by Sarah Kelly
Xavier’s eyes were bright. “With magic, anything is possible.”
“I’m not so sure, babe,” she said, ever more the cynic than him. “It can do pretty cool stuff, but not anything. At least, you have to be in like your one hundredth lifetime to get to that level. That used to annoy me that you have to wait that long, but I think I get it now. Luis said giving all that power to someone new like us would be like making a tiny little baby President.”
Xavier laughed. “Aww.”
“Cute, right?” India flashed a smile. “Imagine the addresses to the nation. This little baby rattling a toy and giggling and drooling and everyone nodding like ‘hmm, hmm, I like her policies’.”
“You’re crazy,” Xavier said affectionately, squeezing her hand. “But yeah, I guess that all makes sense. Like you kind of have to learn to handle all that power. I think a lot of people would go on a crazy power trip if you got given powers all at once. The worst side of people would come out.”
India nodded. “I think so, too.”
Xavier stopped in the snow. “Did you hear that?” he said, frowning.
“What?” India asked. She came to a stop beside him.
“Listen.”
Sure enough, India could hear something. It was only eight thirty in the morning, a time when Abingdon Fork was usually rather quiet. But there was someone hollering in the distance. A man’s voice, India was sure of it, but too far away to make out what he was saying. She looked at Xavier, shrugging. “Maybe just a domestic?”
“Maybe.” But he still looked concerned. “It’s in the direction of the florist’s anyways, as far as I can make out. Maybe we’ll find out something as we get closer.”
India nodded and started to walk on. “Probably.”
It was not far to go, and as they turned the corner at the end of the street, the florists came into view in the distance. A sandy-haired man was yelling at the top of his lungs, and launched what India supposed was a rock at the store. The glass smashed clean through, then shattered into little pieces, which scattered over the snow.
“Horatio!” India said, and she and Xavier began to run towards him.
“You killed my mother!” Horatio screamed. “It was you, wasn’t it? Just turn yourself in, if you’re a real man. You won’t get away with it forever! Murderer!”
As they approached, India could see he was intoxicated. His eyes were blotched and red rimmed, he smelled like he hadn’t washed since his mother had died, and he reeked of some kind of spirit liquor she couldn’t exactly put her finger on.
“Horatio,” Xavier said in his best authoritative cop voice. “You need to calm down.”
India peered into the store to see Julian Sawyer peeking out from behind the counter, his eyes wide open with terror.
“I can see you’re real angry right now,” Xavier said, approaching him like one would a wild animal. “But if you have any grievances against this man you’ll have to take it to the Sheriff, not into your own hands.”
“I’ve rung Sheriff Rhodes already!” Julian shouted with a shaky voice. “He’s on his way to take this poor deluded soul out of here.”
“I’m not deluded!” Horatio yelled, and launched himself toward the store door.
Xavier intercepted him and caught him by the shoulders. He spoke in a very calm voice. “All right, Horatio, all right. We’ll sort this all out. Everything will work out in the end. Don’t you worry now, Horatio.”
As India looked over, Horatio really did seem to be calming down. He let Xavier maneuver him away from the storefront, and they spoke in low voices. India opened the door to the florists and picked her way across the floor between the shards of glass towards the counter.
Julian rose up from his place, his cheeks flushed red. “Goodness gracious,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “What an adventure.”
India returned his smile. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“And you needn’t worry for a moment about your flowers. They’re all tucked up in back, safe and sound. Once this problem child is out the way, we’ll go and get them out, and you can take the ones you need for getting dressed. Jan will still deliver to St Andrew’s.”
India actually breathed a sigh of relief. “Mr Sawyer, you’re a life saver.”
He crinkled his nose. “Mr Sawyer is my father, or a stiff businessman of some sort. Please, address me as Julian.”
It didn’t take long for Sheriff Rhodes to appear, swaggering out of his patrol car like a graying movie star. He patted Xavier on the back and said, “Well done, son,” tipped his hat to India and Julian, then led Horatio to the car, talking in his soothing, low voice all the while.
“Any leads on who might have done it?” Julian said, leaning on his doorframe and trying not to step on shards of glass.
The Sheriff shook his head as he thrust the car into gear. “We’re doing what we can, sir. You’ll be sure to hear about it if anything comes up.” He nodded towards the display window, which now consisted of a few sharp shards sticking up from the window frame like a jagged mountain range. “You wanna press charges for that?”
“Oh, no,” Julian said. “I can’t be doing with all the fuss.”
“All right. Well, call me if you need anything.” And then he was gone.
Soon India was in the back room, Xavier standing just outside the door. She didn’t want him to see the bouquet until she glided toward him down the aisle. Julian had placed a veil over it for dramatic effect, and he peeled it back slowly, his eyes locked onto hers. “And…”
“Oh, wow.” It was exquisite. Rather than something too rounded and neat, he’d gone for a trailing, artistic look. White roses made up the central piece, while a cascade of tiny white flowers and green leaves fell gently down like blossoms. Silver detailing was strewn through in curling straw. But what set it all off perfectly was something India would never have picked herself – three stunningly black lilies, shining in a deep purple-indigo in the light. They nestled among the white and green, imperious, knowing they were the stars of the show. India was so overcome seeing it that she flung her arms around Julian for a moment.
“I’ll take that as meaning you’re a satisfied customer,” he said, grinning. “Though you mustn’t thank me, mademoiselle-soon-to-be-madame. It is the muse. The beauty of your love has been the spirit with which this has been crafted. I am simply the arranging fingers. A mere servant.”
“Whatever you are, you’re fantastic.”
“Do you like it, In?” Xavier called from outside.
“No,” India said. “I absolutely love it.”
“I’ll just pack it up neatly for you,” Julian said. “And the piece for the fascinator and the lapel decoration in separate boxes.”
“Julian, you’re a superstar.”
After Julian packed up the flowers, with neat little handles to make them easy to carry, India paid on her credit card, and she and Xavier began to walk back to the bakery. Xavier was to stay there for the night, but India was heading to her parents’ house to sleep overnight before the wedding. She needed to pick up her makeup and some other bits and bobs from her room at the bakery.
When they turned the corner past the hardware store, raven-headed Yasmin almost bumped into them, coming the other way. She was all bundled up against the snow but still somehow pulling off her effortless chic. “Oh, hello,” she said, not entirely pleased.
“Are you looking for Horatio?” India asked. “He’s just been—”
“I don’t care what or where he’s been,” Yasmin snapped. Then she sighed, her blue eyes softening. “Sorry. We’re not on good terms.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” India was very curious to know what Yasmin’s take was on the whole drama. “It was your father who saw Elise coming out of Mariette’s, wasn’t it?” She knew the question was rather abrupt, but she felt that Yasmin was the kind of person who preferred people getting to the point rather than dancing all around it. “Did you see anything?”
&nb
sp; “No, I did not. And I think my father might have been mistaken.”
“Why do you say that?” Xavier asked.
“I did see Elise,” she said, stamping her feet to keep the cold away. “But it’s a long… Oh, man, it’s just too cold out here. I’ve gotta go.”
“Yes, you’re right,” India said quickly. “Why don’t we go to Sarah’s Bakery to talk?” She watched the doubt cloud Yasmin’s face. “We’ll buy you something nice.”
Yasmin rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to buy me anything. But I’ll come. I could use a hot drink and something sweet.” She shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “You know how life is.”
***
Yasmin sipped on her mocha. “Elise was there earlier than it happened. Jeffrey, that’s my cousin, the deputy sheriff, he told me it happened around 3pm, because that’s the time Mariette’s watch got smashed when she fell. It stopped, you see. But I saw Elise come out about half past two, so it wouldn’t make sense her doing it.”
“And you didn’t see anyone else?” Xavier asked.
“Nah. I was sketching at my windowseat for ages, and the slightest movement would catch my eye.” She looked at India. “I only actually moved when I saw you and a lady… your mom, I’m guessing… arrive. And no one else came out.”
India shook his head. “That’s so weird.”
“I still don’t think she did it, though,” Yasmin said. “At least, probably not. Anyways, they’re releasing her, Jeffrey tells me. You must be happy about that.”
“Yes,” said Xavier. “Both because we’re sure she’s innocent, and because we wouldn’t have the first clue about our own wedding without her.”
“But we really wanted to try and find out who killed Mariette before the wedding,” India said, then sipped her chai spiced tea. “So it isn’t hanging over the town.”
Yasmin leant back in her chair and drew up her upper lip. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother. Just focus on yourselves. That woman was just… awful. Disgusting, really, the way she treated her own son.”
India nodded. “Yes but that still didn’t mean she deserved to—”
“Look,” Yasmin said, so forcefully that Sarah looked over her shoulder from where she was piping chocolate sauce into donuts. “I’ll be real with you. Anyone who had a bit of sense in their head hated her. She didn’t have one redeeming quality. Not a single one. All she cared about was herself, and about looking posh. You know her real name’s not Mariette, right? It’s Shirley. Well, she changed it legally just before Horatio was born. Her real last name isn’t Fairfax, it’s Thomas.”
“Yes, her mother’s Lillian Thomas,” India said.
“Oh.” Yasmin leant back again, the wind taken out of her sails a bit. “Well, you could have told me you knew. Anyways, if I were you, I would stay well out of it. She had plenty of skeletons in her closet, and your best bet is not to get involved.” With that, she gulped down the rest of her latte and pulled her black coat and hat on. “Bye, Sarah,” she said, quite brightly. Her “Bye,” to India and Xavier was much colder.
India flashed her eyes at Xavier and sipped her tea. “She’s hiding something,” she whispered.
“Don’t mind her,” Sarah said cheerfully. She was in much better spirits that day. “She’s always had a knack for dramatic flair.” The Christmas music warmed the room as she turned it up a little louder.
Xavier drained his coffee. “I don’t know about her hiding something, but I think we’re so close to the wedding now her advice is pretty spot on. I’m going to go upstairs and work on something.”
“On what?” India said with a smile.
He got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, nothing, In.” But the excited sparkle in his eye told her differently.
A slow grin crept across her face. “Is it a surprise?”
“Can’t tell you,” he said, disappearing through the door that led to the stairs.
Once he was gone, Sarah turned to her. “Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t stop for any breakfast this morning.”
India meandered over to the counter with her own cup, and Xavier’s. She then went back for Yasmin’s. “I don’t know where my appetite’s gone,” she said. “I’ve got all these butterflies in my stomach.”
“Wedding jitters,” Sarah said with a knowing smile. “That tea you’ve just had won’t help, all that caffeine zipping about inside you. Why don’t you have a nice bowl of soup and a bread roll? I’ve just cooked up some creamy onion soup.”
“Ooh yes,” India said. “I’d love that.”
Sarah ladeled some steaming soup into a bowl, and placed a bread roll on a plate. India sat up on higher chairs at the other side of the counter and took a spoon. Soup was about the only thing she could stomach right then.
“I was going to get married once, you know,” Sarah said as she fussed around organizing tea and coffee supplies.
“Oh, right. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
Sarah shrugged. “Everything just went wrong. And I mean everything. But that was to be expected. I didn’t come from a happy family. I was happy with Rowan. And I think they were so jealous they had to sabotage it. I was too weak to stop them. I even lost my child over it.”
India gasped. “How horrible for you. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I moved so far away,” Sarah said, trying to sound stoic. “But…” She looked up at India, seemingly trying to gauge if she could trust her. She sighed. “It does get lonely sometimes.”
“I can imagine.” India took a mouthful of soup now that it wasn’t so piping hot. “Your soup is delicious, Sarah.”
Sarah flashed a sad smile. “Thanks. Cooking and baking is about the only thing I’m good at. And that’s not worth much.”
“Oh, I don’t think so at all!” India said. “I think it’s worth everything. I mean, all of us have to eat every single day, don’t we? And people come here for comfort, and to unwind from life. It’s very…” – she searched for the right word – “… nurturing, this place. I think you should be proud.”
Sarah ducked her head and pressed her fingers against her eyes, like she was trying to keep from crying. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” she whispered. “Do you really think so?”
India held her head high. “Absolutely. And with the rooms you’ve got upstairs, too? I’d say you were doing a fantastic job. Xavier and I will definitely come here and stay again. You’ve made us feel so welcome.”
“Oh India,” Sarah said, getting up and pouring herself a cup of hot water, then wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “You are such a kind person.”
India thought as she savored another spoonful of soup. Once she’d swallowed she said, “I think you’re a great deal kinder than me, Sarah. You’re a born nurturer. Maybe you’ll have kids someday. I think you’d make the best mom in the world.”
Sarah burst into tears.
India considered rushing over to console her, but somehow got the sense Sarah wouldn’t need or want that.
Sarah soon wiped her eyes and looked straight at India. “You have no idea how much that means to me. Whatever happens in the future, whether you come here again or not, I will always remember you. Just for saying that simple sentence. Until my dying day, I’ll remember this very moment. I can assure you of that.”
CHAPTER 8
“You know, Elise, I was arrested too,” Amy said, dishing up the spaghetti bolognese, one of India’s winter favorites. She tossed a thumb at Xavier. “By this evil guy.”
“No way!” Elise said. She dropped the piece of garlic bread in her hand on her side plate and looked between them, slack jawed. “Really?”
“I’m afraid so,” Amy said mournfully. “And the jail in Benton Point isn’t nice like the one in Abingdon Fork. It’s super hot with no air conditioning, and they give you disgusting, gone-off food, and I even saw a rat—”
Elise’s eyes were getting wider and wider as she drank it all in.
“Thank you very much, Amy,”
Xavier said, “for that wonderful, wildly fictitious story. Elise, the jail in Benton Point police station is actually very nice. It’s just a couple of well-air conditioned clean cells. And we had to arrest her, regrettably, because she’d handed the murder victim Onyx a drink of champagne just before she died of poisoning. It wasn’t Amy, though, of course, it was Onyx’s—”
“Manager. I read it online.” Elise had picked up her piece of garlic bread as he spoke but then dropped it all over again. “Wait, you guys solved the Onyx case?”
Xavier smiled proudly. “India did most of it.”
“Oh no,” India said modestly. “It was a team effort.”
Amy swept over to the table with two full bowls of spaghetti bolognese, then returned to the cooker and brought back two more. “Here we go, guys.”
“It smells incredible,” India said. “As usual.” She turned to Elise. “This woman is superwoman when it comes to cooking, baking, whatever. Just get her in the kitchen and she’ll whip up some real magic.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m a misogynist pig’s dream. Barefoot, in the kitchen.” She twizzled her fork to pick up spaghetti. “If I was pregnant, I’d be the whole package.”
India was in a playful mood and threw a little piece of garlic bread at her. “Oh cheer up, grouchy. You’d slap the misogyny out of just about anyone, girl.”
Amy pretended to be outraged when the garlic bread hit her, then shrugged, picked it up off the table and popped it into her mouth. “You’re right. I would.”
“This is totally delicious,” Elise said, closing her eyes appreciatively. “It completely sucks I was in that cell for so long. Otherwise I’d have been round here ages ago making sure everything is perfect.”
Amy shrugged. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve done plenty of catering before. And since India has been my slightly annoying and far too sensible best friend since like forever, I know I have to give her the best of the best.”
Elise grinned. “Sounds good. Thankfully the buffet style means we don’t have to do all that menu printing stuff. So really all we need to talk about is getting everything to India’s parents’ home on time and warming arrangements and where it will all be placed, stuff like that.” She wagged her fork at India and Xavier. “And I don’t want you guys here. You’re supposed to be all starry eyed and dreaming of your honeymoon, not worrying about potato temperatures and dishwashing.” Everyone laughed. “I don’t think we’ll be long,” she continued. “A half hour maybe? So I could still give you a ride back to Abingdon Fork. Wait, India, are you even going back?”
