by Nicole Ellis
“What if it has something to do with the vandalism of your truck?” Was someone stalking Wendy? The older woman hunched over in her chair, hugging her arms against her body. Why was she trying to act so nonchalant about the vandalism and note? What was going on here? “You should tell Garrett.”
“No!” Wendy said sharply. “There’s no need to tell him. He already thinks I’m full of drama. This would only add fuel to the fire.” She stood from the table, grabbed the note from Dahlia and ripped it into tiny pieces, which she dumped into the recycling bin. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have to get back to the bookstore?”
“Okay, but if something else happens, let me know. For the record, I really think you should tell the police. If nothing else, it will be on file.”
Wendy nodded, and Dahlia forced herself to walk down the stairs. Leaving Wendy alone and not notifying the authorities seemed wrong. She may have been correct that the police wouldn’t do anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell them. For now, she’d respect Wendy’s wishes, but if anything else happened, she was heading straight for the Candle Beach police station.
18
On Friday night, Garrett waited on the beach log until the fiery sun had sunk below the horizon and every tourist had vacated the area. He had planned a romantic picnic for Dahlia, one that would make any of his heroines swoon with joy. After waiting over an hour for her, he’d started munching at the goodies in the wicker basket. Now, only crumbs remained and the half bottle of champagne had been drained.
He dialed her number for the fourth time since he’d arrived at the beach spot where they’d arranged to meet. “Dahlia, I’m going home now. I’ll talk to you later.” He sighed. “I wish you’d been here, the sunset was beautiful.”
He gathered up the picnic items and trudged back up the hill to his cottage. Things had been going so well between them and he didn’t know what had happened. Had she forgotten they had plans? She had been late for their lunch date earlier in the week, but he didn’t think she’d completely blow off a date. He’d tried to convince himself that her flakier tendencies were just part of her charm, but missing their date was sending warning signals to him.
“You’re still here?” Wendy’s voice rang out from the entrance to Dahlia’s office. “I thought you had a big date with Garrett tonight.”
Dahlia’s eyes shot to the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock? It couldn’t be that late. She’d immersed herself in the online book catalogs, trying to catch up on the latest trends, and had been sucked in by the vast selection. She grabbed her phone. The battery was dead. She checked the time on her computer. It really was past ten.
“Oh my gosh.” She wildly packed up her belongings and stuffed them into the laptop bag. “Garrett’s going to kill me.” He’d been so excited about taking her on a sunset picnic on the beach, and she’d ruined their date.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Garrett’s pretty easygoing about things.”
She glanced back at Wendy and did a double take. The older woman’s eyes were bloodshot and dark bags hung under her eyes. She appeared to have aged ten years since the note had been found on the bookstore’s doorstep.
“Are you okay?”
Wendy waved her hand. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well. Go find Garrett.”
Dahlia wanted to question her more, but she knew she needed to get to Garrett. “Can you lock up?”
Wendy nodded and Dahlia ran for the beach. She scanned the beach from the overlook, focusing in on what they called ‘their’ beach log, but it was empty.
When she got close to his cottage, every light was off. Her heart dropped to her knees, an acid feeling following it. She’d turned over a new leaf by taking responsibility for the bookstore, which she hoped he’d noticed, but now she’d let her work get in the way of their relationship.
As soon as she got home, she plugged in her phone. Her misery increased when she saw she had four missed calls and three voicemails from Garrett. In his first message, he sounded upbeat, asking her if she’d be there soon. In the next two, his voice carried defeat.
Aagghh! She screamed silently. She dialed his number, but no one answered. She rapidly texted an apology and waited. No response.
She waited up as late as she could, but eventually fell asleep on the couch.
The next morning, the first thing Dahlia did when she woke up was to check her phone. Still nothing from Garrett. Her stomach churned. He must be furious with her for missing their date. She left for the Marina Park with her stomach still upset. How had everything gotten so complicated?
When she finished setting up her booth at the summer market, she set out across the lawn to Wendy’s booth. After seeing her bedraggled state the night before, she wanted to check on her. When she reached the furniture booth, Wendy had her back to her.
“Hey,” Dahlia said. “How’s it going?” Wendy had added a few new pieces to her inventory.
She turned around. “Hi.” She busied herself aligning a chair with an oak coffee table.
“Looks like you’ve been hard at work.” Dahlia motioned to the new items.
“Uh-huh,” Wendy said. “I haven’t been sleeping well, so I’ve been working to curb the insomnia.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed her display. She looked as bad as she had the night before, maybe worse.
Dahlia hadn’t known her for very long, but this seemed unusual for her. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Wendy flashed a dazzling smile, reminiscent of her old self.
“Have you received any more notes?” She watched Wendy’s face.
“No, nothing. I told you it was a random thing. Probably some kid playing a prank on me.” She gazed out at the marina. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“It is. They’re forecasting for high eighties today. Are you looking forward to the Founder’s Day celebration next weekend?”
