by K. J. Emrick
Chapter Nine
As Cookie entered the back of her shop someone was knocking on the front door. Didn’t anyone respect a “closed” sign anymore? Well. Considering that some people had been avoiding the bakery, it was good to know that others wanted to get their cupcakes and scones no matter what. She put her purse in the kitchen then strolled out to the front.
When she saw who it was, she swore under her breath. Just a few simple curse words her mama had taught her.
Benjamin Roth knocked on her front door again, leaning over to peer inside the front window. He’d probably already seen her, just like she’d seen him. No sense in hiding. Now that she knew he wasn’t the one who broke the glass out of her front door, did she have any reason to avoid him?
Yes. He might be the murderer. Or at least, he might be involved.
But that was exactly the reason why she went to the door to let him in. She needed to know what he had to say for himself. There was so much she didn’t understand. If she was going to clear her name and save her bakery she needed to ask some hard questions, and she needed to ask them of the one man she wanted to have nothing to do with.
“What do you want, Benjamin?”
She held the door open just enough to talk to him, knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to stop him if he really wanted to force his way in. He regarded her quizzically.
“Be reasonable, Karen. Let me in. Are we to conduct business through a door?”
“We aren’t going to be conducting business. I told you, I’m not selling.”
“Perhaps you should see what I’m offering first.”
He held up a piece of folded paper, and Cookie knew it would be an offer. Possibly a generous one. He was still intent on buying her out.
“Why do you want this property so badly? Is it really so that you can build a strip mall here or is there some other reason?” Cookie decided to get right to the point. No sense beating around the bush any longer than she had to.
A shadow passed over Benjamin’s face. Some thought that he tried to keep hidden from her. Something to do with buying the land…
Of course.
“You’re such good friends with the mayor, aren’t you Benjamin?” She was starting to see a little more of the puzzle now. “Can’t the mayor just rezone this stretch off Main Street? Certainly he could. Not like there’s a lot of people living here on Anthem Way. He could make it so I couldn’t have this bakery here at all, if he changed the zoning.”
Roth didn’t even try to work up a smile. Through the barely open door, he glared at Cookie. “Let’s just say, Karen, that money doesn’t solve all of my problems.”
“What money?” She knew she was pressing her luck, but this was her livelihood she was fighting for. “Didn’t you lose a good percentage of your bank account in that recent pyramid scheme—?”
“Enough,” he snapped, finally pushing the door open and stepping into the bakery. Cookie backpedaled, making sure to keep distance between him and her. “I have had enough. Never have I worked so hard for such a rinky-dink little establishment as this. I’m offering you a goodly sum for this place, and we are going to discuss those terms, now!”
He slapped the folded bundle of paper down on the table nearest to him, thankfully keeping more than an arm’s length from Cookie. She still had to wonder who murdered Julien. She couldn’t be sure it was Sweeney. It could still be the man standing in front of her. If it was, what lengths would he go to, to get what he wanted?
Of course, poison was a coward’s tool, and from what she’d seen of Mister Benjamin Roth, he certainly fit the bill.
She looked down at the papers on the table. “Where are you getting all of this money, hmm? If you lost so much to that pyramid scheme you got sucked into, then where are you getting any sort of cash flow to pay for my bakery?”
“That is none of your concern. Suffice to say I’m good for it, and leave it at that. Now, you are going to look at this offer, and by God, you are going to sell me this building before I—”
He raised his hand in a fist above his head.
And then a muffin bounced off his nose.
“You leave my grandmother alone!”
Cookie spun around, surprised to see Clarissa standing there, armed with two more day-old muffins. Walnut chip. Good and heavy, even if they wouldn’t do more than embarrass Benjamin.
His face turned red. He lowered his hand, staring down at the muffin, then back over at Clarissa.
She raised another muffin, ready to make good on her threat.
With a deep breath, Benjamin straightened the cuffs of his sleeves, and then cleared his throat. “Clearly, I’ve overstayed my welcome. My offer is on the table, Karen. Quite literally. Good day.”
He turned, and walked out, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went.
Cookie first ran to the door and made sure to lock it again—not that the lock had done any good when Sweeney tried to break in—and then she ran straight to her granddaughter and caught her in a huge hug.
“That,” she said to Clarissa, “was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’
“Aw, c’mon.” The girl was obviously uncomfortable with the praise, but she returned the hug in kind. “I just didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”
“Neither did I.”
They heard the sound of little dog toenails scrabbling down the stairs and soon enough Cream stuck his fuzzy tan head around the corner. He looked up at Clarissa, and then at Cookie, and then turned his attention on the door where Benjamin Roth had just exited.
Bracing his feet against the floor, he let out a series of yipping, barking accusations against the man.
“That’s my brave boy,” Cookie praised her furry friend, even if Roth was already gone. “You give him a piece of your mind.”
Cream sneezed and sat back on his haunches.
“Grandma?”
Clarissa was over at the table where Benjamin Roth had dropped his unwanted offer, sitting down with the papers spread out in front of her. Cookie sighed. No sense in trying to keep the girl in the dark now.
