by Mary Maxwell
Before she could get too far with that train of thought, I interjected a few words of encouragement about the book fair.
“Oh, thank you, Kate,” she said when I finished. “I always get pretty nervous about these big special events. And then, in the end, they always go just fine.”
“Let’s keep our fingers crossed,” I said. “And don’t worry about the letter you found. Frank Prevost usually eats breakfast at Sky High, so I’ll see if he comes in tomorrow. Either way, I’ll do my best to unravel the mystery for you.”
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, while Harper managed the dining room like a skillful juggler and Julia prepared breakfast orders for the hungry patrons, I sat at my desk in the office with the envelope I’d received from Ivy. Since the Sky High paperwork was under control for the first time in weeks, I decided to spend a few minutes contemplating the peculiar collection of items.
I cleared a space in the center of my desk, removed everything from the envelope and reviewed the items again: copies of the unsigned letter, the old black-and-white photograph, the hand-drawn map of Crescent Creek, the creased newspaper clipping and the Sky High order ticket.
I planned to ask Harper to check the credit card receipts later in the day to see if she could locate a voucher that corresponded to the ticket’s date and time. If she found a match, it might provide the name of someone to question.
After returning the Sky High ticket to the envelope, I picked up the photograph and read the notation on the back: CAS and WAS, Pennant Hill Children’s Home. I didn’t recognize the name of the facility, so I did a quick search online. Within a few seconds, I found archived information about a former residential home in a small Texas town for orphans and wards of the state.
This is intriguing, I thought. A picture of two parentless children found with a letter that’s apparently addressed to a—
“Kate?”
I jumped at the sound of Julia’s voice.
“Oh, shoot!” she said apologetically. “I thought you heard me knock.”
I shook my head and pointed at the computer. “I was reading something. What’s up?”
She gave me a good-natured wink. “There’s a very handsome man on the phone for you.”
I felt my heart flutter softly in my chest. “Zack Hutton?”
She nodded, flashing a million-watt smile. “Line one. Unless you’d like me to take a message.”
I shooed her from the doorway and reached for the phone. After a deep breath and a quick glance in the mirror, I lifted the receiver and punched the blinking button.
“This is Kate,” I said, trying to sound calm and radiant. “How can I help you?”
A low, manly chuckle came over the line. “That depends,” Zack said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, hey there!” I felt my cheeks redden. “How are you, Mr. Photographer?”
He laughed again. “I’m doing great, thanks. I was calling about our plans for dinner tonight.”
Zack and I had met earlier in the year when the local newspaper published a feature article about Sky High Pies. When he’d stopped by one day to snap a couple of quick pictures to accompany the story, I was captivated by his handsome face, unreserved zest for life and casual ease. A few days after our initial meeting, Blanche Speltzer, the oldest resident of Crescent Creek and its newest matchmaker, had decided Zack and I would make ideal clients for her new enterprise, Whispering Wanda’s World of Romance. At the party announcing the business, Zack had confessed that he’d intended to ask me out to dinner. I was excited by the announcement. But between his work schedule as a freelance photographer and my duties at Sky High, it had taken an eternity to find an evening that would work for our first official dinner date.
“I made seven o’clock reservations at Luigi’s,” he said. “Does that sound okay?”
“It’s perfect. Do you mind if I meet you there?”
“Well, uh…” He hesitated briefly and I worried that my question had somehow deflated his chivalrous intentions. “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll see you there at seven.”
“I’m really looking forward to it,” I said. “And I hope you don’t mind taking separate cars. I need to run a few errands after I finish up here this afternoon. In case they take longer than expected, it would be easier to meet at the restaurant if I’m running a bit behind schedule.”
“Not a problem, Kate. I actually like independent women.”
“Well, that’s perfect because I like independent men!”
After exchanging a few more teasing comments, I went back to the Walter Shipp death threat. I was examining the notes and symbols on the back of the letter when Harper knocked on the door.
“Yoo-hoo!” she called in her usual cheerful tone. “You wanted to know when Frank Prevost came in for breakfast, right?”
I smiled. “Is he here?”
“Just like clockwork,” Harper said. “Every morning at nine-fifteen.”
After slipping the duplicate letters and related items back into the envelope, I zipped out to the dining room. I spotted Frank Prevost at his customary table with his usual breakfast: two eggs scrambled, wheat toast, decaf coffee and a slice of Perfectly Peachy Blueberry Pie. He came in weekday mornings for a bite to eat after his assistant at the UPS store arrived for her shift. He used the time to read the local newspaper and flirt shamelessly with Inez Roller, a single woman about his age who also stopped by Sky High with the same frequency.
“Morning, Frank!”
He glanced up from the Crescent Creek Gazette. “Hey, Katie! How are you?”
“I’m great, thanks. Is your breakfast okay?”
He nodded. “Perfect as always!”
“That’s good.” Inez was looking our way, so I gave her a wave and she nodded before going back to the menu. “Do you mind if I ask a quick question, Frank?”
“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”
“This might sound a little strange,” I began, “but I wanted to ask you about a young woman who was at the library.”
