by Kate Bell
It was late afternoon, and I had sold so little it made me sick. I would have to throw away a lot of food, not to mention how much work I had to put into making them.
"But everyone's out buying stuff. Lots of stuff. I see them walking by with their bags of goodies. Why aren't they buying my goodies?" I whined.
"I don't know, Allie. Those muffins are fantastic. So moist and fruity," Lucy assured me.
I sighed and tried to will the passing people to stop in and try my wares. Maybe if I concentrated really hard, it would work.
"Excuse me," I said to a passing threesome of young girls. "I've got samples. Would you like to try some muffins? They're the best at the festival."
They looked at me and giggled, moving on. I sighed again. What was going on here?
I jumped to my feet. "Free samples!" I called to a passing elderly couple. The man stopped and smiled at me.
"What kind of samples?" he asked.
"Strawberry apple muffins," I answered, picking up the glass lid so he could see them better.
The woman scowled at me. "Come on, George," she said, pulling on his arm.
I put the glass lid down again.
"I don't get it," I said. I turned to Alec and looked at him questioningly. "What is going on here?"
He shrugged. "I don't have a clue."
"Well, I'll tell you I will not sit here and feel sorry for myself. I will take a walk and feel sorry for myself. Want to come?"
"No, I will sit here and read my book," he said, holding his tablet up for me to see.
"Fine. Lucy?"
She shook her head. "You go ahead. I'll stay here."
"Okay. I'll bring you back something," I said, heading around to the back of the booth. "See if you can sell something while I'm gone."
"We'll give it our all," Alec said without looking up.
I sighed and walked along the rows of booths. Normally, I loved festivals. The booths were fun to check out and there were always lots of fun things to buy. I wished I knew why no one wanted to buy my fun things. Was I losing my touch? I doubted it, but maybe my age was catching up with me. I gasped. Was I becoming baking senile? Forgetting the things I had known since I was a girl? Maybe I had used salt instead of sugar in the muffins and no one wanted to tell me? No. That was ridiculous. I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking like this.
I approached Barnabas's booth and stopped.
"Hi Barnabas," I said and looked past him to the bottles near the back of the booth. "What kind of supplements do you sell?" I wondered if I needed some vitamins to give me more energy. Or maybe there was something I could take to improve my memory.
"I have a variety of all natural supplements. I’m constantly researching plants and supplements and I know a lot about what each plant does. Oh, say, have you tried American Ginseng? You said you ran the marathon, right?" he asked and went to the back of the booth. He picked up a bottle and brought it to me.
"Yes." I nodded and looked at the bottle he handed me.
"This helps long distance runners with stamina, endurance, and recovery."
"Do you grow and bottle all these supplements yourself?" I asked.
"Most of them. Some things I buy, but most I grow. Would you like a smoothie?"
I looked at the blender he pointed to. "Oh, no thank you."
"It's on the house. I've also been experimenting with maca powder and ginger. And of course, in the spirit of the festival, strawberries." Before I could say anything more, he dropped a handful of strawberries into the blender, followed by a heaping spoonful of the maca, American ginseng, and some ginger.
"It's been a few days since the marathon," I protested. "I'm recovering really well." It was true. Or at least I thought I was recovering well. