by Sarah Fox
I tried tossing one end of the garland up into the top branches, but it fell short. I tugged it down to try again.
In the background, I could hear voices and the occasional round of hammering. Two of the voices drew closer.
“I’m so sorry,” a woman said.
I glanced toward the back of the room as a blond woman came into sight between the trees, heading down the middle pathway with Patricia.
“Don’t be,” Patricia said. “I completely understand.”
Two little girls, one blond and the other with dark hair, dashed past Patricia and the other woman, giggling as they ran by. I saw them in flashes between the trees.
“Emily!” the blond woman yelled. “No running inside!”
Both girls slowed to a walk, still giggling as they disappeared behind some trees.
“We have plenty of volunteers,” Patricia said, “so we’ll be fine.”
They were farther away from me now, so the woman’s response was just a murmur to my ears.
I tossed the garland up toward the top of my tree again, and this time had more success. Standing on tiptoes, I tried to wrap the garland around the tree, but I couldn’t get it to sit where I wanted. I struggled with it for another minute or so without much luck.
I was still wrestling with the garland when Patricia reappeared, this time on the same path as me.
“Hold on, Marley. I’ll grab you a stool.” She dashed out of sight and then came back a few seconds later, carrying a step stool. “This should help.”
“Thank you. It’ll help a lot.” I made sure the stool was steady before climbing onto it. “Is there a problem with one of the volunteers?” I couldn’t help my curiosity.
“Not really a problem,” Patricia said. “Johanna Jessen had planned to help out with decorating the room, but she was offered extra hours at her job. She’s a single mother. She went through a nasty divorce and moved out here from Idaho last year. I know it’s a struggle for her to make ends meet, so she couldn’t turn down the extra work.”
“Do you really have enough volunteers without her?” I asked as I tucked the garland in among the upper branches. “Because if you need me for anything, just let me know.”
“I appreciate that. I think we’ll be okay, especially now that Brett’s helping John with the sleigh.”
I hopped down from the stool and shifted it around the tree before climbing on it again.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Patricia grabbed the end of the garland as I tossed it around the tree.
“Thanks.” I jumped down from the stool again. The garland was now well within reach when I stood on the floor, so I nudged the stool aside.
“It’s too bad you and Brett didn’t get the vacation you were hoping for,” Patricia said as we worked.
“You heard about what happened?” I wasn’t all that surprised. Patricia always seemed to know what was going on around the peninsula.
“I talked to one of the friends Rita and I have in common.” She shook her head sadly. “Such terrible news.”
“It really was terrible,” I agreed. “And our vacation definitely didn’t go as planned.” I tucked the garland in among the branches. “But it seems like a minor inconvenience compared to what happened to Kevin.”
“I know.” She took the garland from me and settled it in place on her side of the tree before passing the end to me. “I still can’t believe he was murdered!”
“How well did you know him?” I asked.
“Not all that well, but he used to live here in Wildwood Cove.”
“Really?” That was news to me.
“I know Rita better, even though she didn’t live here in town as long as Kevin did. About a year or so after they married, they bought Holly Lodge and they’ve lived up there ever since. John, Sienna, and I have only gone up there twice, but while Rita was here in Wildwood Cove, she was in a book club I belonged to at the time.”
I tucked the end of the garland into place and stood back to admire our work. “I feel terrible for Rita, but she seemed to be holding up okay. Her daughter is with her.”
“That’s good to know,” Patricia said with relief. “I’ve been worried about her.”
I couldn’t stop myself from asking my next question. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill Kevin?”
“None at all. He always seemed like a nice man. I can’t believe someone murdered him and buried him in a snowbank. It’s awful.”
“How did you hear about the snowbank?” I asked, surprised that she knew about that detail.
“A woman who was staying at Holly Lodge booked into the B&B yesterday,” Patricia explained. “She told me more than my friend was able to tell me.” She grimaced. “Maybe a bit more than I really wanted to know.”
It wasn’t hard to guess the identity of that woman. “Lily Spitz is staying in Wildwood Cove?”
“For a few days, anyway. She’s a romance and mystery writer, which you probably already know.” When I nodded, she continued. “Apparently she wants to set a book here on the Olympic Peninsula so she’s checking out various locations, getting to know the area.”
“A romance or a mystery?” I asked.
“A mystery, I believe, though I’m not a hundred percent sure.”
“I’ll have to get a copy of the book when it comes out,” I said. “It would be cool to read one set around here.”
“And we know how you can’t resist a mystery,” Patricia said with a smile.
I laughed. “I think all of Wildwood Cove knows that by now.”
I knelt down next to my box, carefully lifting out a few of the decorations.
“I’d better go check out what’s happening in the next room,” Patricia said. “We’re putting together Santa’s workshop back there.”
“That sounds fun.”
“Hopefully it will be. Just let me know if you need any more help.”
I called out my thanks as she hurried off.