“Definitely. From what I’ve heard, this place will be buzzing with tourists. Maybe some of them will want to furnish their summer homes with my restorations.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Dahlia.
People were starting to straggle in to the market, so Dahlia said goodbye and returned to her booth. Something was definitely amiss with Wendy. She hoped it wasn’t serious. Later, she’d press her again, but for now, she needed all the sales she could get. The Founder’s Day weekend sales had better be as good as she’d heard. Business had improved at the bookstore, but it was almost August and the majority of the tourist income would disappear after Labor Day.
Someone called to her from across the lawn. She looked up and waved at Garrett. He smiled and waved back at her. Her heart beat faster the closer he got. She felt awful about the missed date and had some apologizing to do.
“Garrett, I’m so sorry about missing our dinner date last night.” She came around the booth and leaned against the table’s edge. “I was working on some plans for the bookstore and I completely lost track of time. I tried to call you when I got home, but you didn’t answer.”
“I went to bed early. I left a few voicemails while I was at the beach, but you didn’t respond.” Garrett’s smile had faded.
“My phone was dead and I’d left my charger at home. Do you think you can forgive me? I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.” She put her hand on his arm and searched his face. “I really am sorry. Maybe we can go out tonight instead?”
She thought she heard him sigh before he wrapped his arm around her and smiled.
“Well, I’m glad you were having such a good time with your planning. Tonight would be great. I have to head into the city early tomorrow morning for my flight to New York to see my editor, but we could grab dinner right after the market closes. Does pizza sound good?”
She breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled closer. “I love pizza.”
He released her and looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’ll be a nice day for selling books,” he observed. “Lots of customers and no rain clouds in sight.”
“A rainy day display?” He arched his eyebrow.
“Yeah.” She grinned. “I’m going to paint a rain scene on some wood and then put some rain boots and other items in the front window with some book suggestions for rainy days. I love getting to decorate the front window and change out the displays.” Her elation faded. “I’ll have to wait until Monday now. Everything will be closed by the time I get done with the market today.”
“I could man the booth for you for a few hours,” he offered.
“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s really no problem.” He shrugged. “I used to help Ruth out once in a while at the bookstore’s booth last year, and I’m familiar with mobile payment systems. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’d love to own a bookstore. Why do you think I became a writer?”
Well, if he wanted to spend his Saturday selling books, who was she to deny him that pleasure? She threw her arms around him. “That would be great. I’ll be back in a few hours. Give me a call if you need anything, I won’t be far away.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have all these books sold before you get back.”
She eyed the stacks of books. “Good luck with that.”
“How did everything go here?” Dahlia asked when she returned. The pile of books had dwindled considerably.
“No problem. I didn’t sell everything, but I did sell almost every copy you had of that local author’s cookbook. A crowd of ladies seemed very interested in my description of how to bake the cranberry muffin recipe in the front of the book.”
“Have you ever made cranberry muffins?” Dahlia cocked her head to the side.
“What? You don’t think I could be a baker?” he teased.
“Well, have you?”
“No, but I flipped through the cookbook while I was between customers. It seemed easy enough.” He grinned at her and his eyes danced.
Dahlia laughed and kissed him squarely on the mouth. She could see why the ladies had bought anything he recommended. She sat down in the folding chair, her gaze straying to Wendy’s booth.
It was empty. Dahlia’s stomach clenched. Was Wendy okay?
“Where’s your mother?”
“She sold everything and went home. Said something about a migraine coming on.”
Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief and then remembered her predicament. Garrett hadn’t mentioned anything about the vandalism of Wendy’s truck, so he must not have seen Friday’s edition of the town newspaper. This would be a natural lead-in to tell him about it and bring up the mysterious note.
“Garrett—”
“Excuse me,” a middle-aged woman cut in. “Do you have any more of those Washington Coast cookbooks? My friends told me how wonderful the cranberry muffins looked.” Her gaze was fixed on Garrett, telling Dahlia that the cranberry muffins hadn’t been what the woman’s friends thought looked good.
“I’m sorry ma’am, those were all we had.” Dahlia smiled at her politely. “But I’d be happy to order you a copy.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I was really hoping to get one today.” The woman turned to Garrett. “Do you have anything else you recommend?”
Garrett stifled a laugh, but recovered quickly. “Sure, this book of local history is riveting. Did you know Candle Beach was founded in the early 1900s as a retreat from the city?”
“Wow.” The woman looked at him in awe. “It’s amazing it’s still around.”
“It sure is,” he agreed. He sold her the book and the woman left, no doubt to tell all her friends about her conversation with him.
“You’re a great salesperson,” Dahlia said. “I may need to enlist your help at the bookstore.”
“Anytime,” he said. “I’ll help you pack up and we can head straight from the bookstore to Pete’s Pizza.”
“Looks like I don’t have much to pack up.” She surveyed her inventory. “I can’t believe how much you sold.”
“What can I say, people trust me.” He shot her an easy grin.
