Game of Tarts

by Wendy Meadows

  “Unfortunately, you left a trail of evidence anyway,” David replies. “Those notes you sent him made it pretty obvious.”

  “I even tried to tell that stupid wife of his,” Alan fires back. “Do you know she didn’t even care that he was screwing everything in sight? As soon as I saw that, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. I couldn’t let a piece of trash like that keep walking the streets. He was a menace to society.”

  “Is that what you told yourself?” David shakes his head.

  Alan looks around again. Don’t ask me what he sees, but he hauls Sabrina sideways down the counter. He must be trying to take her somewhere. I can’t let that happen. We have to get this guy under arrest before he hurts someone else.

  I think fast. There must be something I can do. In a panic, I grab the nearest table and flip it up on its legs. I toss it over with a crash and it knocks into four chairs. A racket of falling furniture echoes through the bakery.

  Alan starts back in surprise. At that instant, Sabrina raises her arm and slams her elbow into his guts. Alan buckles with a grunt. The moment gives Sabrina just enough time to wriggle out of his grasp. She darts toward David and leaves Alan alone with the knife still clutched in his hand.

  For a fraction of a second, Alan and David eye each other in matched determination. The next thing I know, Alan wheels around and bolts for the kitchen. He skids around the corner and loses his footing.

  David rushes up behind him and rides him down to the ground. He jams his gun into the back of Alan’s neck and pins him to the floor. “Don’t move.”

  He wrenches Alan’s arm behind his back. He wedges his knee into Alan’s kidneys and snaps handcuffs around his wrists.

  I race to Sabrina’s side. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She presses her hand to her heart. “I’m all right. Thank you so much for distracting him, Margaret. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

  Alan chokes against David’s hold. “She didn’t even care! She didn’t even care.”

  Sabrina stares down at him, still panting hard. “I always cared, Alan. I never stopped caring.”

  He clamps his eyes shut, and his voice breaks with sobs. “She didn’t even care! I tried to tell her and she didn’t even care.”

  I lay my hand on Sabrina’s arm. “I don’t think he’s talking about you. He means Sophie Freeman. He tried to tell her Scott was cheating on him.”

  David wrestles him onto his feet. “Come on, man. I’ll book you at the station and then I’ll drive you to the county jail in Peterborough.”

  He gives me a clipped nod before he marches Alan out of the bakery. I see him push Alan’s head into the cruiser’s back seat. A moment later, the cruiser glides out of town.

  I steal a glance at Sabrina. “Are you gonna be okay on your own?”

  She stares around the bakery with wide eyes. “I never thought I’d ever be here without Alan.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “I…. I’m not sure,” she stammers. “I’ve always worked with him. I started out working for him, and it grew into a relationship. I’ve never done this on my own.”

  “You could,” I suggest. “You said yourself you do all the hard work and he couldn’t run the bakery without you. You could take over. You could run this place.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that.” She twists her toe into the floor. “I’m not good with numbers and money and all that.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to learn. Look at me. I never ran my own business, but I made up my mind I was gonna do it and I did. It’s a learning process, but it’s worth it.”

  She shakes her head and lowers her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “You just need to have confidence in yourself. You’re smart enough to learn. Alan controlled you, but you’re free now. You can do this if you just try. You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

  She peeks up at me. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so. The more I see women in bad relationships, the more I see how they can turn their lives around if they just believe in themselves. Think it over. You don’t have to do anything right away, but I know one thing for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have customers who expect you to serve them,” I remind her. “You have a business to run, and Alan’s not around to do it for you anymore. It’s time for you to step up to the plate and swing that bat. It’s either that or close your doors right now, and I don’t think you want to do that.”

  She casts another sweeping glance around the bakery. Cookies, donuts, bagels, cakes, and big puffy eclairs line the glass display case, and Sabrina made them all with her own two hands. A change creeps over her at the sight of her own handiwork. “You’re right. I don’t.”

  I give her arm one last pat. “You better get at it, then. If you need me, I’ll be right next door.”

  I slip out, back to my own store where I find Zack behind the counter. The last image I catch of Sabrina is her still standing there in front of the display. She gazes lovingly at her baked goods. I sure hope she realizes how truly talented and resilient she is. She’s got a good thing going in that bakery. It would be such a shame for her to throw it all away just because Alan lost his head.

  17

  I turn on my garden hose and mosey through the backyard. I soak every plant with loving care and give the geranium a long drink. Now that Alan Harris is going down for Scott Freeman’s murder, I don’t mind taking the rest of the day off from working in the candy store.

  My head still hurts, but I can’t stay in bed. Life calls me to get involved with it. I can’t sit around while it passes me by.

  After I water everything, I take my trowel and mulch around the rose bushes. I work my way over all the plants and trim off dead leaves and blown flower heads. I wind up back at the porch again with my blood pounding in my temples. Maybe I’m not as energetic as I think I am.

