Crêpe Expectations

by Sarah Fox

  “That’s not going to happen.” When she opened her mouth to contradict me, I added, “And even if it does, the tent’s well stocked with extinguishers.”

  To my relief, Chloe smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Marley.”

  “So am I,” Brett said, appearing from behind me and resting an arm across my shoulders.

  From beneath the canopy, Patricia read off names of the next competitors. When she called out Chloe’s name, Brett gave his sister a gentle shove.

  “Go on, Chloe. You can do this,” he said.

  “Since when do you think that?” she asked.

  “Since always.” He gave her a nudge. “Go on.”

  She looked anything but confident, but with a last uncertain glance over her shoulder, she walked toward the tent.

  Chapter 6

  When the next round of competition got under way, I could see the fear on Chloe’s face, even from where I sat on the bleachers. Despite her lack of confidence, however, she didn’t panic. When the whistle blew, she set about preparing her chicken Parmesan with hurried but not frantic movements. I held Brett’s hand as I watched and realized after a few minutes that I had a tight grip on his fingers.

  I loosened my hold. “Sorry about that.”

  He smiled at me. “I’m nervous for her too.”

  “It looks like she’s doing all right.” I hoped that appearance wasn’t deceiving.

  We fell silent, not speaking for the rest of the round. Hope Barron was competing too. She seemed calm and collected, moving around her station with confidence.

  When the whistle blew to end the round and the contestants lined up in front of the judges’ table, I couldn’t help but tighten my grip on Brett’s hand again.

  Chloe was third in line to take her dish to the table. She at least appeared to have finished making her chicken Parmesan. Hopefully she’d remembered all the ingredients. I knew she wouldn’t take it lightly if the judges reacted badly to her dish.

  Brett and I watched in tense silence as the first contestant in line approached the judges’ table. I recognized her from the registration day as Dorothy Kerwin. All three judges tasted her dish—I couldn’t see what it was from my vantage point—and then she picked up her plate and retreated to stand behind her fellow contestants. The next competitor went through the same process before it was Chloe’s turn.

  The judges kept to their routine of not saying a word as they sampled Chloe’s chicken Parmesan. When she’d taken her plate away from the table, the judges spent a moment making notes on their clipboards before turning their attention to the next contestant.

  Soon all the dishes had been sampled, and Chloe came to join us on the bleachers to watch the next two groups of competitors in her division.

  “How do you think it went?” I asked her as she sat down next to me.

  Chloe shrugged. “I didn’t start a fire, and the chicken was cooked. That’s better than I was expecting.”

  “No matter what happens, you did great,” Brett said.

  “Thanks. I doubt I’ll make it through to the next round, but I’m glad I didn’t quit.”

  Once the last round of the competition had ended, it took a few minutes for Patricia to tally all the scores. When she handed a piece of paper to Coach Hannigan, everyone on the bleachers sat up straighter and fell quiet.

  “We’re now ready to announce the names of the contestants who’ve made it through to the next round of competition,” the MC said into the microphone. “Congratulations first to Dorothy Kerwin.”

  As I clapped, I noticed Dorothy’s husband, Willard, sitting below me and to my left. Gone was his bored expression from the week before. Now he was smiling as he applauded enthusiastically.

  “Also moving on to the next round are Hope Barron and Mikey Soldado.”

  Bruce continued to announce several more names, none of which were familiar to me.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe,” I said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

  “That’s all right. I knew I wouldn’t make it to the next round. I’m really not any good at cooking.”

  “I’m proud of you for giving it a go, Chloe,” Brett said. “And I shouldn’t have teased you.”

  “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” Her smile let us know she wasn’t bothered.

  The crowd was slowly dispersing around us. We got up from the bleachers as the judges left their table and headed for the refreshments set out for them.

  “I’m going to talk to Ivan for a moment,” I said, before leaving Brett and Chloe.

  I smiled at Marielle as I approached the refreshments table. I didn’t know her well, but I made regular visits to her bakery for bread and the occasional treat. Ivan was in the midst of filling a mug with coffee from the urn on the table.

  “Thanks again for stepping in to help with the judging,” I said to him.

  He acknowledged my words with a brief nod before taking a sip of coffee.

  “You won’t mind doing it again next weekend?” I asked, hoping for Patricia’s sake that he wouldn’t refuse.

  “I don’t mind,” he said, much to my relief. “It wasn’t so bad. Tell Chloe her chicken Parmesan was good. It’s just that other dishes were better.”

  “She’ll appreciate you saying that.”

  “We should really be getting paid for this,” a man’s voice said from somewhere behind me.

  Ivan’s dark eyes flicked toward a spot over my shoulder, and I turned around to see that the speaker was Quaid Hendrix. He was in conversation with Marielle as they both drank coffee.

  “There’s no room in the budget to pay us,” Marielle said in a pleasant voice. “Besides, I don’t mind volunteering my time.”

  Quaid let out a snort. “But that crud we had to sample! We should be getting hazard pay. I hope no one makes something with coconut next week. I can’t stand the stuff.”

