by Nancy CoCo
The rest of the art fair booths were well in hand by the time I arrived to pass out water. I answered a few questions and said hello to some of the people I knew from the summer season. Mackinac Island was a real art colony. Many of the artists lived on the island at least half of the year.
I got a few more cards for artists whose work I might feature in my renovated rooms. My plans firmed up with each artist I talked to. I could do each room around a different artist and offer their art for sale. Several of them seemed to love the idea. Finally, after my two hours of volunteer time were up, I went back to collect my pottery bowl.
My own apartment at the hotel was filled with things that had belonged to my grandparents. I loved having their things around me, but it didn’t give me much room for my own things. I thought the little bowl would make a great candy dish on my office desk. Perhaps I could entice people to come up to my office and visit. Ever since Jenn had left and I had broken up with Trent, there weren’t a lot of reasons for people to visit. Even Frances and Mr. Devaney didn’t stick around for drinks or dinner anymore. I guess I didn’t blame them. They were newlyweds, after all.
Perhaps the excitement of being new to the island and the rush of the summer season had finally worn off.
Haley saw me walking up and reached to get my bowl. She had wrapped it in paper and put it inside a pretty, patterned blue bag. I handed her my credit card to process. “Thanks for saving this for me.”
“I’m sure you’re going to enjoy it.” She gave me back my card, and I signed the receipt before picking up the bag. “You know, I offer pottery classes at the senior center. You should think about signing up.”
“Me? No, I’m not an artist.”
“I beg to differ,” she said, leaning against the table where she wrapped up her goods. “I saw the way you handled that bowl. You might actually be good at slinging mud—that’s what I like to call making pottery. It’s soothing to the soul.”
“As long as I’m not expected to do more than coil clay, I might give it a shot.”
“I think you’ll be surprised,” she said. She crossed her arms. “You should free your inner artist. I know that fudge making is an art, too, and sometimes when we make art our work, it’s good to switch to other forms.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
An elderly couple walked up and started talking to Haley about her work. I walked down the busy lawn that separated the booths. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a pottery class. It could be a good way to meet more people. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so lonely.
Chapter 4
“I need to talk to you,” Sandy said when I entered the McMurphy.
“Sure.” I took off my jacket and hung it on the pegs by the back door. I brought in my package and pulled the little bowl out of the bag. “I thought you had a booth at the art fair.”
“I did, but I sold out early. I have pictures up as sample work, so I left my mother there to take orders. I thought it was important to talk with you right away.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I’ve been offered the position of head pastry chef at the new Grander Hotel for next season,” she said.
“Oh.” I put the bowl down on the receptionist desk and turned toward Sandy. Her face didn’t reveal any expression so it was hard to tell what she was thinking. “Are you excited?”
“It was what I was hoping for when I went to school to study pastry and candy making.”
“Will you be able to make your chocolate centerpieces?”
“The manager, Roy Williams, told me that I would be able to keep my business going. I could even schedule time off to work on pieces for local events. Roy saw my work this summer and thought I’d be perfect for when they host weddings and special events.”
“You would be perfect,” I said. I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face. “Are you going to take it?”
“I told him I’d think about it. The pay is nearly double.”
“Of course,” I said. “I always knew I couldn’t pay what you’re worth. I know he said you could keep it, but would you have time to expand your business?”
She shrugged. “I would most likely have to give it up. But people would buy from the hotel.”
“It sounds like a good opportunity,” I said, trying to remain positive. “That kind of money would help your grandma, and having a place like the Grander Hotel on your résumé wouldn’t hurt.”
She eyed me with a tilt of her head. “Are you okay with it?”
“If that is what you want,” I said, hugging my waist. “I want you to be happy. I really appreciate you and all that you do to help. The McMurphy won’t be the same without you, though.”
“So you don’t want me to take it?”
“I . . . I want what’s best for you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, turning on her heel and heading off into the fudge shop. I didn’t know what I had thought would happen in the off-season. But I felt as if I was losing all my friends.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the rooms that guests had checked out from. I didn’t replace the sheets, as I would be closing rooms on the second floor for remodeling soon. I had one guest staying on the third flood this week. That left a lot of time and space to plot and plan.
Frances came in toward evening. “I came to check on you,” she said as she entered my office.
I was busy paying bills.
“How’s Maggs?”
Frances sat down in Jenn’s chair. “She’s hurting pretty badly. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your baby like that.”
“Do you need more time off?”
“No, Maggs’s sister Anne came up from Lansing. I’m going to go home to Douglas and take a nice hot bath. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Okay.” I sighed. Mal got up from the dog bed beside me and put her paws on my thigh, as if she knew I needed a reminder that I haven’t lost all of my friends.
“You sound blue,” Frances said. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yes, sure,” I said. “It’s just that sometimes Papa’s death weighs heavily on me. It was supposed to be him and me together for a few years, you know?”
