by Liz Mugavero
“Of course. Let me go get that for you.” Stan went behind the counter and got an apple puff for Daisy. She put it on a special pink doggie plate and brought it over. Victoria carefully broke it into pieces and fed it to the dog, who daintily ate it.
Smiling, Stan left them to it. She walked around greeting people and their dogs, making sure each pup had what they liked. The wagging tails made it all worthwhile. People and dogs passed through in an endless stream, some to stay and sip coffee, chat, and let their dogs play together, and others to pick up treats on their way home to their babies. She’d seen it happen before during collective trauma—people looking for solace in the normal, in each other, in familiar places. On this cold winter morning, instead of choosing to stay in their beds and hide from the tragedy of last evening, they were out and about and looking for ways to make themselves smile.
She couldn’t deny that hearing the praise of the townspeople felt wonderful. As she and Brenna made their way around the café checking in with people, meeting new pets, and collecting dishes, she heard comments like What a lovely place! Such a fabulous idea … who knew Frog Ledge was so trendy? What did my Coco ever do without this place?
“Looks like we’re a hit,” Brenna said at one point.
“Looks like,” Stan agreed. “It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little … off. Worrying about Char, wondering what had happened to Ray and Uncle Seamus, thinking about poor Harold Dewey—all of it was enough to take away the Christmas cheer and happy feelings about her new store. And the worry for Char topped her list. For as independent as her friend was, she’d be lost without Ray. And Stan couldn’t deny that the longer Ray was out of touch, the worse she felt. The worse they all felt.
“This is so lovely,” one woman said to her. “What a great idea. I’ve never heard of such a place before, but I knew my Bruno would love it.”
They both looked at Bruno, a little Maltese whose big name belied his fluffy, tiny appearance. He gnawed on a stocking-shaped cookie, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Stan smiled. “I’m so glad. Help yourself to some food. And come again, okay?”
After she’d said hello to everyone, she grabbed a couple of empty doggie water bowls and retreated behind the counter where Brenna was filling holes in trays.
“People love these new apple ones Kyle made,” Brenna said, pointing to the Christmas tree–shaped cookies. “Or I guess I should say the dogs love them. But everyone wants to try those.”
“Good,” Stan said, refilling the bowls. “I think he added something special to the recipe. I’m going to have to get it from him.”
“Excuse me, Stan?”
She turned to find Julius Akin, an elderly gentleman who walked everywhere around town with his cocker spaniel, Rufus, holding an empty cream container. “Hi, Julius. What can I do for you?”
“You’re out of cream,” he said with a touch of sorrow. “I love my half-and-half. Milk just won’t do it.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry. Let me run out back and get you some—” She stopped when Brenna shook her head.
“We’re out,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I forgot all about it.”
“Shoot. I can run over to the general store,” Stan said.
“Are you sure? I can go.”
“No, you man the counter. You’re better at it.” Stan winked. “Can you hang on for ten minutes, Julius? I need to go grab some. We’ve had a run on half-and-half, I guess.”
Julius shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really have anywhere to be, and Rufus is playing.” They both looked over to where Rufus and Louie each held the end of a rope toy. Despite his smaller size, Rufus was winning.
“Great. I’ll be right back.” Stan hurried out back, grabbed her coat, and hurried to her car, intent on being gone the least amount of time possible.
Chapter Seventeen
When Stan pushed open the door of the general store, Abby glanced up from behind the counter. Her face lit up when she saw Stan.
“Morning,” Stan said, making a beeline for the refrigerator section.
“Good morning! Hey, wait a second.” Abby rose and motioned her closer.
Defeated, Stan slowed and turned back to the counter. “Yeah? I’m in a hurry, Abby. I have customers waiting.”
Abby waved her off. “The grand opening was postponed. I heard all about it. You can relax a bit today.”
“Actually, I’m open. And pretty busy—”
“So what’s the real story about what happened last night? I heard someone murdered that poor schmuck Harold Dewey,” Abby said, as if Stan hadn’t even spoken.
