by Jessica Beck
* * *
The storm was fierce, and I’d just made it three steps out my door when a voice came from around the corner. “Get back inside.”
“Hi, Wilma. I was just on my way home.”
“With that?” she said as she gestured to the gumdrop tree in my hands.
“I thought it would look better on our fireplace mantle at home.”
“Do as I say and get inside, Suzanne.”
And that’s when I saw the gun in her hand.
* * *
Once we were back in the shop, I knew I was lost, but that didn’t mean I was ready to give up. If I could stall her long enough, maybe someone would come by. George could return, or I might find an opening to stop her from killing me. One thing was certain; if I just submitted to her will, I was dead.
Wilma said, “You’re smarter than I thought you were. That was a pretty clever trap you set.” She motioned toward the gumdrop tree. “Pretty bold of you, sneaking it out of her apartment like that.”
“Believe it or not, this isn’t Darlene’s. We must have the only two in town. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw it at her place a few days ago.”
Wilma’s expression faltered. “Why should I believe you?”
I said, “Why shouldn’t you? You’re the one with the gun, and it just happens to be the truth.”
“Then how did you know I killed her?”
I started working my way toward the mop. Maybe I could knock the gun out of her hand with it. At least I’d die trying to save myself, and not be shot like some tin can in a shooting gallery.
“I saw the way you reacted when you spotted it on my counter. You told me yourself that you’d never been in Darlene’s apartment, but why would you lie about it, unless you had something to hide? It’s the only way it all made sense. But honestly, why kill her, Wilma? Did the money mean that much to you?”
“It wasn’t the money, you idiot,” she said. “It was the betrayal. I could have lived with her stealing from me, but when she took money from Lester Moorefield to spread rumors about me and my shop, she went too far. My business is my sanctuary, and she soiled it. I had no choice. I thought a stake through the heart was an appropriate response for a traitor, even if it was on the other end of a candy cane.”
“How is it that no one saw you do it?” I had to keep her talking. I was nearly at the mop, and if I could just get a little closer, I could make my move.
Wilma laughed, like a child getting a special Christmas present. “Trust me, no one could be more surprised than I was. I kept expecting someone to wrestle me to the ground, but when I realized that no one had noticed what I’d done, I simply walked away.”
“And you can do that again right now. You don’t have to kill me,” I said. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“We both know better than that,” she said.
“People are going to realize you had to be the one who shot me. It’s pretty clear you’re tied up into this mess, and Chief Martin’s no fool.”
“This is going to look like a botched robbery. You were already hit once this week, weren’t you? It’s not hard to believe that whoever robbed you the first time came back for what was left.”
I realized that she was probably right. No one but Emma knew Max had robbed the shop himself. She’d come forward after I was dead, so at least I had hope that it wouldn’t go unsolved.
But I never wanted it to get that far. “Wilma, we can work something out.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re just a loose end I need to tie off, Suzanne. I’m sorry, I truly am.” She stared at my ponytail, then said, “You really should have let me do your hair. Tell you what. I’ll talk to the funeral home and volunteer my services. When everybody in town sees my hairstyle on you in that open coffin, they’ll be amazed at how lovely you look.”
That was even more incentive to stop her. I’d rather die than have her touch my hair, and I was about to prove it.
As my hand lunged for the mop, a shot filled the shop with explosive noise, and I could swear I felt the wind from the bullet.
“Stand still,” she commanded me as she took aim for another try.
Just as she spoke, the front window of the donut shop shattered into a thousand tiny glistening fragments. Wilma turned toward the street, and I grabbed the mop and swung it with all my might. I missed her head, hitting her shoulder instead as another shot rang out. The gun went flying, and we both dove for it.
But not before Max could get there first. He plucked it out of the mess and pointed it at Wilma.
“Get up,” he ordered. “I’m inclined to go ahead and shoot you after what I just saw, so don’t give me any reason to follow through with it.”
She stood up meekly, and I did as well, moving toward Max.
“Great timing,” I said as I heard a police siren in the distance.
“I saw her force you inside, but I stopped to call the cops before I did anything else. Suzanne, are you all right?”
“I’m a little shaky,” I admitted. “How about you?”
“Me? I’m on top of the world.”
That’s when I noticed the blood seeping high out of his chest.
“Max,” I said, my voice full of terror. “She shot you.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too,” he said. “Maybe you’d better take the gun.”
I did as he asked, and felt him start to collapse beside me. I did my best to hold him up, and as I looked away, Wilma lunged toward me.
* * *
“One more step, and I’ll shoot you,” I told my captive as I let Max slump to the ground.
“You don’t have the nerve,” Wilma said.
I put a shot into the clock just over her head, and it shattered splendidly.
“That almost hit me,” she said indignantly.