They sat together for a while, talking over what was happening. The unpaid bills. The limited savings in Cookie’s bank account. The fact that Benjamin Roth wanted to buy the bakery, and the land it sat on, which would leave her homeless and without a job even though it would take care of her money issues. For a while.
“I don’t know, Grandma.” Clarissa pointed to the number quoted near the bottom of the third page. “This is, like, very generous. Hard to believe he just wants to build a strip mall here. I mean, I like going to the mall as much as anybody does, but for this much money he should be putting up a casino or something.”
It was a lot of money. Cookie hadn’t wanted to know what Roth was offering. She’d been afraid if she looked at the number then she’d be tempted to accept it. Now she knew she was right. Because she was very tempted. Take the money, and start over.
No. She couldn’t just give up on this place. Even the money that Roth was offering her would never allow her to recreate a shop like this, full of memories and faithful customers. She was too old to start over. This was where she wanted to be.
Did any of that matter, if she couldn’t pay her bills? If she stuck to her guns and lost her shop anyway, where would she be then?
“I just don’t know what to do,” she admitted to Clarissa. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place and I don’t know which way to turn. I’m sorry, honey. I brought you here this summer so you could have some time away from all the stress in your life, and now look. I’ve brought you away from your problems, and into mine!”
Clarissa shrugged. “Everyone has problems, Gram. I’ve got problems, you’ve got problems. Mom has problems, too, she’s just too stubborn to admit it.”
“Now, don’t talk about your mother like that,” Cookie scolded the teen. “She’s trying her hardest.”
“She’s trying to make things good for her new man. Stepdaddy Joseph.
We used to be a family, me and mom. Now I’m the outsider.” She folded her arms and slouched in the chair, the pain in her voice hard to mistake. “I’ll take your troubles any day. You get paid for yours.”
She tapped the papers, at the ridiculously large sum Benjamin Roth was offering.
Cookie reached deep inside. She remembered her own teenage years, and then her daughter’s, and tried to look at her granddaughter’s life in the same light. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. Perhaps that was what the problem was. Everyone was trying to treat Clarissa like she was the same as everyone else. She wasn’t. She was her own person. She would never be anyone but who she was.
Laying her hand over Clarissa’s, Cookie sighed out a long breath. “You are an amazing young woman. Your mother knows that. She just doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to tell you the things she feels. Maybe you’ll have to be the one to reach out to her. Hmm?”
It was sort of turning the issue on its head, but maybe that was what Clarissa needed. A reason to be the one to take charge of the relationship, and help herself. She wasn’t going to accept help from anyone else, that was for certain.
“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” Clarissa said. Still, Cookie could see the wheels turning in her young granddaughter’s mind. “What about you, Grandma? What are you going to do about your problem?”
“Well. I don’t know, yet. What would you do, in my shoes?”
“Take the money.”
“Just like that?”
Clarissa shrugged. “I’d talk to my friends about it first, I guess. The ones I trust. They always help me when I don’t know what to do.”
Getting help from friends. Well. That actually was good advice.
“Don’t you have a best friend you can talk to, Grandma?”
“Why yes, I do. You know what, dearest granddaughter? I think you’re right. Talking this out with someone might be just what I need.”
“Well, talking about it with someone your own age, you mean.”
“Right. My own age. Old and senile.”
They laughed together, and everything seemed to be a little better already. She had a smart granddaughter. If she could get Clarissa back together with her mother, then that would be a great thing indeed.
With that in mind she headed to her friend’s house.
***
Cookie walked in the sunshine of late afternoon without really feeling it. Too many questions weighed her down. New ones crowded in among the ones that had been dogging her for days. Like, had the police gone to arrest Sweeney yet? Had she done the right thing in confronting him? If he tried to leave before the police got there… what did they call that? Skipping town. If he tried to skip town because she had wanted to be stubborn and take care of her own problems…
Well. Jerry would just have to forgive her. Wasn’t that what people falling in love did for each other?
Oh.
She stopped for a moment before she picked up her step, hoping none of the people walking by on the sidewalk saw her little smile and guessed at where her thoughts had led her. Love. Jerry. Her.
Nonsense. She rolled her eyes and picked up her pace on her way to Jamie’s house. Just sheer and utter nonsense. People their age didn’t fall in love. Especially not a woman like her, who had been spurned time and time again by those of the stronger sex.
Jerry had kissed her, though.
Well, fine. That didn’t equal love. It equaled attraction. It wasn’t the same thing.
Only, she knew what she’d been feeling every time he was close to her. And when he held her hand it stirred up emotions she hadn’t felt since she was Clarissa’s age.
If that wasn’t love, what was it?
A scowl replaced the smile. She had a murder to puzzle out, and a shop to save, and oh yes, the relationship between her daughter and granddaughter needed serious attention. Did she really have time for love?
Because, yes, if she was being honest with herself then love was exactly what was happening between her and Jerry. It might not be the deep love of the poets, not yet, but it was the real thing. Not romance novel love. Rather, it was the confusing version that people felt in real life.
Somehow, that made everything else seem not so bad.
