In Hot Fudge And Cold Blood

by A. R. Winters

  “Look at you two!” said Wanda as we entered. “Such pretty faces!”

  Mom smiled at that, and I couldn’t help but join her. It was nice to be complimented.

  “Thanks!” I said brightly.

  “We have a number of different programs, all of which were developed by me personally to make you into the very best Weight Warriors you can be. Now, let’s have a look...” Wanda paced around us, running her eyes over our curves.

  “We’re not here for—” began Mom, but I stopped her with a jab just under her ribs. She glared at me, open-mouthed. I smiled back innocently.

  “Now,” said Wanda to Mom, “I think what you need is my Amazonian princess program!”

  “Princess?” said Mom, a smile almost escaping out onto her lips.

  Wanda nodded firmly. “Oh yes. That’s what I do. I turn Amazonian piggies into Amazonian princesses!”

  “Piggy?” exclaimed Mom. My rapid-fire jab did nothing to stop her this time. “Piggy? Piggy!?”

  Wanda tittered and smiled. “Just a little joke. We like to do that here—we joke around. Have a laugh with each other. And one of the first steps to weight loss success,” she jabbed a finger at a poster titled Weight Loss Success while she spoke, “is to be honest with yourself. Even when it hurts. And you,” she said, adjusting the finger she was pointing to aim back at Mom, “are an Amazonian piggy!”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. Her good mood, friendly demeanor, and insults toward my mother were contagious.

  “And you too, dear. But you’re not quite a piggy, you’re more like a chubby Amazonian anteater.”

  I frowned at her. I was not chubby, and I definitely didn’t eat ants. Mom beamed a triumphant smirk my way.

  “Now, what you’re going to love about the Weight Warrior program is that you can eat anything you like!”

  “She already does,” said Mom, nudging me and cackling.

  Wanda raised her eyebrows at Mom. “And we all know where she got it from, my little forest piggy.”

  “Actually, we’re not here to join your ridiculous eat-anything-you-want program. If we wanted to do that, we’d go to Min’s All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet,” said Mom pointedly.

  “Oh, you are funny,” said Wanda without laughter. “It’s not eat as much as you want, just eat whatever you want—as long as you’ve got the stickers for it!”

  “Stickers?” I asked.

  Wanda nodded, keen to explain her Weight Warrior system. “You have your diet book, and your sticker book. Everything you eat, you record with stickers. The more calories, the more stickers! You can eat whatever you want, every day—until you run out of stickers!”

  “And what happens after that?” I asked.

  “We shoot you!”

  “What!?”

  “Just my little joke!” said Wanda, giggling to herself. “No, what happens is you record it in your Naughty Book. At our meetings, we have to read out everything in our Naughty Books for a good old-fashioned public shaming. It’s very motivating.”

  “We have no interest in any of this nonsense,” said Mom. “I’m not here to join your club.”

  Wanda giggled again and shook her head at Mom. “It’s okay to be in denial. Most of our new members are reluctant piggies to start with!”

  “No,” said Mom, firmly.

  Wanda faltered. She wasn’t used to people coming in with no intention of joining. I didn’t know why Mom couldn’t just play along with it though, just for a few more minutes, so we could get to know Wanda and ask her what we really came for.

  “Then why are you here, may I ask? You’re not from that new church, are you?”

  Think fast, Aria! Why are we here, if not to join?

  “We’re here, because...”

  Wanda looked at me expectantly. Mom looked at me with a smug look on her face, excited to see what I was going to come up with.

  “... because I run a bridal shop.”

  Wanda cocked her head at me. “So...?”

  “So I’m, err, looking for some models. Plus-size models. We’re getting a lot of interest these days in bigger dresses, and we need to take a few photos with some of the more spectacular dresses. So many of the bridal magazines are just full of skinny girls, you know?”

  Wanda nodded thoughtfully. “I see. I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you there though—all my Warriors are skinny.”

  “They are?”

  Wanda nodded. “Of course. The club works!” She looked at Mom. “We have an introductory rate for your first month...”