  Marielle frowned, but Quaid didn’t seem to notice. He also didn’t notice that he’d drawn attention from others around him. Along with me and Ivan, several family members of contestants who’d made it through to the next round were nearby. I wasn’t sure if Dorothy Kerwin’s husband had heard Quaid’s comments, but I suspected Logan’s dad, Gerald, and Ellie’s mother, Judith Shaw, had caught his words.

  Fortunately, Quaid didn’t say anything more, instead refilling his coffee mug.

  The competitors who’d made it through to the next round were gathered around Patricia, who was giving them some instructions for the next week. The contestants’ family members hung around, waiting.

  When Patricia finished up, everyone went their separate ways.

  “Good job, Logan,” I said as the teenager passed by me on the way to meet up with his father.

  “Thanks.” He mumbled the word but looked pleased.

  “See you in the morning, Ivan,” I said before going off in search of Brett and Chloe.

  I found them just outside the tent. Chloe was in conversation with Hope Barron, but my attention didn’t stay on them for long. I was too distracted by the fact that Quaid Hendrix was approaching Brett.

  “You’re the gardener out at the Wildwood Inn, right?” Quaid said.

  I hung back so as not to interrupt.

  “In a way,” Brett replied. “I’m doing some landscaping before the opening.”

  “I was a gardener there, back in the day,” Quaid said. “That was a stepping-stone job, of course. I had bigger and better things waiting for me.”

  Brett’s eyebrows shifted up a fraction of an inch, but he gave no other indication that he knew Quaid’s words were meant as an insult.

  Without saying anything more, Quaid strode away, coffee mug still in hand. I watched him go as I moved to stand next to Brett.

  “What a guy,” I said, my voice matching the cold glare I was aiming at Quaid’s retr
eating back.

  Chloe shuddered as she joined us. “Ugh. I can’t stand him.”

  “He insulted Brett,” I told her.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Brett put an arm around my shoulders. “He doesn’t bother me.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” Chloe frowned in Quaid’s direction as he disappeared into the thinning crowd.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Not well but still more than I care to. He lived in Wildwood Cove back when I was in school. He hit on me more than once when I was a teenager and he was in his late twenties. He always creeped me out.”

  A crease appeared between Brett’s eyebrows. “You never mentioned that before.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t like I was the only one. He was always hitting on girls my age.”

  Brett was about to say something when we were all distracted by the approach of Brett and Chloe’s uncle, along with Deputy Mendoza.

  “Chloe,” Ray said after we’d all exchanged greetings, “how are you doing?”

  “You mean since hearing about Demetra? All right, I guess.”

  “Are you able to answer some questions for Deputy Mendoza?”

  Chloe’s gaze shifted back and forth between her uncle and the deputy. “About Demetra?” When her uncle nodded, she asked, “Why can’t you ask me the questions?”

  “We’re related. It would be better for you to talk to Mendoza.”

  “She’s not a suspect, is she?” I asked, unable to keep a note of incredulity out of my voice.

  When Chloe’s eyes widened with fear, I regretted saying anything.

  “We don’t have any suspects at the moment,” Ray said. “We’re talking to everyone who was at the party on the night Demetra was last seen, or at least those we’re able to locate.”

  Some of the fear had left Chloe’s eyes, but she still seemed tense. “Can Brett stay with me?” she asked her uncle.

  “Sure. That’s not a problem.”

  Mendoza moved closer to the empty bleachers, and Brett and Chloe followed her. I hung back, and Ray excused himself, approaching Hope next. Judging by Ray’s demeanor as he spoke with Hope, I figured he was talking to her in an official capacity. Maybe she was part of the same graduating class as Chloe and Demetra.

  I sat down at the end of the lowest tier on the bleachers, several feet away from where Mendoza was questioning Chloe. I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but I could hear the conversation from where I sat.

  “I don’t know what I can tell you that I didn’t say when I was questioned ten years ago,” Chloe said.

  “We just want to go over everything again to be thorough,” Mendoza said. “And to see if you remember anything differently now that we know Demetra’s dead.”

  Chloe rubbed her arms as if chilled, even though the sun was shining down its warmth on us. “I can’t think of anything that I didn’t remember before. Like I said back then, I left the party before Demetra did. Anything I know that happened in the woods after that is secondhand from people who stayed later than I did.”

  “I understand you had a fight with Demetra at the party, a fight that almost became physical.”

  “Demetra was making a show of hitting on my boyfriend.”

  Mendoza consulted her notebook. “Your boyfriend was Justin Archer?”

  “Yes. I know now that Justin wasn’t worth fighting over, but at the time it upset me. And I’m pretty sure that’s what Demetra wanted. I told her to get away from Justin, and she laughed in my face. Then she said something about me being scared of competition because everyone knew who Justin would rather be with. Meaning her, of course.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I left. Justin came after me, but I told him to leave me alone. He hadn’t exactly fended off Demetra’s advances. So he went back to the party and I went home. Whoever said the fight almost got physical was exaggerating.”

  “Is this really relevant?” Brett asked. “Chloe left before Demetra did, by at least an hour, right?” He directed his last question at his sister.

