by a side door.
As Anne emerged from her side, she spied Sheriff Carson. He waved to her and motioned for her to wait for a minute.
“I’ll see you inside.” Hope walked to the side door and, glancing back, gave Anne a quick thumbs-up.
“Ms. Freemont.”
“Are we back to full names, Sheriff?” She squinted up at him.
“I wanted to let you know why I haven’t called. I’ve been busy working a case—”
A woman’s lyrical voice cut through the air. “Carson.”
Anne looked as Sorcha approached and then back up to the Sheriff.
“I see. No worries. To be honest, I’d totally forgotten all about it.”
“But . . . ”
“I’m sure you’re busy. I’m busy too. In fact, I just don’t know when I’ll have any free time.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to go inside and help with the sandwiches.”
“All the best with your . . . case.” She stole a glance toward Sorcha, the woman’s fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders.
Anne wished she could quickly turn her back on the man, but all she could do was limp away and hope she looked halfway decorous.
Inside, she closed the door behind her and stayed in the cool, dark hallway for a minute to collect her thoughts.
I’m not ready for that stuff anyway. What happened was simply due to the situation. Better this way. No way I can compete with Miss Celtic Sophia Loren.
She smoothed down her dress again and walked over to where Hope and Kandi were plating sandwiches. Spencer and Autumn were down by the drinks, handing out cups filled with ice.
“Hello? Hello!” A short, stout woman headed their way.
“I’m Marie’s sister. I want to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I know Marie thought the world of you both.”
Gulp. Anne wondered if Hope also felt a rock in the pit of her stomach.
“Anyway, I have something for you.” She turned around and motioned to a man that mirrored her in size and demeanor. In his hand, he held a box.
He set the box down on the table and opened it up. Inside, cradled with towels was a decanter of Marie’s award-winning elderberry cordial.
The woman pursed her lips and her husband handed her a white handkerchief. She dotted her eyes with it. “There’s only a few of these left, and I know Marie would have wanted you all to have one.”
“You really shouldn’t have,” Anne replied.
“No, I know that’s what she would have wanted. Thank you again.” She sniffled, and her husband led her away.
It wasn’t long before the crowd thinned, and they were left to clear up the hall.
Hope and Anne stared down at the box. Kandi, Spencer, and Autumn joined the pair.
“What is it?” Autumn asked.
“It’s Marie’s cordial.”
Spencer picked it up from the box. “Oh, I’ve heard it’s really, you know, good. You want some?”
“Pass!” Anne and Hope squealed.
From the Author
I hope you enjoyed reading Cordial Killing. Would you mind doing me a big favor and reviewing it on your favorite places on social media or review sites as well as sharing it with your friends?
Are you interested in backyard farming or what I like to call it—suburban homesteading?
https://www.facebook.com/havensteader
You want to know about my other books or connect through Facebook?
https://facebook.com/VikkiWaltonAuthor
Finally, you can contact me directly:
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Writing is a solitary process, but it often involves lots of input from many people. I want to acknowledge a few of them here:
First, a big thanks to future author, Spencer Stepp, who helped guide me in what a young boy might be like and what he would be reading. Unlike the Spencer in my story, he has two loving parents, Steve and Nancy.
Next to my friend, Kris Burgoyne, who introduced me to Roxanne Stark Ross. Roxanne gave me a tour of her Victorian home and her home’s surprising feature, which I had to include in this story.
A thank you to Valerie Blankenship of Sage Women Herbs who helped me talk through the feasibility of deadly tinctures. At least, after I assured her it was for my book.
Of course, a book’s cover and interior are extremely important. Erika Parker Rogers did the wonderf
ul book cover illustration and Melinda Martin pulled it all together once again to make a beautiful cover. The formatting was completed by Rik Hall.
After your eyes blur together from reading the same thing over and over, you realize how important an editor is for catching those gaffs and goofs. Jennifer Bradshaw of Balancing Act Editing made the process so much easier. Any errors are mine—all mine.
Many others helped me along the way and while their names are not written here, they are greatly appreciated.
Finally, dear reader, thank you. I don’t think that readers realize what a blessing they are to authors. You encourage every author to keep writing. Thank you.