“Yes, I know,” she said, putting her hand on mine. “But you’re doing so well by yourself. Liam must be so proud.”
“He’s probably too busy running around meeting as many famous people as he can while he’s up there.”
“No, I think he’s looking down on you. I swear it’s how you’ve remained safe during most of the awful adventures you’ve had this season.”
“They have been awful, haven’t they?” I picked up Mal, petting her for a few moments in silence. “Do you know Haley Manx?”
“She’s a potter, right?”
“One and the same,” I said with a nod. “She said she gives pottery classes. I was thinking I should go and try my hand at making a bowl.”
“You should go,” Frances agreed. “It would do you good. When’s the class?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll check the website to see what’s scheduled. I think she gives them at the senior center.”
“You know, you’re too young to be hanging out at the senior center as much as you do. You should try the church hall. There are lots of classes and friends to be made there.”
“That’s a thought,” I said. “What else goes on during the off-season? I mean, besides snowmobiling and the Santa fun run?”
“It’s very laid-back here in the winter. I usually only go out to get groceries. Otherwise, it’s puzzles and books—lots of books. I’m glad the library gets regular shipments. I must have read almost every book in there. Douglas gave me an e-book reader on our honeymoon. There are thousands of books you can download and read, all on one handy little tablet.”
“I’ll try to remember that. Listen, before you go, I’ve got an appointment with the permit office to start the second-floor room
remodel.”
“Oh, good. Do you know what themes you’re going to decorate with?”
“Well, I spent a couple of hours today volunteering at the art fair, and I got the great idea to highlight local artists. Let them put paintings and such in the rooms, and offer them for sale. I wouldn’t take a commission.”
“Why not? I think that’s a great idea,” Frances said. “You know, it’s really too bad you didn’t get out and do that Walking Red zombie walk. You were very cute in your pinup girl outfit.”
“Thanks?” I said, slightly bemused. Frances was a dear, but she rarely commented on what I wear.
“Don’t look at me that way. I just think you don’t get out enough.”
“Well, Trent and I broke up, and Jenn’s in Chicago—”
“All silly excuses,” Frances said. “Rex is right here, you know. Plus, there’re a lot more men on the island than women—especially in the off-season. You’re young and lovely. You should be having the time of your life, not staying holed up in a hotel kitchen making fudge.”
“But making fudge is having the time of my life,” I teased.
“You should have beaus left and right,” she said.
“You just want me to fall in love because you’re in love.”
“Well, maybe a little bit,” she said with a shy smile. “But I know we aren’t spending as much time with you like we used to, and you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. I have Mal and Carmella and the McMurphy.”
“All that is not enough for a young woman.”
“Well, I’m not really the bar-going, party-girl type,” I said with a shrug. “I guess I’m more of an introvert. Jenn’s better at socializing. I always feel strange walking into a bar by myself, and I’m horrible at pool and darts.” I shrugged again. “We all know I can’t play chess. Is there something I’m missing? A card club, or something that isn’t tied to the senior center?”
“Oh, dear,” Frances said. “Yes, I guess I see the problem. Maybe I can fix that.”
“No, no,” I said, raising my hand to stop her. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need any matchmaking.”
“We’ll see about that,” Frances said.
“Changing the subject back to business,” I said. “I’ve got the permits to make the room updates, so starting Monday, I want to rope off the second floor and put all guests on the third. Once the second floor is done with fresh paint and fresh flooring, then we’ll start on the third.”
“What about the rooftop deck?”
“I’ve got a meeting with the historical society today.”
“On Sunday?”
“Yes, they meet Sunday afternoons. I think it’s more of a social club than a quote-unquote ‘society.’ They’re having a tea this afternoon with a speaker on the War of 1812.”
“And you’ll get your approvals at this tea?”
“At the meeting before the tea,” I said. “It’s sort of a formality. I’ve presented all the plans and gathered all the permits. I just need the mayor and the society to bless it, and then I can schedule out the work.”
“We need to get that work done before the snow flies,” Frances warned. “Once it freezes, there will be little they can do to the roof until next year.”
“Well now, see, that’s the beauty of the roof deck,” I said. “It’s all about reinforcing the studs, and those can be done from underneath, through the attic. The roof itself is covered in rolled asphalt for now. Once the structural work is done, we can wait until spring to have them refinish the roof with wood planks and then stain it. And as far as the historical society is concerned, there will be no change to the front of the building and no change to the look of Main Street. It’s not like the lobby remodel, where they had to approve colors and such. No one will see the deck unless they’re up on the roof.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Frances said. “Are you prepared to have workmen coming and going through your home during the day to work in the attic? After all, you sealed off all of the entrances other than the one in your apartment.”
“I’m certainly not looking forward to it, but the chance to offer rooftop events is worth it. Don’t you think?”