I spent the next while hanging my decorations on the branches of my tree. I’d found a seller on Etsy who made cute food-themed ornaments by hand. I’d bought several, including a miniature stack of pancakes with butter melting on the top, a waffle sprinkled with sparkly fake cinnamon and sugar, and others in the shape of toast, one topped with jam and the other with slices of avocado. I’d also purchased a miniature frying pan with bacon and eggs in it, and several tiny teacups in different colors.
It didn’t take long to get all the ornaments on the tree. When I stood back to see how everything looked, I immediately noticed a problem. The tree was still quite bare. I didn’t have nearly enough ornaments to decorate it fully. I briefly considered choosing a smaller tree, but I didn’t want to undo the work I’d already put into this one, and the other available trees weren’t much different in size. I’d have to come up with another solution, but I couldn’t do much else with the tree at the moment.
After tucking my empty box out of the way, I wandered off in search of Brett. I found him not far from the entrance to the back room. He and Patricia’s husband, John, were using cordless drills to put the life-sized wooden sleigh together. From the looks of it, they were almost done with the job.
Brett fastened a screw into place and then glanced up and noticed me. He set down his drill. “How’s the tree?”
“Good, except for the fact that I need way more decorations.”
Brett held out an arm and I stepped closer to him so he could wrap it around me. “I’m sure we can come up with more.”
Hopefully he was right. I didn’t know of any stores in Wildwood Cove that sold food-themed Christmas tree ornaments, but I could take another look online and place a rush order.
Patricia appeared between two trees, looking around. A tall woman with spiky dark hair hurried toward us from another direction.
“No lu
ck?” the dark-haired woman asked Patricia.
“Not yet.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting the confusion on Patricia’s face.
“We’re looking for some ornaments,” she replied.
“Stars and acorns,” the other woman said. “Sparkly silver ones.”
“Where did you last see them, Annette?” John asked her.
“On my tree.”
“Someone took the decorations off your tree?” I didn’t know why anyone would have done such a thing.
“Not all of them,” Annette said, “but a few.”
“And we haven’t been able to find them anywhere,” Patricia added.
“I can’t believe it.” Annette rested her hands on her hips. “Who the heck steals Christmas decorations?”
Chapter Nine
John, Brett, and I helped Patricia and Annette search for the missing ornaments, without success. Eventually, we had to give up and accept that the decorations were truly gone. It was hard to imagine how that could have happened without someone stealing them.
“I’ll check with everyone else who’s already put up decorations, to make sure nothing else has gone missing,” Patricia said once we’d finished searching.
Annette thanked us all for our help and then shifted some of the decorations still on her tree, trying to make the gaps less obvious.
“Somebody’s lacking holiday spirit,” I said to Patricia as Brett and John returned to working on the sleigh.
“Let’s hope it’s an isolated occurrence.” She had a worry line across her forehead.
I couldn’t blame her for being concerned. She and the other volunteers had put a lot of work into the event and wanted it to become an annual town tradition. If the festival didn’t run smoothly, its first year could end up being its last.
We decided to focus on something more positive. We couldn’t do anything about the missing ornaments, but we could put up other decorations. Since I couldn’t work on my tree anymore at the moment, I helped Patricia with stringing lights around the room.
Brett and John finished with the sleigh a short time later and came over to help us out. When all the lights were up, we decided to call it a day. I fetched the empty box I’d stashed next to my tree and the four of us left the seniors’ center together. A couple of volunteers stayed behind to keep working, and others would join them later in the day. I had no doubt that the place would look incredible by the time the festival started. Hopefully my tree would too.
As we stepped out into the cool afternoon, my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten lunch. I was about to suggest to Brett that we stop by the bakery for sandwiches, when I spotted a familiar figure walking along the opposite side of the street.
I put a hand on Brett’s arm. “Isn’t that Ambrose?”
“You’ve met him?” Patricia asked as she zipped up her jacket.
“He was staying at Holly Lodge on the weekend,” Brett replied. “He’s not from Wildwood Cove, is he?”
Brett had grown up in town and knew most of the long-time residents, at least by sight.
“Not originally,” John said.
“He moved here a couple months ago,” Patricia added. “He’s a poet, and I’ve heard him speak at the library. He draws a lot of his inspiration from nature. Maybe that’s why he was up in the mountains, to get closer to the wilderness.”
And maybe the fact that he lived in Wildwood Cove was another reason why Lily had come to town.
Ambrose was out of sight now, and he slipped from my mind too. Brett and I exchanged a few more words with Patricia and John, and then we climbed into Brett’s truck.
Once we had arrived home and greeted our animals, we sat down to eat sandwiches we’d picked up at the bakery after leaving the seniors’ center. I was about to take a bite out of my veggie sandwich when I stopped, my gaze settling on a mason jar full of seashells that sat on the kitchen windowsill. I had a habit of picking up pretty shells when out walking on the beach, and I’d managed to build up quite a collection. I had two other jars filled to the brim, those sitting on a windowsill in the family room.