  “No!” said Mom a little too loudly.

  “I found your flyer on the door of a, well, a kind of friend,” I said quickly, before Mom could say anything more about not wanting to join Wanda’s club.

  “Oh?” said Wanda giving me a suspicious look.

  “Well, not exactly a friend, but someone I used to buy fudge from. Sandra. Did you know her?”

  Slowly, Walnut Wanda nodded.

  “Yes, I knew her. Isn’t it terrible what happened to her?”

  “It certainly was terrible,” I said. “Did you know her well?”

  Wanda nodded. “I did, after she nearly killed me.”

  Mom and I both put on our best ‘we’re shocked!’ faces.

  “She nearly killed you?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “Well, you may not believe it, but Walnut isn’t actually my real name.”

  “No way.”

  “Say it isn’t so.”

  “Yep. The reason they call me Walnut Wanda is actually because I’m allergic to them! It was a fun little nickname they gave me in school, and it stuck. But Sandra for some reason forgot all about my nut allergy, and sold me a batch of fudge she’d made with crushed walnuts and almonds!”

  “Oh, no, how terrible!” I said.

  “It was. I’d barely eaten half a pound of it when my allergies kicked in. My throat swelled up and I couldn’t breathe. I nearly died!”

  I clucked, trying to look horrified and sympathetic. “Oh wow, that’s horrible. I guess that was the end of your friendship then, huh?”

  Wanda shook her head. “No way. I loved Sandra.”

  “But she nearly killed you!” said Mom with a glare. I knew what Mom would have done if someone had nearly killed her—and it wouldn’t have involved ‘loving her’ after.

  “She may have nearly killed me, but she also saved me,” said Wanda.

  “What, she drove you to the hospital?” I asked.

  Wanda shook her head. “No, she was too busy for that. I mean, she saved me because she broke my fudge addiction. I haven’t touched another piece of it since I got out of the hospital. After that, I lost nearly a hundred pounds, regained my health, and started the Weight Warriors!”

  “So you actually felt grateful toward Sandra, even though she nearly killed you?”

  “Exactly. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”

  “That’s not what my Uncle Hank said after he lost his arms in a snowmobile accident,” said Mom.

  I frowned at her. She didn’t have an Uncle Hank, but she did delight in being contrary.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” I told her. “I suppose I’ll have to find my plus-sized models somewhere else.”

  “Couldn’t you use her?” said Wanda pointing at my mother.

  Mom glared at Wanda.

  “Her?” I said, running my eyes over my mother as if for the first time. “My mother’s far too old.” I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

  “She’s your mother? I thought you were sisters!”

  I quickly grabbed my mother by the elbow. “Come on, we’re leaving!”

  Chapter 10

  Three days later, I was walking down Main Street with Kiwi on my shoulder. It was a chilly day and no one else was foolish enough to be walking. But our destination was so close to our shop and home that I hadn’t even considered driving.

  Wanda’s not so subtle implications about me needing to join her Weight Warriors club also provided
some small incentive to burn some calories with a walk.

  “You’re sure you want to come?” I said to Kiwi.

  “Of course! I loved Sandra,” he said, finishing with a sad caw.

  “You didn’t know Sandra!”

  He took a moment to consider.

  “I loved Sandra...’s fudge,” he said, cackling and fluttering his wings in a mini-display of triumph.

  “Yeah, that’s more like it. Just make sure you behave yourself, Kiwi. I don’t want you making a scene. It’s a memorial. This is a serious and solemn event.”

  “With snacks,” he said, confirming yet again.

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps they won’t allow animals near the food.”

  Kiwi answered with an angry chattering sound but no further words.

  We could hear the memorial before we could see it. As we rounded the corner, we were greeted with the sight of Randi’s Candy Shop almost overflowing with people. The double doors at the entrance had both been propped open, and a large black banner hung across the entryway.

  “She must have been a popular lady,” I said absentmindedly.

  “More like popular fudge,” said Kiwi surreptitiously into my ear.