“Uh-huh,” she said. She was going to miss having him around while he was in New York.
19
After dinner, Garrett went home to pack for his trip and Dahlia returned to the bookstore. She was determined to get her accounting in order to gain a better idea of her financial standing before the big Founder’s Day weekend. She looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. Had the town actually been founded on the first weekend of August? If not, someone had created a smart ploy to separate tourists from their money, as Founder’s Day weekend fell halfway between the fourth of July and Labor Day.
She heard Wendy banging around upstairs around eight, but didn’t look at her watch again until after ten when someone knocked on the front door. She was about to go get it when Wendy hurried down the stairs and answered it. The commanding voice of Police Chief Lee echoed through the front room.
Dahlia peeked her head around the office door. Chief Lee stood near the front door talking with Wendy.
“Ms. Danville, I’m afraid there’s been a break-in at your summer market booth.”
Wendy was facing Chief Lee with her back turned to Dahlia. Wendy wrapped her sweater tighter against her body and cupped her elbows.
“What do you mean, a break-in? Did they steal something?”
“We’re not sure, ma’am. It looks like the perpetrators focused on vandalizing your wares rather than stealing them.”
“My furniture.” Wendy’s voice lacked any emotion. She lowered herself to sit on a chair. Dahlia had a clear view of her face now, which was devoid of color. Her features had wrinkled and in that moment, she looked a decade older.
“What did they do to my furniture?” Her voice was suddenly full of a sense of urgency.
Chief Lee shook his head. “We’ll need you to come to the booth and help us determine the damage and if anything was stolen.”
“Okay.” She stood. “Let me get some shoes on and I’ll meet you there.”
The policeman left the building and Wendy slowly climbed the stairs to her apartment.
Dahlia closed her computer and waited for her to return. When she heard footsteps come down the stairs, she walked out to the hallway. “I overheard your conversation with Chief Lee,” she said. “I’m coming with you.” She wasn’t taking no for an answer. Her new friend had already been under so much stress and she wasn’t sure how she’d handle this new issue.
Wendy didn’t reply, but she hugged Dahlia and they walked silently out the front door. Dahlia ensured the door latched and locked behind them.
As the brisk night air hit them, Wendy seemed to come out of her catatonic state. Dahlia stopped her a few feet down the sidewalk. “Is there anything I should know? If there’s someone from your past trying to scare you, I’d like to know. I can keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
She sighed. “No, I really can’t think of anyone. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Chief Lee had paused at the street corner to talk with someone on his cell phone. As they approached, he hung up. “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Danville,” he said. “We’ll do everything we can to catch the perpetrator.”
The three of them walked to the Marina Park in silence. The cool, moist air kissed Dahlia’s face. Being out at night invigorated her and combined with her anxiety over the condition of Wendy’s booth, she felt wired and on edge. Muffled music came from the bar, but otherwise the town was quiet. The playground swings floated in the air as a breeze blew them from side to side, the only sign of life in the eerily empty park.
A police officer was guarding the entrance to Wendy’s booth. Yellow tape surrounded the scene and the flashing red and blue lights had attracted a few bystanders. Dahlia, Wendy and the Chief ducked under the tent’s canvas covering and Chief Lee aimed his flashlight on Wendy’s merchandise.
D
ahlia sucked in her breath.
The vandal had flung red paint over half of the furniture and used a sharp object to rip open the cushions of the reupholstered couch, sending tufts of spongy stuffing to the ground. A dream catcher swung drunkenly from the middle support of the tent.
Wendy’s eyes filled with tears. “Who would have done this?” she said softly. She ran her hands over the furniture. Wet paint streaked her fingers like blood and she held them in the air, staring at them, but not seeming to comprehend the devastation wreaked upon her booth.
Dahlia put an arm around her friend, who continued to fixate on the red stains on her hands, as if avoiding the horror of the rest of the booth.
“How did this happen?” Dahlia asked Chief Lee. “I thought there were patrols of the summer market.”
He hung his head, then looked up. “We have patrols, but there are only three of us to monitor the whole town. There was a report of a break-in over at the Lutheran church, but when we arrived, nothing was amiss. When Officer Diaz returned to the market, he discovered Ms. Danville’s booth had been vandalized.”
Dahlia looked over at Officer Diaz. He leaned against the patrol car, with his hands in his pockets, tracing circles in the dirt with the toe of his shoe as he snuck peeks at the group gathered at Wendy’s booth.
“I apologize for this, but does anything look out of place, other than the paint and ripped cushions?” Chief Lee asked.
Wendy scanned the booth as if taking in the full extent of the damage for the first time. Her gaze caught on the dream catcher and any remaining color in her face drained out.
She pointed at the dream catcher. “That’s not mine.”
The police chief regarded her thoughtfully and then walked over to the offensive object. “This?” He poked it with a pencil. Charms on the dream catcher glittered in the lights of the patrol car.
Wendy nodded and the police chief used a plastic evidence bag to remove the dream catcher and string from the tent support pole.