Chapter 3
The Festivities
Brenda checked in with the kitchen in mid-afternoon. Dinner would be served an hour earlier to accommodate anyone who wanted to enjoy the Fiddlers Jamboree. So far, Mason Eads was the only guest who showed no interest in attending. Brenda still fretted about the work to be done at the bed and breakfast before the jamboree and hurried to complete her routine tasks. Out the window, she glimpsed the Cabots sitting at the edge of the property, and she wondered once again what made them so solitary. However, she quickly immersed herself in work that needed doing and forgot them.
Mattie and Drake Cabot sat on the lower end of the seawall and watched the seagulls and boaters on the glistening waters.
“We have to bring our plans to fruition, Mattie. Everything must go perfectly, or we will never fully recover.” Drake kicked his flip-flops off and wiggled his toes.
“I know, Drake. Nothing will go wrong. Everyone is ready, and things will go without a hitch as usual.” Mattie always expected calm, smooth sailing when it came to their goals. Each felt the sting of losing to the man they had once believed in. Their aim early on had been to work hard for a few years and spend most of their remaining lives in luxury. That didn’t happen, and plans had to be revamped. The couple slowly recovered but work remained to be done if they wanted to get back on track. Mattie kicked her sandals off and moved pebbles in the sand back and forth with her toes. “As soon as this little mission is completed, we should have more time for leisure,” she said. “I think this coast is beautiful, don’t you, Drake?”
“It is one of the most peaceful places we’ve ever come to. I’ve been wishing we could stay around here forever or maybe choose somewhere similar. There’s something about salt air that rejuvenates the body and soul.” They discussed the families strolling on the sand below them and voiced opinions of the jobs some must have left to enjoy such a picturesque scene. Drake mentioned he was sure most had means and pointed out a couple without children. “They’re probably in banking or financial business of some kind. Do you see that beach bag she keeps digging into? I’ll bet only high-tech stuff is in it.”
“They are interesting to watch,” Mattie said, watching carefully. She picked up her sandals and brushed the sand from her feet. “Let’s go into town and see what’s going on. There are plenty of people in Sweetfern Harbor we could be watching. They may be more interesting than the ones down here.”
Drake ruffled her short curly hair. “And here I thought you came here for the Fiddlers Jamboree.”
“You’re right. I’m hoping to pick up a good-looking fiddler down there tonight.”
At six, everyone gathered for dinner at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. Mac easily drew them into conversation.
“What do you do besides run this bed and breakfast, Mac?” Alan Haas asked his host. “I know you work somewhere else, from what I understand.”
At first, Mac was taken aback. He presumed the guests knew his occupation. “I’m actually a detective for the local police department,” he said. Mattie’s fork clanked on her plate awkwardly at that moment. The priest eyed her as if to admonish her for the disturbance and Mattie murmured an apology. Mac brushed over the moment, continuing, “I have been a police officer all my life and was promoted to lead detective a few years ago. Brenda is actually the brains behind the running of the bed and breakfast,” he said with a warm smile at his wife.
“From what I’ve seen around town, you have a good police force here,” Alan said. “I’ve run in to a few cops who are for crowd control, I suppose. They’ve all been very friendly.” He laughed nervously as if to cover for the awkward feeling in the room. Brenda felt it was very odd, but Mac did not seem to notice.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Mac said. “Our town is usually a rather sleepy one until we have big events. Then it grows considerably in population. William Pendleton, our friend and a prominent citizen, is responsible for bringing in quality entertainment and regional events and other things like that to town. Our local businesses have benefitted from his work as a result.”
Conversation turned to the Queen Anne mansion. Sara was interested in its history. Brenda told them how it had passed through several different families over the last century or more. “My uncle, Randolph Sheffield, was in theatre. He came here to act in a local performance meant to recruit local talent to audition and join the stage profession. When he saw this place, it was abandoned and in disrepair. He had already decided to retire from his acting career and go into something less stressful than traveling around performing, and this huge house was the perfect project for him. He bought it and spent several years restoring it.”
“It is beautiful,” Thomas said. “I would have liked to see what it was like before he restored it.”
“There are several albums of before-and-after pictures you can thumb through in the sitting room,” Brenda said. “In the open bookcase near the windows, help yourself. Uncle Randolph was adamant about restoring its original architecture, down to the smallest detail. Some owners had added too many modern touches or covered up the original gingerbread detailing as they remodeled, and he took all that out so its glory could shine. You will see the evolution in the albums.” When asked, Brenda told them her uncle left the bed and breakfast to her in his will. She spoke about how she hoped to continue his dream for many years.
Jake glanced at his watch. “I don’t wish to interrupt, but if everyone will excuse me, I must get ready. I am expected at the park early. Wish me luck.”
Everyone did, except Mason. “I would say have a good performance, but that’s probably not possible if all you’re doing is playing the fiddle.”
This time no one commented, and all chose to ignore the surly young surfer. Mac immediately picked up the slackened conversation and asked Alan and Sara how they were coming along finding marketing opportunities for their new business.