He frowned. “You got someone tailing me, Katie?”
“Oh, no!” I said. “Nothing like that. Ivy mentioned that you stopped in yesterday.”
“That’s right. I had to return a book. Why do you ask?”
“Do you remember the young woman that you talked to briefly? She was dressed in black and—”
“Her name’s Annabeth,” he said. “She’s visiting from somewhere back east, and asked me to recommend a place that carries foreign newspapers.”
I smiled. “On a first-name basis, huh?”
He squared his shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a handsome guy. Some women can’t resist my charms.”
I glanced over at Inez. She was still watching us from behind the Sky High menu. When she realized that I was looking her way again, she quickly lifted the laminated sheet.
“No doubt, Casanova.” I gave him a wink. “Have you asked Inez out yet? She seems pretty interested.”
He blushed. “Not yet, but I plan to real soon. Although she may be out of my league.”
I shook my head. “Not at all, Frank. I think you should go for it!”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely! I get the sense that’s she interested in you, too.”
His eyes gleamed. “Really?”
“Call it female intuition, but I think you should ask her out.”
He gulped, wiped his forehead with a napkin and shifted in his chair. “When the time’s right,” he said, “I’ll make my move.”
“Sounds good, Frank. Do you mind one more question about the young woman at the library?”
He checked his watch. “Just the one,” he said, reaching for his coffee. “I’m due back at the store in twenty minutes.”
“Of course,” I said. “I wanted to know if she asked you anything else? Maybe questions about Crescent Creek or someone that lives here?”
He sipped the decaf. “Can’t say that she did, Katie. She really only asked about newspap
ers. I suggested she try that little boutique over on Maple, the one that sells imported candy and whatnot. Then she told me to have a good day and went back to where she’d been sitting with some fellow.”
“Oh, really?” A familiar tingle skittered down my spine; the sense that an important clue was close at hand. “Who was it?”
Frank leaned toward me. “Well, now,” he whispered. “Looks like this is your lucky day, Katie.” He nodded inconspicuously at a bearded blond guy sitting at a table near the fireplace. “That’s the fellow right over there.”
CHAPTER 5
As I started across the dining room, Harper suddenly rushed over and grabbed my elbow.
“I’m so sorry, Katie,” she said quietly. “Are you going over to talk to the blond guy?”
“I was actually,” I said. “Unless you need something.”
She sighed remorsefully. “No, but he asked to speak with you a few minutes ago. I was on my way to the office to tell you when the Wednesday Walking Club swept through the door and said they were in a hurry.” She swiveled her gaze toward a table of chattering retirees dressed in matching track suits and knit caps. “Someone up in Eldorado Springs challenged them to a competition and they’re—”
“Take a breath, sweetie.” I smiled as she shrugged. “What about the guy by the fireplace?”
“Oh, sorry!” she said. “Guess I’m in a ditzy mood this morning. That’s Mr. Summerfield, a travel writer from New York. He said he wanted to talk to you.”
“Mr. Summerfield?”
Harper grinned. “His first name’s Nigel,” she said. “Nigel Summerfield.” Her eyes glazed over slightly with a filmy, faraway look. “Doesn’t that sound so romantic?”
I skimmed right past the wistful question and asked why he wanted to talk to me.
“Well, come on, silly!” Harper squeaked. “Because he’s a travel writer! And he’s working on an article about Crescent Creek. He wants to include Sky High Pies!”
I glanced at the man hunched over his laptop: tousled hair, square jaw, neatly trimmed beard specked with crimson patches. He was dressed in a pair of dark green corduroy slacks, navy turtleneck sweater and well-worn hiking boots. Mirrored aviator sunglasses dangled from his neck on a black lanyard. I guessed he was in his late twenties.
“Want me to talk to him instead?” Harper asked.
I noticed arms waving in the air at the Wednesday Walking Club table. “I think you’d better deal with the competitive athletes,” I suggested. “I’ll go over and see what the travel guy needs.”
As I approached the man’s table, he greeted me with a bright smile.
“Mr. Summerfield?” I extended my arm and we shook hands. “I’m Kate Reed. Harper said you had questions about Sky High?”
“I do indeed,” he said. “And please call me Nigel.” He paused long enough to turn up the heat on his flawless smile. “I’m a writer for a magazine called Global Traveler. I’m here in Crescent Creek for the book fair this week. While I’m visiting, I wanted to check out some of the area’s most popular shops and restaurants.”
I smiled. “Like Sky High?”
“Exactly right,” he said. “I’m really intrigued by local family businesses that survive for such a long time.”
“Well, it’s all my grandmother’s doing really,” I said. “Nana Reed created a solid foundation with her recipes and strong ties to the community.”
“And now?”
“Well, now I’m managing the place,” I said. “My parents were here for—”
“Twenty-five years,” he said, finishing my thought. “I saw the profile that Gretchen Goode wrote for the local paper.”
“Oh, okay. How can I help you then?”
“I’d like to stop by and do an interview after I finish up with the book fair on Friday,” he said. “Would that be possible?”