  I peered in to survey the scene before fully committing. Inside, I could see Randi dishing out fudge. Sarah was already there, standing by a table on which she had a scrapbook. Mayor Donovan Charlston was standing awkwardly with his assistant. Rick and Nina Wellington, a young married couple whose wedding I’d organized, were nibbling on fudge, and numerous other locals who I recognized by face if not name were milling about.

  Notable in her absence, though, was my mother. I hadn’t seen her since our chat with Walnut Wanda and she seemed to be in hiding until either the effects of her spell wore off or she found some way to reverse it.

  Finally entering the fray, I walked in and headed straight toward Randi to grab some of the free fudge. Though Kiwi had complained before, it wasn’t all that bad.

  Randi looked down at her tray and up again at me as I approached, her eyes flashing with uneasiness.

  “Hello, welcome,” she said.

  “Hi,” I said with a bright smile. “Can I have a piece of fudge?”

  Randi nodded and quickly handed me a napkin with a little square of the sweet creamy treat. Kiwi remained resolutely silent on my shoulder, with no interest in Randi’s fudge at all. It was Sandra’s or nothing for him. I took a bite. Then I took another one. And then it was all gone.

  “This fudge...”

  I wanted to say that it was much better than what we’d bought the previous week, but I didn’t want to retroactively insult her, so I just let my words hang instead, hoping she would provide an answer of some kind. And she did.

  “Good, isn’t it?” said Randi, smiling now.

  “It is good,” I said, nodding thoughtfully. “Did you change your supplier again?”

  Randi shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked around furtively before replying.

  “I... made it myself,” she answered finally.

  “Oh, it’s very good. Can I have another piece, for Kiwi?”

  “Sure, of course,” she said handing me another napkin.

  I broke the piece of fudge in half and held it up for Kiwi. Tentatively, he gave it a nibble.

  “Fudge!” he shrieked, before snatching the rest of what I was holding right out of my fingers.

  “It tastes like Sandra’s,” I said.

  Randi nodded.

  “It is Sandra’s. Her recipe, at least.”

  Just then, Sarah appeared by my side, briefly abandoning the scrapbook and her table which were just a little to the right of the fudge display.

  “Did you say it was Sandra’s recipe?” said Sarah eagerly.

  “It is. She told me her secrets a long time ago, but out of respect I never made and sold her fudge. But now that she’s gone, it seemed like a nice way to keep her memory alive, don’t you think?”

  Kiwi gave a happy caww and I nodded in agreement.

  “It tastes wonderful,” I said, balling up the napkin I’d just finished with. “I’m sure Sandra would be proud.”

  “I don’t suppose you have one of her recipe cards, do you?” asked Sarah with a thoughtful frown. “It would really complete the scrapbook I’ve put together. Look,” she said pointing at her table, “people are really enjoying it.”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Randi with a shake of her head. “Sandra told me the recipe. She didn’t write it down for me. Nope, now it’s all up here.” Randi tapped her temple with a finger.

  “Do you have anything else then, from her? Photos or something?”

  Randi shook her head again, and before Sarah could hassle her any further another lady squeezed in front of her.

  “Can I try a piece?” said the newcomer.

  She was a friendly-looking woman in perhaps her mid-thirties, with a mop of curly brown hair and tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses. Clutched in her left hand was the downtown map that was given out in the tourist office, and hanging from her neck was a camera on a strap. Despite clearly being an out-of-towner, there was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was.

  “Here you go,” said Randi, handing over another napkin with a little square of fudge to the newcomer.

  Curiously, I watched as the tourist raised it to her face and gave it a tentative sniff before taking a small nibble, then a bigger bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed it with the air of a connoisseur, and I had to stop myself from giggling. She would get along well with Kiwi.

  “How is it?” asked Randi, beaming, fishing for a compliment with all the confidence that comes with having the best fudge in town.

  She snapped her eyes open again, swallowed and then fixed Randi with a stare.

  “Almost perfect,” she said with a smile.

  Randi’s face had developed a quizzical frown. “Almost?”