“Let me try again. I’m sure my aim will get better with a little practice.”
I didn’t have any more trouble with Wilma after that.
Chief Martin showed up a minute later, and as he glanced at Max, he asked quickly, “Is he dead?”
“I hope not,” I said.
He took the gun from my hands. “What happened?”
“Wilma killed Darlene, and then she tried to kill me.”
“Looks like her aim was a little off,” the chief said.
Max came around, looked up at him, and said, “I don’t know, she didn’t have any trouble hitting me.” While I’d been watching Wilma, Max had taken a bandana out of his pocket and was pressing it to his chest. The bullet must have hit higher up and to the right than I’d first thought from the way he was applying pressure to it.
“You all right?” the chief asked him.
“I’ve been better,” he said as the EMS crew finally showed up.
I knelt down beside Max and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll bet you’ll take me back now, won’t you?”
I looked deep into his eyes, then said, “Not on your life.”
Max looked hurt for a second, then I could see he finally got it.
We were finished.
“I’m still glad I saved you.”
“So am I,” I said.
The chief whistled above us. “Man, you’re even tougher than I thought.”
Max said, “You’d better believe it.”
“I was talking to her.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
And then the med techs were working on Max. The chief took Wilma away, and I was left with a donut shop in ruins. Snow started to drift in through the gaping front window, but I realized that I just didn’t care.
Without another glance backward—the day’s proceeds still in the cash register and the shop filling with snow—I walked away, and wondered as I did if I’d ever be able to come back.
CHAPTER 15
“Can I see her?” I heard George ask my mother as he came to the front door of our house.
>
I’d been cocooning there on the couch for the last three days, hiding out from the rest of the world while my wounds healed. Wilma hadn’t done anything physically to me—as much as she’d tried—but the injuries I’d sustained had been just as bad as if her errant shot had struck home. Since my divorce from Max, I seemed to be a magnet for trouble, and I had to wonder if April Springs was really the place for me after all. With the prospect of Grace leaving and everything that had happened at Donut Hearts, maybe it was time to make a clean sweep of things and find somewhere I could start over. Momma had been shielding me ferociously since I’d come home, and it was time I’d needed to think long and serious thoughts.
But I had to face my friends sooner or later, and at least now, I thought I was ready for it.
“It’s okay, Momma,” I called out. “Let him in.”
“Are you positive?”
“It’s all right,” I said. “But thank you for protecting me.”
“It’s what a mother does,” she said as she stepped aside.
George came in and offered me a smile as he took a seat opposite mine in front of the fireplace. He had a present in his hands, which surprised me, since we’d never exchanged them before. The snow was finally starting to melt, just in time to give us a slushy Christmas. That’s when I realized that it was indeed Christmas day.
“Hang on one second, George,” I said.
I walked over to Momma, who was watching from the edge of the room, and hugged her.
“Merry Christmas,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in what’s been happening with me, I forgot all about you.”
She hugged me for another second as she stroked my hair. “Suzanne, there’s nothing to apologize for. As long as I get to spend the holidays with you, that’s all I care about.”
“I love you, Momma,” I said.
“And I love you, too.” We didn’t say it much—probably not nearly enough—but today, it was the best gift I could get, or receive.
George had been watching us. It was easy to tell by the way he diverted his eyes when I came back to the couch.
“Suzanne, if you’re not ready to talk, I understand. Just say the word, and I’m out of here.”
“I have to face the world sooner or later,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”
He nodded, then thrust the present toward me.
I didn’t accept it, though.
“George, I didn’t get you anything.”
“This is from me, and a lot of your other friends and customers in town,” he said. “Emma pitched in, too.”
As I tore the paper off, I realized that it was a photo frame. “It’s lovely,” I said as I flipped it over, and then noticed the picture inside.
“It’s my donut shop the way it used to be,” I said.
George shook his head. “No, it’s the way it is now. We took that picture yesterday.”
I studied it more carefully. “But the window’s back in place, and the decorations are all up. How did you manage it during the holidays on such short notice?”
“We all pitched in, and a few of us called in favors, too. It’s ready for you whenever you want to come back,” he said.
“I appreciate that,” I said, putting the frame on the coffee table between us, face down so I didn’t have to look at the picture.
“When are you coming to open Donut Hearts back up?” he asked.
I looked over at Momma, who was clearly about to say something, and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said.
“We all miss you,” George said.
“That’s sweet of you. Please thank everyone for me, would you? Now if you don’t mind, I’m a little worn out.”
He got the hint. “I understand. Thanks for seeing me. I hope you have a merry Christmas, Suzanne.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said, the words sounding hollow on my lips. What my friends had done touched me, but I wasn’t sure it was enough to ever get me back to my shop.