  She nodded. “That’s what everyone else said—that she stayed long after I left.”

  “We just want to make sure we have a full picture of what happened that night,” Deputy Mendoza said. “Do you know where Justin lives now?”

  “I haven’t kept in touch with him. We broke up the day after the party and went our separate ways. A couple of years ago I heard he was living in Vegas, but I don’t know if he’s still there.”

  Mendoza jotted something down in her notebook. “All right. Thank you.”

  “That’s it?” Chloe sounded relieved.

  The deputy nodded. “But if you think of anything else—anything at all that might be significant—please let us know.”

  Mendoza set off to join Ray, who’d wrapped up his conversation with Hope. I got up from my seat and joined Brett and Chloe.

  “Are you okay?” Brett asked his sister, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  “Yes,” she said, but her demeanor was anything but relaxed.

  “Why don’t you come over to our place for dinner?” I suggested. “We’re going to make pizza.”

  Some of the tension eased out of Chloe’s shoulders, and she smiled. “Homemade pizza? I won’t turn down that offer.”

  The three of us fell into step with each other, following Main Street northward, closer to the ocean.

  “Demetra must really have been a piece of work,” I said to Chloe as we walked. “I’ve never known you to even come close to fighting with someone.”

  “I wish I hadn’t let her get to me. That’s exactly what she wanted.” Chloe sighed. “I couldn’t stand her, and yet I feel bad saying that now that I know she’s dead.”

  “It’s terrible that she’s dead, but your feelings toward her are completely understandable,” Brett assured his sister.

  “If someone as easygoing as you had a problem with Demetra, I’m guessing others did too,” I said as we turned right onto Wildwood Road and headed for the edge of town.

  “Oh yeah.” Chloe shook her head. “Even her best friend couldn’t stand her at times.”

  “Sounds like Ray and his deputies will have a long list of suspects to work their way through.”

  “Most likely,” Chloe agreed. “I just hope my name doesn’t end up on that list.”

  Chapter 7

  “That won’t happen,” Brett said to his sister. “There’s no reason you’d be a suspect. You left the party earlier than Demetra and went straight home. Mom and Dad confirmed that ten years ago.”

  “That’s true,” Chloe said. “I guess I can’t help but find this whole situation unsettling.”

  “I can’t blame you,” I said.

  The three of us were walking side by side, but we fell into single file when we heard a vehicle approaching from behind. I expected the dark blue pickup truck to drive on past us, but it slowed to a stop and the driver lowered the window. I didn’t recognize the man behind the wheel, although it quickly became clear that Brett and Chloe did.

  “Hey, Lonny,” Chloe greeted as she approached the truck with her brother. “And Hope,” she added when she got closer.

  When I reached Chloe’s side I spotted Hope sitting in the passenger seat.

  “Hey, guys.” Lonny rested one arm on the window frame.

  “I don’t think you’ve met my girlfriend, Marley.” Brett put an arm around me. “Lonny is Hope’s husband. He works at the garage in town.”

  “Oh, with Zach,” I said.

  “That’s right.” Lonny smiled at me. He was a good-looking man with tousled brown hair and dark eyes.

  “He fixed my car once,” I said.

  “Then it was in good hands. Zach’s the best mechanic around.”

  Hope nudged his arm. “Tied for the best.”
/>   Lonny grinned again, but then his smile faded away. “I guess you’ve all heard about Demetra.”

  “Hard not to,” Brett said. “The whole town’s been talking about the news.”

  “It’s so sad.” Hope leaned over Lonny to get closer to the open window. “After so many years of not hearing a word from her, I figured she was most likely dead, but I never would have thought she was still here in Wildwood Cove. I always guessed she’d run into trouble while hitchhiking her way to Seattle, or somewhere between Seattle and New York.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” Chloe said.

  Everyone fell silent, the only sound around us the rumble of the truck’s engine.

  “Anyway,” Lonny said after a moment, “Hope and I are off to see my folks for dinner, so we’d better get going.”

  “Congratulations on getting through to the next round of the competition,” I said to Hope.

  She smiled, her gray eyes happy. “Thanks. I’m having a lot of fun with it.”

  Brett, Chloe, and I stepped back from the truck and waved as Lonny put it in motion.

  “So they knew Demetra too?” I asked once we’d resumed walking along the grassy verge at the edge of the road.

  “Yes,” Chloe replied. “Hope was in our year at school, and Lonny’s a year older. They’ve been together since Hope was sixteen. I think that’s so sweet.”

  “Were they at the party after your graduation?”

  “Hope was,” Chloe said.

  “Are many of the people who were at the party still here in Wildwood Cove?”

  “Several, right?” Brett said to his sister.

  Chloe nodded. “We weren’t a big group. I think there were maybe a dozen or so of us there when the party started. A couple of people moved to Port Angeles or Port Townsend and there are some who, like me and Hope, went away for a few years before coming back home. My ex Justin left for good, though. So did the Olafson twins. They’re both in California now. But they’re the sweetest girls you’d ever meet so I’m sure they had nothing to do with Demetra’s death.” She bit down on her lower lip. “What’s the chance that she was killed by a stranger?”