  I sit down on the step and turn my attention to the geranium. I pinch off a withered leaf when I hear the gate latch slot open. David wanders into the garden and his eyes light up when he sees me working on the geranium. “Is it blooming yet?”

  I have to laugh. “I think it is.”

  “That’s good.” He sits down on the step next to me. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  “Did you take Alan to Peterborough?”

  He nods. “He’s all locked up and still raging about how Sophie Freeman didn’t care that her husband cheated on her.”

  I shake my head over the plant. “If he only knew the truth.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” David asks. “You had the chance to tell him she was just as upset about Scott cheating as Alan was. Why didn’t you tell him when you had the chance?”

  “I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t burst his bubble to make him understand he killed Scott for nothing.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he tells me. “He would have killed Scott either way. He didn’t care about Sophie’s reaction. He’s just using her as an excuse after the fact. He made up his mind to kill Scott long before he ever sent that note to Sophie. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made up his mind to kill Scott before he ever sent a threatening note to Scott himself.”

  I cock my head. “Do you really think so? I never thought of that.”

  “When someone crosses that line, they’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. He made up his mind to get revenge on Scott. He didn’t need a valid reason. It didn’t have to make sense. He wanted it. He set his sights on it and he got it. Nothing could stop him.”

  I study him from the side. “You sound like you know all about it.”

  “When you work with these people year after year, you get a sense of how they think. When you look at it the right way, you start to understand they’re really like toddlers. They want that candy bar and woe to anyone who gets in their way. Telling them it will rot their teeth or spoil their dinner means nothing to them. All the reasons not to b
ounce right off them. They want it and they’re going to get it. End of story.”

  I fight back a smile. “Now you sound like you know something about toddlers. How did you learn so much?”

  “Heck, lady. When you’ve been around the block as many times as I have, it just seeps in through your pores. That’s what comes of getting old.”

  “You’re hardly old,” I counter. “You’re still young.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He reaches across the step to take my hand. “I came over here to thank you for doing such good work on the case. We wouldn’t have solved it without you.”

  I blush and bow my head. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome to work on cases anytime you want to—unofficially, of course, since you’re not deputized or anything.”

  My eyes pop. “Really? Thanks.”

  “Just don’t make me regret that decision. You’ll still have to abide by official procedures. Please, please, if you care about me at all, make sure you don’t do anything to contaminate a case. I could get sacked if you did.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

  He closes his eyes. “I’ll probably rue the day I said this, but if you want to work on cases, I’ll be happy to have you along. You’ve done good work so far.”

  I can’t stop blushing and muttering, “Thanks.”

  “That son of yours is taking to the store like a duck to water.”

  “He is?” I ask. “What is he doing?”

  “When I was in there earlier, he was making display trays for the Sweet Sale. He was constructing fancy tiered racks out of stiff card paper and decorating them with tinsel and shiny flower sequin things.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger to make a circle the size of a quarter.

  I blink at him in shock. “He is?”

  “Maybe he wanted to surprise you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I never knew he was doing anything like that,” I murmur.

  “While I was in the store, he took a phone call from one of your suppliers,” he goes on. “He modified your order and changed some of the numbers. When I asked about it, he said you hadn’t taken into account the block party at the end of the month. He said he was saving you shipping costs, and by ordering more at one time, he was taking advantage of a bulk price from the supplier. He said he looked over the list you made and realized he could do better. I hope I’m not causing trouble between you two by telling you.”

  I bend over the geranium again. “I should have known he would come up with something like this. I shouldn’t have resisted him getting involved. I should have trusted him.”

  He cocks his head to study me. “Are you sure he’s not stepping out of line?”

  “He’s been trying to tell me for weeks that he needed to take on more responsibility. I didn’t want to give it up. I wanted the store to be all mine. Now I realize this is where he needs to be. I shouldn’t be so selfish.”

  “It is your store,” he points out. “You have no reason to let him push you out.”

  “He’s not pushing me out. He’s just taking his rightful place. It’s all right. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  “He seems to have come to an understanding about us, too,” he goes on.

  I smile up at him. “Is there an us?”

  “If it’s blooming, there is. Zack doesn’t even blink now when he tells me where you are. He seems to have accepted it.”

  “He has,” I tell him. “I might even start to believe he’s happy about it.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. At least I don’t have to worry about him driving me off with a shotgun.”

  I laugh out loud. “That would be funny.”

  “Not really. How about joining me for dinner tonight?”

  His hand becomes more obvious in my grasp. All at once, the sensation of his skin sparks a burst of electricity up my arm. “I don’t really feel like going out tonight. Why don’t you have dinner here?”

  “I could do that.” He slides closer to me on the step. “How long before Zack gets home?”

  “He closes the store at five, so we’ve got a few hours before we have to face him.”

  “It’s too bad we don’t have the house to ourselves tonight,” he remarks.

  “We could always go to your house,” I suggest. “We wouldn’t have to worry about him there.”