“We clinched two today,” Alan said. “That’s a good beginning. This town is the perfect setting for products such as ours. We have a special line of skincare meant for salt air climates, so our products may be good for tourists and locals.” He mentioned the proprietor of Jenny’s Blossoms had asked to see samples. “We know she sells flowers and florist supplies to enhance them, but she is interested in purchasing a small amount to set up a counter display. I believe she mentioned impulse-buy items.”
“Jenny is our daughter,” Brenda said. “I’m not surprised she has new ideas to bring more business to her shop. She’s good at thinking ahead. I hope it works out for all of you.”
Morgan and her helpers began taking dessert trays to the sitting room. They left one on the sideboard in the dining room, though all chose to walk through the archway into the spacious and comfortable adjoining room. Mattie and Drake Cabot only stayed long enough to eat their sweets and then left the room. Mason Eads followed behind them outside. The last Brenda saw of them was when Drake turned around and scowled at the pesky surfer. Mason then turned opposite the path the couple took, strolling toward the gardens along the seawall instead of toward the beach where the couple seemed to have been headed. Fifteen minutes later, the Cabots returned and went to their room. The rest of the guests did the same to freshen up. They wanted to get downtown quickly to join the festival at the park. Brenda and Mac went to their cottage and both were happy to have time together to celebrate with everyone else. “Do you think Jake will win?” Brenda asked.
Mac pulled her close. “I hope for your sake, Brenda, that he does. I admit he is very good, though I don’t know a lot about music. It’s obvious that his grandfather passed his abilities down to Jake, from what we heard. Are you ready to go?” Brenda straightened her sky-blue dress and donned a light jacket to keep warm against the evening chill, and then they were ready to depart.
They decided to walk downtown, where they were to meet Phyllis and William at the south side of the park. The spot was close to the edge of the tiny lake in the park, and near the stage. Fiddlers tuned up
as Brenda and Mac walked into the park and soon the competition began. The audience immediately got into the beat of the fiddles. Even those skeptical of that type of music were soon immersed in the lively tunes. Watching the fiddlers play became entertainment in itself. Each fiddler took a solo in turn and became one with his or her music.
Brenda looked to the left of the stage to find Jake. He was sixth in line when she saw Drake Cabot look up at the young man from the audience and mouth some inaudible words. She presumed he wished the young musician luck. Then she saw Reverend Thomas Kelly go and stand next to Mattie and Drake. All stood on the front row waiting, it seemed, for Jake Smith to take his turn in the competition.
Most of the crowd seemed primed and excited by the time the young man played his piece, and they quickly warmed to Jake the Shredder. They went wild when he stepped forward and really got into his performance. Jake chose to play “Billy and the Lowground.” He mesmerized the crowd with the upbeat performance.
“Jake has to be the winner,” Phyllis said. “How can the judges overlook playing like that?”
The crowd yelled for more until the master of ceremonies stepped forward to quiet everyone again.
“We still have three more competitors. Due to their popularity, we’ll ask the players to give an encore before the judges make their final decisions.” The crowd quieted and once Brenda listened to the other players, she told Mac she was glad she wasn’t one of the judges. Everyone demonstrated a lot of talent on the stage, though all in very different ways.
Everyone settled on the grass to hear the encores. For his encore, the young Jake chose one of his grandfather’s favorites, “Whiskey Before Breakfast.” The crowd went wild as he tore into the song and finished with his signature flourish in the air. The applause thundered around the stage and the young man’s cheeks seemed a little flushed with pride and knowledge of a job well done. After hearing all the competitors, it became evident to the audience that the competition would be a close one.
While the judges conferred, the fiddlers mingled with the crowd, signing autographs and chatting with fans. Finally, the announcer stepped up to the microphone again to announce the winners. Jake didn’t win first place, but he did take second prize. The broad grin on his face showed his immense satisfaction with that accomplishment. Compared to all the other players on stage, he was by far the youngest and perhaps he had a lot left to learn, but his natural talents and his enthusiasm for the music helped him rise above.
People moved forward to congratulate Jake and he signed many more autographs and took pictures with adoring fans and tourists. Brenda, Mac, Phyllis and William decided to ask for autographs later, back at the bed and breakfast. They strolled along the rows of vendor booths lit with strings of old-fashioned lights and the park resonated with a festive atmosphere. Sara and Alan had set up a small table to promote their products. They passed out samples of hand cream to visitors and Brenda noticed they were even getting orders. Energetic and outgoing, the couple’s personalities would certainly be an asset on their quest to be successful, she thought.
Several vendors began to dismantle their booths an hour later. Brenda and the others sat at a picnic table eating ice cream cones and watching the crowds. Sara Haas joined them for a few minutes and gushed over the wonderful evening of good music and a successful showing of Shakina products. “We’re bushed, but happy,” she said. “Alan is loading everything into the trunk of the car. We’re going to bask in our success and stroll down near the waterfront. I love the ocean at night.” They quickly finished packing up and left ahead of other guests.
Brenda and Phyllis complimented the young couple between them. “They are lovely guests,” Phyllis said. Neither she nor Brenda mentioned the other guests who seemed less happy that week. “I see a few other guests mingling,” Phyllis commented.