“I think it’s a novel idea. Lots of people would love the view, certainly. I can attest to how lovely it is. I’m just worried you might be in over your head with such a project.”
“I’ve got some good contractor quotes. I’ve actually decided which one I want to go with,” I said. “I had a structural engineer out here and he drew up the plans. It will be fine.”
“I know it will,” she said, patting my forearm comfortingly. “I just was playing devil’s advocate. Asking all the questions Liam would have asked.” She hesitated, then said, “I heard that Sandy got an offer from the Grander Hotel.”
“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound upset. “I can’t match the salary—even if I didn’t spend money on the remodel.”
“I know.”
“I can only be happy to see her getting such a good job. Think about all the things she could do to take care of her family.”
“She does have a large family.”
“I worry that it will take away from all the work she did building her own business this summer, though,” I said.
“Did she express any hesitation over that?”
“No,” I said with a shrug. “But it’s tough to really get a good read on Sandy’s emotions. You know that.” I paused a moment. “I guess I’ll be looking for a new assistant next spring.” I winced. “Mostly I’m going to miss her company, and all of her family members who come in and help. Especially with Jenn gone, too.”
Frances patted my arm. “Life is full of changes,” she said. “Look at everything you’ve done since you arrived in May.”
“I thought I was building a family,” I said. “Now they’re scattering to the four corners.”
“That’s what families do,” Frances said. She stepped back around the reception desk and looked through the mail. “Fall is a good time to regroup before the harsh winter. It probably is the best time to do your roof repair.”
“Speaking of which, I have to go. I’ll let you know how the approvals go.” I hurried up the three flights of stairs to my apartment and changed quickly. I petted Mal, gave her a treat, and grabbed my purse. Time to find out if the mayor was going to help me with the permits. Mella showed herself for the first time today and slipped outside with me onto the staircase that led from my apartment at the back of the hotel down to the alleyway below. It had been twenty-four hours since we found the body, so it was probably safe for her to play outside again. After all, she was originally an outdoor cat who adopted me and allowed herself to be brought inside. I supposed it couldn’t hurt to let her go visit her animal friends who lived near the McMurphy. I left her on the landing at the top of the stairs, calmly licking a paw.
* * *
DARK CHOCOLATE CINNAMON FUDGE
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
2 cups dark chocolate chips
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup cinnamon chips for a milder flavor
or Red Hots to make it spicy
Put sweetened condensed milk and chocolate chips in a microwavable bowl. Microwave on high for one minute, then remove and let it sit for one minute before stirring until chips are completely melted and chocolate is smooth. (It might take another 30 seconds of microwaving, depending on your unit).
Add vanilla and mix until combined. Add cinnamon chips or Red Hots, stir, and pour or pat into a buttered, parchment-lined, 8-inch pan. Score into ½-inch chunks. Place in refrigerator until completely cool. Once cool, remove from pan, cut along scored lines, and serve. Leftovers should be kept in a covered container in a cool place.
Makes about 32 pieces of fudge.
Chapter 5
“Congratulations!” Frances said.
“Let’s celebrate now.” Mr. Devaney opened up a bottle of champagne. “But not again until the
work is finished,” he added sternly.
“Okay,” I said. I opened a cupboard in my apartment’s kitchen and took down several glasses for him to fill. I had managed to secure the permits needed to create the rooftop deck. When Mr. Devaney handed me a now full glass, I lifted it into the air with a grin. “This is one small step for me, and one giant step for the McMurphy hotel!”
“Here, here,” Frances and Douglas both said, and we all sipped champagne. I wore a sundress, but I had taken my dress shoes off at the door.
“Have some crackers and cheese.” I urged them to eat from the party tray I’d picked up at Doud’s Market on my way home from the historical society’s tea. The salty pepperoni and cheeses looked appealing after an afternoon of cake and cookies.
Mella thought so, too. She had come in from the alley and now sat on the counter, eyeing the platter. I picked her up and put her on the floor. Mal barked with joy and chased Mella up her cat tree. Mella sat in the top carpeted box and twitched her tail at Mal, who looked excited to have gotten the cat’s attention.
“You know, if you played with her for a bit, she might leave you alone,” I said to the cat.
“Cats are solitary creatures by nature,” Frances said. “Although I once had a cat who would greet you at the door like a dog does.”
“This one has a mind of her own,” Mr. Devaney said. He walked over to stroke Mella’s fur. The cat liked the old man and didn’t make a fuss over his attention. “I heard she’s the one who found poor Anthony last night.”
“She did,” I said. “She wasn’t happy with Shane when he collected evidence—or with the bath I had to give her.”
“She’s pretty smart,” Mr. Devaney said. “I’d bet you anything she’ll figure out who the killer is.”
“I won’t take that bet,” I said. “You never know with my pets. But I hope she’s not going to be doing as much roaming for a while. I really worry that my fur babies will end up on the wrong side of a criminal. I need to keep them safe.”