  “It would have been perfect, if only it hadn’t been stirred,” she said enigmatically.

  Randi blushed, nodded and then scurried away, abandoning the tray of fudge and pile of napkins to the fate of being a self-service buffet. It wouldn’t last long, I wagered.

  “Fudge!” screeched Kiwi in my ear.

  Obligingly, I grabbed another napkin and loaded it with three more squares of the fudge to keep him quiet during the somber moments that would presumably be coming.

  “Come on,” said Sarah nudging my arm. “Let me show you my scrapbook of Sandra.”

  “A scrapbook?” said the fudge-connoisseur tourist. “Since I didn’t know her at all, that sounds like it would be very interesting.”

  “Please feel free join us,” I said to her.

  At least two of the three of us would be interested.

  Chapter 11

  The tourist was flicking through Sarah’s scrapbook dedicated to Sandra.

  “You must have been very close,” she said and offered a sad smile.

  “Close? No, not at all. I never even met her!” said Sarah brightly.

  The woman cocked her head at us. “Then...”

  Not wanting to leave her hanging I decided to jump in. Not everyone appreciated Sarah’s various eccentricities quite the way I did.

  “Sarah recently got into scrapbooking,” I explained, “and this terribly sad event has been the talk of the town. It seemed like a perfect opportunity for Sarah to put her new scrapbooking skills to work.”

  “I wanted to do something useful,” Sarah added.

  I was tempted to ask what use it would serve, but thought it would be a bit too cruel. Sarah’s non-stop parade of passions was one of her most endearing qualities, even if some of the passions were less fun for me than others.

  “Well I think that’s very noble of you,” said the tourist with a smile. “Scrapbooking is a wonderful way to make memories last.”

  “We’ll never forget Sandra Cobb,” I said.

  The woman frowned at me.

  “I thought it
was Sandra Webb?”

  “Oh! So it was. Cobb... Webb... I get confused. Did you know her then?”

  The tourist shook her head as she pointed up at a banner that was hung above the counter. It read “In Loving Memory of Sandra Webb.”

  We both had to cover our mouths to stop from laughing. It was a solemn occasion, after all.

  “I’m Lara Fischer, by the way,” she said, quickly dropping the napkin she’d been holding and extending a pale hand.

  “Aria Whitmore,” I said with a little curtsy as we squeezed each other’s hands.

  “I just love fudge. I was walking around and I saw the sign, and I thought, ‘I absolutely have to go and try their fudge!’ I had no idea there was a memorial going on.” She made a show of looking around the crowded room. “Do you think it’s all right for me to be here?”

  I nodded and gave her my best welcoming smile. As a business owner in Sequoia Bay, I’m an ambassador for the town, and I try to be nice to all the tourists and visitors that are its lifeblood—even the annoying ones. Luckily, Lara didn’t fit into the ‘annoying’ category. At least, not yet.

  “Of course not! I’m sure Randi—that’s the owner of this shop—is delighted to have you and everyone else here. She’s using Sandra’s fudge recipe, you know, so even though you didn’t know her, it’s like you’re getting to know her now, right? Or at least getting to know her fudge.”

  Lara grinned and reached out to squeeze my forearm. “Thank you. This is a very friendly town.”

  I beamed back at her.

  CLINK CLINK CLINK.

  “Could I have everyone’s attention please?”

  Mayor Donovan Charlston was holding out a half-filled whiskey glass, which he was tapping repeatedly with a silver spoon. No one else had a glass. He must have brought it with him.

  “As the mayor, I thought it would be best if I were to say a few words.”

  There was a rumbling of appreciation and encouragement from the gathered throng. I’d thought the memorial needed to have some kind of focal point, and it seemed like the mayor had the same thought.

  “We are gathered here today, not just to listen to me, but also to listen to what I have to say. As the mayor—for many wonderful years, and for many more to come, I hope—of this amazing town, I have had the honor of meeting so many wonderful citizens. Sandra...” The mayor took a brief pause as if trying to recall something.