Stan sucked in a breath. “Abby. There’s been no confirmation of that. If it is true—and it’s still very much an if—the police will confirm it.”
“It’s just too bad the wrong guy was in the suit,” Abby continued. At this rate, she may as well be having the conversation with herself, for all that she was listening to Stan. “That no-good Seamus McGee deserved it more than Harold, if you ask me.” She shot a sly glance at Stan and leaned forward over the counter. “Sorry, dear. I know you’re almost part of that family, but it’s true. Seamus is not their best asset.”
Stan raised an eyebrow. Abby could be rough on people, but this was a bit much, even for her. “That’s harsh, no?”
Abby barked out a laugh. “Harsh? Seamus is an irresponsible train wreck of a man. At least with Harold, you knew what you were getting. But with Seamus, it’s all blarney. Nothing underneath.” Her eyes flashed with something Stan couldn’t quite read. “He’s been a menace since the day he was born.” She stood to her full height again and straightened her Christmas vest. “Anyway, I’m guessing no one’s heard from him? I heard he and Ray apparently went MIA.”
“I haven’t heard anything today,” Stan said, noncommittal. She moved down the aisle again and found the creamer section. Grabbing her usual quart of half-and-half, she frowned at the price. Almost five dollars. She wondered if Abby had mislabeled the shelf.
When she returned to the counter, Abby continued as if there’d never been a break in the conversation.
“So someone would’ve had to poison him, right? Harold, that is. I mean, that’s the only way this would’ve happened. My goodness. What’s this world coming to?” She shook her head.
“I don’t know,” Stan said. “But did your half-and-half prices go up?”
Abby nodded. “All my prices went up, unfortunately.”
“They did? How come?”
Abby shrugged. “Food is expensive these days. We all have to live, you know. I heard poor Izzy is being questioned about her lovely beverages. That must’ve given her a scare, especially after what happened last year.”
Stan never ceased to be amazed at how fast word traveled around this town. The fact that Abby knew all of this left her bewildered. Plus, she still wanted to get more clarity on why all of Abby’s prices had risen, but she was distracted by whatever else Abby was talking about in reference to Izzy. Which was probably what Abby wanted. She sighed and gave in, handing over the money. “What happened last year?”
“You never heard that story?” Abby got a glint in her eye that Stan recognized. She loved to be the one to share news for the first time, even if it was old news. “Well, Harold did odd jobs around town when he was here. He wasn’t here all the time, mind you. He went down to New York every spring to work with his friends. Something with cars, I don’t know. But here, he took odd jobs. And he got Izzy to let him do some handyman duties at the café. Then she caught him with his hand in the till.” Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Fired him on the spot. Harold swore up and down that he’d had a relapse with the drink, needed a quick fix, and that he’d never done it before. She didn’t care. Frankly, I’d have done the same. He was angry. And since he’d fallen off the alleged wagon he was on, things went south. He even slurred her around town. Racially.” Abby wiggled her eyebrows at Stan to make sure she understood.
Stan did, and a wave of d
islike for the deceased Harold Dewey washed over her. Bigots made her angry. And it ratcheted up when her friend was the target. “That’s terrible,” Stan said. “If I know Izzy, she held her head high and ignored it.” But had she? Izzy didn’t tolerate that sort of thing well. And why should she?
“Well, she tried. But it was difficult. Honestly, I’ve never seen a temper on that girl, but I saw one after that happened,” Abby said. “And it wasn’t pretty.”
Chapter Eighteen
Stan left the general store, her mind racing with uneasy thoughts. Izzy had a negative history with Harold and never mentioned it once last night. Why would she keep that from her? Is that why Jessie wanted to know if Izzy had seen Harold around town since he’d been back? Maybe she thought he’d come to her place to cause more trouble, and Izzy had taken action? And what was up with Abby’s vitriol toward Seamus? Head down, thoughts swirling, Stan headed to her car, which she’d parked on the street in front of the store, clutching her container of half-and-half. She didn’t see Miss Viv rushing down the sidewalk, arms full of packages, until she bumped right into her. Miss Viv let out a cry of surprise as the packages tumbled to the ground and various items of clothing spilled out.