What would I do instead, though? I’d held several different jobs over the years, but if I was being honest about it, none of them had mattered to me, except the last one. It wasn’t that donuts were my life—I didn’t care if I ever made another one at the moment—but they were a gateway to friends I never would have met otherwise, and that made them more precious than gold. I stared at the back of the frame for ten minutes, then turned it over and looked at my shop again. It was beautiful, even I could see that. The converted train depot had been transformed into a place that was every bit as much my home as my mother’s house.
And I realized I could never walk away from it. Sure, things would be different with Grace gone, but that was life. Change was always bound to happen. No matter what might have happened at my shop before, I had to go back. Donut Hearts was where my heart belonged, and suddenly, all the angst I’d been going through, the mourning for giving up my shop, fell away like an old coat I’d just thrown off, and I had hope again.
* * *
The phone rang, and I grabbed it before Momma could. I’d been shielded long enough.
I was overjoyed when I realized that it was Grace.
“Merry Christmas, my friend,” she said.
“You sound absolutely chipper,” I said, a little sad that she could be so happy about leaving town.
“Why shouldn’t I? Everything’s worked out better than I could have hoped.”
“So, you liked San Francisco,” I said.
“I loved it,” she said. “But I’m back in April Springs, still waiting to see you. Are you ever going to let me come over?”
I decided to ignore her question. Honestly, I hadn’t been able to face her until I could accept the fact that she’d be gone soon. “When do you have to move?” I asked, trying to keep the tears out of my voice.
“That’s what’s so wonderful. If you won’t let me tell you in person, I’ll do it over the phone. Suzanne, I don’t have to go.”
Did I just hear that right? “What do you mean?”
“I turned the promotion down,” Grace said. So why did she sound so happy about it?
“Why on earth did you do that? You’ve been coveting that job for years.”
Grace laughed. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one. When my boss found out I said no, she and her boss came up with a counterproposal. My boss gets the San Francisco position, and I get North Carolina. Suzanne, I don’t have to move after all. I can work right here from April Springs most of the time.”
“Outstanding,” I screamed into the phone loud enough for Momma to come running into the room.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I just got the best present ever,” I explained. “Grace isn’t moving to California after all.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said.
“Hello. I’m still here,” I heard Grace’s voice say over the telephone.
“Then come on over. We’ll celebrate.”
“I’m on the front porch, you nit.”
I jumped up from the couch, and we met at the door.
“Welcome home,” I said.
“I can say the same thing to you, can’t I?”
I nodded. “I’d say that’s just about the perfect thing to say right now.”
* * *
Grace, Momma, and I were just getting ready to eat the Christmas feast my mother had prepared when the front door rang.
Momma said, “Suzanne, would you get that? I’ve got my hands full.”
“Who on earth comes calling on Christmas day?” I asked.
“I suppose you’ll have to go to the door and see.”
When I opened it, I’d been expecting one of my friends, or even a band of carolers. What I didn’t expect was to find Jake Bishop standing there, his hat literally in his hands.
* * *
“Jake? What are you doing here?”
He looked like he was about to cry, and then he said, “I’m transporting Wilma Jackson to Raleigh.”
“They don’t usually make
you do that, do they?”
I could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “They don’t, but I requested this assignment. I wanted to see you.”
I shook my head. “We’ve said all we need to say to each other,” I said. “Good-bye, Jake.”
“What if I’m not ready to say that?” he said as he put a hand on the door, holding it open.
“You aren’t ready to say anything else,” I said. “It’s okay, Jake, I understand.”
“Suzanne, I know I’ve been a complete fool, but I’m trying here, okay? At least give me a chance.”
“You had your chance,” I said. I was still hurt by the way he’d thrown me away, like a wrapper he was finished with, no matter what his reasons had been.
“You’re with him, aren’t you?” he asked, as he tried to look past me, inside the house.
“Him? Who are you talking about?”
“Max. He’s in there. I just know it.”
I laughed, despite the way I felt seeing him again. “Jake, Max and I are ancient history, and he’s finally gotten the message. I’m tired of looking back. It’s time to focus on what’s ahead.”
He looked relieved by my admission, then said, “If there’s room for me, I’d like to be a part of that.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Or more importantly, you can’t. You live in the past, and I’m not saying I blame you, but I can’t compete with your dead wife.”
“I don’t want you to,” he said, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. “I need a chance to start over.”
“I just wish it was that easy,” I said. “Maybe if we were just meeting for the first time, if we could wipe everything that’s happened between us away, things could be different. Good-bye, Jake.”
“Good-bye,” he said.
I closed the door, not even daring to allow myself to watch him drive away. Turning Jake down was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but it was for the best. I’d meant what I’d said. If we could start fresh, maybe things would work out between us, but too much had happened.
Maybe there were no do-overs in life.
I started back to the kitchen when there was another knock on the door.