I felt a wave of relief sweep through me. I didn’t want to be rude, but the day was already chockablock with Sky High tasks and the stops I planned to make to investigate the letter that Ivy found at the library.
“That would be terrific! Do you want to set up a time now?”
“Would it be okay if I call you that morning?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll look forward to it. We close at three, so anytime after that would be best.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Before you go, do you mind if I ask a favor?”
I raised one eyebrow. “People ask all the time,” I teased. “But I cannot divulge the secret ingredient in Nana Reed’s Peanut Butter Brownie Bites.”
The picture-perfect smile returned beneath his translucent emerald eyes. “It’s actually something else,” he said. “My sister’s in town with me this week. If she gets bored while I’m busy with the book fair, I’m afraid she might get into some trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“She has a tendency to get bored,” he said. “I was hoping you could recommend a few local places, like maybe a boutique or two, a nail salon or something similar.”
I reached into my apron pocket to retrieve a ballpoint and one of my business cards. I quickly scribbled some options on the back: Bliss Boutique (vintage clothes), Nails & Company (Neva = best manicure in town), Sweet Scoops (ice cream parlor), Crescent Creek Historical Society (exhibits, artifacts, educational programs).
“Here you go.” I put the card beside his computer. “My name and number are on the front. Your sister’s welcome to call if she burns through these ideas before you’re ready to head back to…”
It took him a moment to realize that I was referring to his hometown.
“Oh, sorry! We’re visiting from New York. Our father lived there nearly his entire life, so my sister and I are carrying on the family tradition.”
“Crescent Creek must seem kind of strange then.”
He shrugged. “Not really. We used to have a place in Aspen, so Colorado was kind of like a second home.”
“Aspen, huh? That’s a pretty nice spot if you’re forced to have more than one place to hang your hat.”
He laughed. “Our mother was living there year-round until she was diagnosed with…” Something changed in his expression; a profound sorrow that briefly eclipsed the lively twinkle in his eyes. “Anyway,” he continued, “I should let you get back to making pies or whatever it is you were doing.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “And I should finish up this story for the magazine. I’m on deadline and my editor can be a true terror if I’m even a few minutes late.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, smiling warmly. “Enjoy your stay in Crescent Creek!”
CHAPTER 6
When the lunch rush ended and the daily hubbub receded to a gentle murmur, I asked Julia and Harper if they minded finishing the rest of the prep work for the next day.
“Why?” Julia asked with a smile. “Gotta go shopping to buy something cute for your hot date with a handsome photographer?”
“Something like that,” I said. “But I also want to stop by Toby’s print shop and get the Sky High flyers and business cards we ordered for the booth at the book fair.”
“What about that new blue wrap dress you bought last week?” Harper asked. “I thought you were wearing that for your dream-come-true date with Zack.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said. “It’s just two single adults having dinner together.”
“In a fancy restaurant,” Julia laughed. “With candles and white tablecloths.”
“And a jovial Italian chef named Luigi Benedetto!” added Harper.
I scowled. “How’d you find out Zack and I are going to Luigi’s?”
“A little birdie,” Julia said.
I glared at Harper. “What about you?” I demanded. “Another little birdie?”
She shook her head. “My hubby was at lunch there yesterday. He saw Zack’s name on the reservation list for tonight.”
“It’s impossible to keep anything from you guys,” I joked. “You’re like my two silent shadows no matter where I go.”
“Not always,” Julia quipped. “Neither one of us knows where you’re off to now.”
Harper bobbed her head. “Other than the print shop,” she said. “Unless you want to fill in the blanks for us. You’ve got that serious, distracted look on your face, Katie. Is everything okay?”
I gave them a smile. “I’m doing a favor for Ivy Minkler. It’s probably nothing, but she asked me to look into a fairly delicate matter.”
Julia snickered. “Somebody forget to return a library book?”
“It’s not about a book,” I said, grabbing my purse and phone. “But it does have something to do with the library.”
“Aha!” Harper exclaimed. “The plot thickens! I suggest it was Colonel Mustard in the study with the candlestick.” She giggled. “Does that sound about right?”
I shook my head. “Not really, but a game of Clue would be a whole lot more fun.”
“What’s going on with Ivy?” said Julia.
“Oh, you know,” I answered. “She’s on pins and needles this week about the book fair. I think that’s why she got so rattled when she found something kind of strange yesterday. She just asked me to do a little checking. I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“What’s going on?” Harper asked.
“I’m not exactly sure yet,” I answered. “But I’m going over to Walter Shipp’s. He was mentioned in the things that Ivy found, so I thought I’d pay him a visit and ask a few questions.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Walter Shipp?”
“Sure, he’s the older gentleman that bought the Blackwell place a few years back. You might know him better as a slice of Red Hot Red Velvet with butterscotch sauce on the side.”
Julia’s face lit up with a brilliant grin. “Oh, that guy! I definitely remember him. The first time Harper came back with his special request, I about fell over. I mean, who eats red velvet cake with butterscotch sauce?”