“I’m so sorry!” Stan exclaimed, reaching down to help her scoop up the bags and boxes.
“Don’t worry, dear.” Miss Viv knelt also, but she seemed a bit wobbly. Stan reached out to steady her. Miss Viv reached for something small that had rolled away. A cigarette, Stan saw, but on closer look she realized it was an electronic one rather than a real one.
“I’m quitting smoking,” Miss Viv said apologetically. “Seamus hates it.”
“Well, it’s probably a good thing if you do. Let me get this.” Stan began gathering up the items.
“Really, you don’t—”
“I insist.” Stan picked up a dress with rhinestones down the front and brushed it off. “Have you been to my shop yet? Your sister is there with Daisy.”
“Oh, goodness, I’m so late.” Miss Viv glanced at her watch. “I’ll head over there next.”
“Good. She’s worried. This is so pretty,” Stan commented, tucking a purple sweater back in a bag next to a coat. Was that cashmere? It certainly felt like it. She glanced at the names on the bags as she stood and handed them back to Miss Viv. Luna’s Boutique. A high-end shop from a neighboring town, one with a much more affluent population than Frog Ledge.
“Thank you.” Miss Viv preened a bit, fluffing up her scarf. “I’ve waited a long time to buy such decadent clothing.”
“It’s lovely. Is it for a special occasion?”
Miss Viv hesitated. “Sort of.” She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby and possibly listening. The few other people scurrying down the sidewalk weren’t paying them the slightest bit of attention. “I’m taking a trip.”
“You are?” Stan’s radar went up. It seemed like odd timing for her to be planning a trip, with Seamus technically still missing. Was she meeting him somewhere? What if she knew where he was right now? “To where?”
“We’re going to Turks and Caicos. And we may stay there,” she blurted out.
“Turks … wait. We? We who?” Stan asked.
Miss Viv frowned. “Me and Seamus, of course.”
“But … when? I mean, his location is a bit up in the air right now, no?”
“I know, he’s not been in touch in a couple of days. But he’s coming back. I know he is. And we’re leaving right after Christmas. I can’t wait. We’ve been waiting for a chance to be together for so many years, and now we finally have it. There’s no way he would let anything ruin that now.”
She sounded so hopeful, almost childlike. Stan’s heart broke for her. But she was also hearing warning bells dinging loudly in her head. “Miss Viv. You haven’t heard from Seamus? You’re sure?” Maybe there was something to her gut instinct that he was the key here. Maybe he was trying to disappear. But why?
“Not since he went to Boston, no. Of course, I’m sure.” Miss Viv’s tone changed to slightly defensive, and Stan smiled to put her at ease.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping he’d called you,” she said, hoping she sounded properly disappointed. “Your trip sounds so romantic. You two sound like you’ve had quite the love story. I’d love to hear more about it. Like why you’ve been waiting so long to be together.” It wasn’t a total lie. Stan enjoyed a good ill-fated lovers story as much as anyone. She just had an ulterior motive for asking about this one.
Miss Viv sighed, her eyes going dreamy and unfocused. “We’ve loved each other since fifth grade,” she said. “Ever since he beat up that bully Tommy Higgins when he pushed me down and pulled up my skirt at recess, to make everyone laugh.”
“Ouch,” Stan said sympathetically. “That does sound like the foundation for a long-term love affair.”
“He was so mad at Tommy,” Miss Viv agreed. “I knew any boy who could be so chivalrous was worth holding on to. But then things … went wrong as we got older. We went our separate ways, and Seamus got married. I never stopped loving him.” Her eyes got watery, and Stan forgot for a moment that she was looking for information, caught up in the sense of loss Miss Viv must’ve experienced when she found out that the only boy she’d ever loved belonged to someone else.