  He rolls his eyes upward. “Don’t even joke about that. You don’t want to go to my house.”

  “Why not? Is it really that bad?”

  “It’s worse,” he retorts. “It’s a stable. I told you that.”

  “I don’t believe it. Even if it is, why don’t you clean it up, now that you have some reason to make it presentable?”

  He spins around to study me. “Good idea. I didn’t think of that.”

  Sitting so close to him on the back step with no one around, holding hands and talking like real people, fills me with happiness. Everything’s perfect.

  He runs his thumb across my knuckles and breathes in a long breath. “I knew I kept you around for something. Knowing you might one day set foot in my house will definitely motivate me to fix it up.”

  “Maybe it will motivate you to do more than that,” I offer.

  “Maybe.”

  Silence descends between us, but it’s the most peaceful silence I’ve experienced in a long time. Neither of us has to fill it with any small talk or plans for the future. Sitting here together is enough. We’re both where we need to be. We’re the people we need to be and we’re together. We complete each other in ways I could never imagine.

  I always thought relationships had to end with moving in together, getting married, and living happily ever after. Now I find out they can be complete enough without that.

  David being his own independent person with his own house and his own work, and me being my own independent person with my own house and my own work and my own commitments, doesn’t make us any less a couple.

  If anything, it makes us stronger because we can stand on our own two feet. We can still hold hands and support each other and be there for each other. We can still understand each other and care about each other.

  I never knew I could feel so satisfied with myself and my life. I love everything about my life and in my life right now. It won’t stay like this. Nothing ever does, but even that’s okay. I can deal with the changes when they come and I’ll be just as strong and happy and independent then as I am now.

  18

  Zack stick his head through the front door and calls out, “Come on, Mom! Everybody’s out here already.”

  I call back from the stock room. “I’m coming!”

  I hurry out front to see him hefting a trestle table in his burly arms. He carries it out of the candy store and unfolds it on the sidewalk next to the one he’s already set up outside.

  His tiered displays exhibit trays of chocolates and jars of lollipops. Boxes of sweets and packages of fudge and toffee crowd the table. He puts out signs just as the first visitors start to arrive.

  I carry one glass jar after another and line them up on the second table while Zack serves the people and talks to them about the store. In a few minutes, crowds stream into Main Street.

  I cast a glance back and forth across the town. David’s cruiser angles across the street to block traffic, and another police car obstructs the other end of Main Street. Sabrina Harris has her own stall set up in front of the bakery, and a delicious aroma of sugar syrup, frosting, and cinnamon breezes to my nose.

  I catch sight of her handing donuts and bagels and slices of cake to passersby. Tanya Harris works at her side without a break. Ever since Alan went to prison and Sabrina bought out his share of the bakery, business is booming next door. Sabrina hired Tanya to work the counter so she could concentrate on the baking and her management duties.

  Sabrina happens to look up and sees me watching. She cracks a broad grin and waves to me. I wave back. I couldn’t ask for a better neighbor. She’s hardworking and determined. Ev
er since she got rid of Alan, her confidence has soared and she’s coming into her own as a successful business owner.

  A cheery voice hails me from my other side. “Yoo-hoo! Good morning, Margaret. Don’t give away all that fudge before I get a taste.”

  I turn around to see Stacy Koontz waving to me. She’s got several carts set up in front of the Happy-Go-Lucky café serving hot food, coffee, and even salads. Two streaks of purple dye highlight her blonde hair at the temples. They make her stand out from the crowd even more than she normally does.

  She bustles between the carts overseeing everything. “Check the cooler temperature, Jaden,” she calls to one of her many employees. “You let me know if you start to run low on creamer, Sally. We have plenty in the café. I can bring it out to you whenever you need it.”

  “Yes, Ms. Koontz,” the girl replies.

  I lay a paper napkin in my palm and place two slices of fudge on the surface. I take them over to Stacy. “Here you go. Just don’t tell me you want to start handing fudge out to your customers with the check.”

  She laughs. “I think I’ll stick to hard candy for that. I might resell them, though. I could mark the fudge up and sell it to people at the check-out.”

  I frown. “You would resell my own fudge right next door to my store?”

  “Don’t worry.” She waves her hand at me. “I would mark it up enough that people would definitely want to buy it from you. I’ll tell them that, if they like it so much, they can get it cheaper at the candy store down the block. Does that satisfy you?”

  My face clears. “Okay. That’s all right, I guess.”

  “I wouldn’t cut you out, darling. We’re in this together. You know that.”

  I take a look around the town. Mr. Stewart has a large table set up in front of his shop across the street. A miniature poodle stands at attention while Mr. Stewart clips its curly fur with a pair of scissors. Down the block, kids play in the fenced yard around the Day Care Center. Visitors browse boxes of books set out in front of the Book Store. Only Scott Freeman’s old Coffee Canteen stands vacant and abandoned. No one gives it a second glance.