Brenda looked around the crowd. She didn’t see the Cabots or Thomas Kelly, but it had been a long day and night and her eyes grew tired. The musicians retreated behind the curtain of the temporary outdoor stage. Brenda decided that night she loved fiddle music and would always defend its merit, regardless of the opinions of people like Mason Eads. The musicians poured so much liveliness and improvisation and skill into their work it was obvious to anyone watching or listening that this style of playing required talent. Brenda still had a warm glow inside thinking about how the music made her feel.
* * *
Sara took Alan’s hand and they swung their arms to the lapping sounds of the ocean against the seawall. They had decided to leave the car downtown and return for it in the morning, and instead enjoy the walk back to the bed and breakfast after their long and successful day. When they walked toward Sheffield Bed and Breakfast, Sara stopped and gazed at the lighted windows shining out in the darkness, all the way up to the top floor. “It’s so stately,” she said. “We must come back soon.”
“It looks like this won’t be our last visit, Sara. We’ll have to come back to check on our product displays. I feel very good about how it’s all gone. And don’t forget, we have another mission to complete while we’re here, too.”
They continued to the beach near Sheffield House in silence and stayed there briefly. Sand beneath bare feet enhanced their moods and they turned back, contemplating what they needed to do next. Neither of them spoke about it out loud. The unspoken knowledge hovered in the air between them.
* * *
Brenda and Mac parted company with the Pendletons and slowly walked toward the main street lined with Sweetfern Harbor’s unique shops. One of Brenda’s favorite things to do was to window shop, especially when few people were on the sidewalks. She commented on the displays in the bridal shop and the coffee shop and then pulled Mac a few stores down to stand in front of their favorite storefront, their daughter’s, Jenny’s Blossoms. “Jenny is so talented. I like the way she changes her display often enough to keep everyone coming back to see what she has done.”
“She got that from her mother, God rest her soul,” Mac said. “She was very artistic and had good instincts for design like Jenny has. She certainly didn’t inherit that from me.” He chuckled, and Brenda joined in. She leaned closer to him as they continued their stroll.
When they passed in front of Sweet Treats, they noticed a light on in the back. “I hope that Hope and David had a chance to go to the competition,” Brenda said. “They work so hard all the time.”
Just at that moment, Hope came to the front of the shop with a large tray of freshly baked treats that were hard to see in the dim light. She looked up and saw them outside the window and motioned for them to come to the door. She unlocked the front door to let them in but didn’t turn on the lights. “If I turn them on, people will think we’re open for business. Come and try my fresh baked muffins. I always try to get one batch ahead to start the morning with. They’ll keep fresh for the first customers until the morning ones are baked.” David heard voices and came out and greeted them.
“I thought you were a news anchor,” Mac joked. “How did you get roped into baking?”
David laughed. “I get roped into a lot of things, I’m sure you know all about that, Mac. One would think I’d learn by now not to ask. I always feel sorry for my wife when she’s up working this late. Besides, if I help out, we can spend more time together.”
“I’ll take one of those muffins, Hope, but we just ate down at the park. I’ll keep it for my breakfast.” Brenda picked one from the tray and Hope placed that and one other for Mac in a carry-out box.
“How are things going this weekend at the bed and breakfast?” David asked.
“So far, so good,” Brenda said. She hesitated and decided against talking about her incompatible guests. “I hope they are patronizing your business, Hope. I always tell them where the morning pastries come from.” Hope assured her a number of people had turned up asking for the rolls and bagels. They chatted a few minutes longer before Mac and Brenda bid them farewell to continue toward home. Brenda basked in the slow walk next
to Mac, a rare moment of peaceful quiet for them.
* * *
Sara and Alan brushed sand from their feet and put their flip-flops back on. They decided to wait until morning to tally up the sales from that night. They had other things of importance on their minds and hurried forward. When they got to the edge of the lawn, Sara stopped again and looked at the Queen Anne from a different vantage point. She commented that no matter which direction one looked, one saw beauty.
They continued along the pathway in front of them. “Did you see that?” Sara asked, slowing her steps. She pointed toward the trees along the property. “We need to prepare ourselves, Alan.” She chuckled.
“It looks like someone is out, like we are,” Alan said.
“I couldn’t tell if it was one or two people since it…or they…moved so fast. It didn’t look like a leisurely stroll to me,” Sara said uneasily. They were close to the house and there were several lights on upstairs and in the hallways. The foyer light lit the porch brightly and pathway lights through the gardens showed blooming plants.
Sara grabbed Alan’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “Ouch,” he said. “Don’t be paranoid, Sara.” She pointed ahead.
“What is that on the ground near the front gate?” she asked. “It wasn’t there when we came back here earlier.”
“Someone must have dropped something they bought from the festival.” He turned to go, thinking their charade was going well.
Sara disagreed and grabbed his arm again and dragged him closer to the gate. “Whatever that is, it’s too big not to know you dropped it.” When they approached closer, they came to an abrupt stop. The dark heap resolved into the form of a man on the ground. Perhaps a drunken spectator lost his way and ended up on Sheffield Bed and Breakfast grounds by mistake. But then Alan pointed out the dark, sticky liquid trickling out from beneath the body.
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