“We still kept in touch, though. And after his wife died, we started seeing each other again. It was like we’d never been apart. Then, well, he got in some trouble and moved to Ireland with the boys. He told me I should forget him, that he could never come back here to live full time. But I told him I was sick of his stupidity, that I loved him and I’d do whatever it took. So we’ve been seeing each other every winter and summer for the past forty-odd years.”
“That’s quite a commitment,” Stan said. “I’m impressed, Miss Viv. Why did he have to go to Ireland?”
Miss Viv’s hand fluttered in the breeze, dismissing the question. “Bad business dealings. And he said it was easier to make money there.”
“So how come you didn’t move there with him?”
“It just didn’t make sense for me. And I had other commitments too. Victoria and I were here helping with our parents’ farm, and then as our parents got older we had to care for them. It was a lot of work. But now they’re gone, and our land had to be sold. All we’re left with is that drafty old house, and I tell Victoria all the time we need to get rid of it. And Seamus wants to leave Ireland permanently. It’s all falling into place, after so long! And with him coming into some money, it makes it a bit easier.”
“Money?” Stan asked casually, her ears perking up. “That sounds exciting.”
“It is! He already got some of it. And he’s such a love that he gave me some to shop with and buy whatever I wanted. He’s so thoughtful like that.”
“Was it an inheritance or something?”
Miss Viv chuckled. “Oh no. His family isn’t wealthy. No, it’s due to his work. He’s getting some kind of bonus or promotion. But you mustn’t tell anyone, dear. It’s still all being worked out.”
“Of course not,” Stan said. “What kind of work does he do?”
Another frown. “It’s a global business,” she said finally. “He’s very important.”
Before Stan could prod her further, a voice behind them made them both turn. “Well, Vivian O’Sullivan. I’m surprised you’re out and about. I figured you’d be pining for your love.” Abby’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on either of them.
Miss Viv glared at her. “Abby, you really should learn how to be nicer to people,” she said. “Being mean all the time is not very becoming.”
“Oh, go cry to your big sister,” Abby fired back. “She’ll come fight your battles for you. Stop being so pathetic. No wonder Seamus never married you.”
Stan’s mouth dropped open. “Abby!”
Abby focused on her. “Like I told you earlier, there are certain people within the family you’d do well staying away from.”
“Now you wait a second,” Miss Viv said indignantly
. “My Seamus is a good man. And he’s successful now, so you’re just jealous he didn’t pick you all those years ago!”
“Successful? That’s hilarious!” Abby leaned forward, jabbing a finger at Miss Viv. “He won’t be successful when we sue the pants off him! He’s left us in financial ruin. I’ve had to raise all my prices in my store just to try to make ends meet. And he shouldn’t get away with it!”
The two ladies glared at each other. The standoff would’ve been amusing if Stan didn’t think they were about to start pulling each other’s hair.
“Whoa,” Stan said, holding up her hands like she was separating two boxers in a ring. “Miss Viv, let’s get going. Abby looks like she has someplace to be.” She raised her eyebrows at Abby.
“That’s right. I’m on my break.” Abby turned in a huff and walked away.
Stan watched her go, then turned back to Miss Viv. “What on earth was that about? Why does she want to sue Seamus? And what do you mean, he didn’t pick her? And how did he leave them in financial ruin?” Her head swirled with questions, but at least she had an answer about the half-and-half. Apparently, that was Seamus’s fault too.
“We hate each other,” Miss Viv said matter-of-factly. “Always have. We both loved Seamus when we were kids. Seamus never liked Abby. She always resented me for getting him.” She straightened defiantly, fluffing her scarf again. “And now that he’s successful, like I said, she can see what she’s missing out on.”
“But why does she want to sue him?” Stan pressed.
Miss Viv looked blank. “I have no idea. Did she say that? I must’ve missed it.”
Stan bit back a sigh. Liam and Declan were right about Miss Viv being flighty. “It’s okay. Maybe I misheard,” she said. “Do you need help getting home with your things?”
“No, dear. I’ll be fine. Thank you! It was lovely to see you.” She waved gaily, then set off again. Stan watched her until she disappeared around a corner.