Cookie passed people on the street. Most said hello. Some avoided eye contact. People were divided about what to think of her now. She understood, but that didn’t mean her knickers weren’t in a twist over it. She’d lived here for ages. People should know she would never hurt a fly, let alone kill a man.
Then again, would she ever have thought such a thing about Benjamin Roth before now? Well. Maybe.
Hopefully, Clarissa would be right and talking to Jamie would help make everything clearer for her. Cookie certainly hoped so. They’d been good friends for a long time. They’d share a pint of ice cream and at the end of the visit, Cookie would not feel sorry for herself anymore. Yes. That sounded nice.
Jamie lived in a one floor cottage that was surrounded by low shrubs that made it impossible to see inside. Last Cookie knew, Jamie had hired a gardener to trim the things to a ruler’s edge. She couldn’t picture her friend doing that herself. She wasn’t exactly the kind of woman who enjoyed getting her hands dirty.
The place was a gaudy shade of yellow, and the white trim only made the color of the paint harsher on the eyes. The car in the driveway told her that Jamie was home. So did the open front door.
It was a warm day, and it wasn’t uncommon for people in Widow’s Rest to leave their homes open to the breezes, trusting in the screen doors to keep the bugs out and let the heat in. One of the great things about living in a small town was that you could trust your neighbors not to take advantage of an open door.
Used to be you could trust you wouldn’t get murdered here, too, but apparently that was out the window in light of recent events.
Cookie let herself in, about to call out to Jamie, when she heard a man’s voice. A man she recognized immediately.
Jerry.
Her heart shriveled in her chest. Jerry? In Jamie’s house?
Cookie tiptoed to the kitchen doorway and stood so she could peek in at Jerry and Jamie, standing in there very close together. Jamie was in that blue dress that flattered every one of her curves but Jerry was in his uniform. Maybe this was just a work call. Sure. He walked here as part of his beat around town.
What were they saying?
Jamie stood dangerously close to Jerry, playing with a button on his uniform. Anger flared up in Cookie. At Jamie, because she knew how much Cookie liked Jerry… but at him, too. After what he had started to build with her, she couldn’t imagine why he would be here. Like this!
“Jerry, you know how I feel about you,” she watched as Jamie said.
Jamie moved her body even closer to Jerry. Cookie wanted to rush in there and scream at both of them, only she didn’t want to let them know she’d been standing here, spying. Jamie was throwing herself at Jerry. Cookie frowned, feeling her anger evaporate like so much hot wind. She couldn’t compete with Jamie’s youth – at least compared to Cookie – or her skinny body or her come-hither eyes or her brazen way of coming on to men. Cookie looked down at her own body. She looked like a sack of flour in comparison.
Jamie could have just about any man she wanted. Why did she want the one man that Cookie wanted? Horrible thoughts filled Cookie’s head. Was Jamie even her real friend? Maybe she’d just pretended all this time to get close to Jerry. Maybe she… she…
At that moment Jamie looked past Jerry’s shoulder and her eyes danced with amusement to see Cookie standing there, watching. Cookie pulled back, but not fast enough.
Her heart beat loudly in her chest. They didn’t come find her. Didn’t call her name. No. Now that Jamie knew that Cookie was standing there she wanted her to see this. She wanted this to hurt.
And it did.
Cookie had never felt so low in her life. Betrayed by the two people she cared about most.
She tiptoed back out t
he front door to stand on the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face. How could someone be so cruel?
Cookie trudged back in the direction of the bakery with every step feeling like she was walking through cake batter. She didn’t feel the sunshine at all now. She didn’t notice how nice the day was. As far as she was concerned it was raining down in buckets, right on her head.
The walk back to her place seemed even longer than the walk to Jamie’s house. She found herself out of breath half way back and stopped to rest on a bench in the park not far from her bakery. She was a wreck. That’s what she was. Out of shape. Ugly. Old. Useless.
Yes, she was feeling sorry for herself. She knew it for what it was but she had a right to. Her world was coming apart and she had no idea how to stop things from going crazy. First her business, then the murder, now her best friend and the man she thought she… thought she…
It was too much.
She was selling her business. Sitting there on the park bench, trying to catch her breath, trying to keep the tears from falling, she made her decision. After the muffin mix was ruined with too much salt, there was only one thing to do. Throw it out.
She was going to sell her business. Move out of town. Give up, essentially. Someone else could figure out the mystery of who killed Julien. Just like someone else could figure out the mystery of a man’s heart. She was done.
Cookie took a deep breath then stood. She would go home, and bake something. Baking was the one thing she had left in her life that wouldn’t disappoint her. Well. That, and her real best friend. A little dog named Cream.
She wondered, on the way back home, what she would tell Clarissa.
Chapter Ten
Finally, back at the bakery, Cookie washed her hands and prepared to take some comfort in baking. She took her time getting down all the ingredients she would need to place them on the counter. Flour, butter, salt, vanilla, and voila! You had cupcakes.
“If only life were this simple.”
She could make eggs into custard. She could turn sour milk into a great chocolate cake. She could take yeast and flour and create bread. There was no end of what she could make, or create, or fix, standing here in this kitchen.