I set down my sandwich. “I wasn’t sure what to do about The Flip Side’s festival tree, because I don’t think it’ll be all that easy to find enough breakfast-themed ornaments to make it look fully decorated, at least not in the next couple of days.”
“But now you’ve got an idea?” Brett guessed before taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.
“The Flip Side is a seaside pancake house, so maybe I could use decorations with an ocean theme. I could probably even make them myself.” I was already picturing how I could use the shells.
Brett took a drink of water. “Maybe some of them. You don’t have much time before the festival starts, remember.”
“Good point,” I conceded. I probably wouldn’t be able to make more than a handful of ornaments in the amount of time I had, and it would take more than a handful to fully decorate the tree. “I’ll see what I can find online.”
After eating, I did just that. Fortunately, I found some online shops with what I needed. My purchases included colorful glass sea creatures and seagulls. I placed a couple of rush orders that would hopefully arrive within forty-eight hours. I hadn’t entirely nixed the idea of making some decorations myself, so I also spent some time sorting through my seashells and washing the ones I thought would make good tree ornaments. I still had plenty of work to do to make my new vision come together, but I was determined to make The Flip Side’s festival tree look spectacular.
* * * *
It would have been so easy to stay in bed the next morning. When I woke up, the world was still pitch black outside the windows and a chill had settled over the bedroom. Brett was sound asleep and the temptation to stay curled up next to him was almost too great to resist. If not for Flapjack standing on my shoulder and staring into my eyes with his amber ones, I might have gone right back to sleep.
After I showered and dressed, I headed downstairs, Flapjack and Bentley leading the way. I let Bentley out into the yard for a few minutes and dished out some food for Flapjack while he purred and rubbed against my ankles. I was about to make myself a smoothie when my phone chimed across the room. I grabbed it from the table and read the text message I’d just received.
Don’t eat breakfast.
That’s all it said, and no further text messages followed. That didn’t surprise me. The Flip Side’s chef, Ivan, had sent the text, and he was a man of few words.
I knew I wasn’t likely to regret following his instructions, so I skipped my smoothie and bundled up in preparation for heading out into the frosty morning. Brett was still sleeping and I decided not to wake him. He had another day off work and there was no reason for him to be up before dawn, even if he hoped to work on our home renovations, which he probably would. He didn’t like leaving projects unfinished, and the new master bathroom was a long way from being done. Brett had gutted the old storage closet and had put in the door to our bedroom, but that was as much as he’d had a chance to do before we’d set off for our brief getaway.
After giving Flapjack a cuddle and kissing Bentley on the top of his curly head, I left the house. Much of the year I walked to and from work, but in the cold and darkness of the winter mornings, I relied much more on my car.
The drive to the pancake house took only a few minutes. The Flip Side had a prime location in Wildwood Cove—right on the beach and not far from Main Street. In the summer months, I put a few tables out front of the restaurant so diners could enjoy the fresh sea air with a perfect view of the ocean. At this time of year, however, the view had to be enjoyed through the large front windows, with a toasty fire burning in the stone fireplace.
I parked in the small lot behind the restaurant, happy to see the warm light that glowed in the kitchen window. I hurried inside and stopped in my office long enoug
h to shed my coat and drop off my tote bag. From there, I went straight to the blissfully warm kitchen.
Ivan and his assistant, Tommy Park, were both there. Ivan was filling muffin tins with what looked like batter for gingerbread muffins, and Tommy was drizzling maple glaze over a batch of pumpkin scones. Pie plates full of baked apple pie and pumpkin pie filling sat cooling on one of the countertops, ready to be used to fill crêpes. The kitchen smelled heavenly. My mouth watered and my stomach gave a loud rumble.
Tommy dropped what he was doing as soon as he saw me. “Happy birthday, Marley!”
I accepted his bearhug with a big smile on my face. “Thank you, Tommy.”
Ivan set down the large bowl of muffin batter. “Happy birthday.” He scowled at me. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Not a single bite.”
“Good.” He pointed at a stool. “Sit down.”
My smile remained as bright as ever. I was used to Ivan’s gruff personality and I had nothing but respect and affection for him.
I pulled the stool up to the counter and took a seat.
Ivan poured some batter into a crêpe pan. “Apple or pumpkin?”
I eyed the pie plates across the room. “Hmmm.”
It wasn’t an easy choice to make. Ivan’s apple pie crêpes and pumpkin pie crêpes were both among my absolute favorite seasonal items from The Flip Side’s menu.
“One of each,” Ivan declared.
I smiled again. “There can’t be such a thing as a better breakfast than that.”
“Are you having a party?” Tommy asked as he finished glazing the pumpkin scones.
“No,” I replied. “Originally, we weren’t supposed to get back home until yesterday afternoon, so we haven’t planned anything. But that’s okay. I’m happy to spend a quiet evening with Brett.”
Tommy started glazing a second batch of scones. “I heard your vacation got interrupted.”
“Another murder.” Ivan practically growled the words, his dark eyes staring me down from across the worktop.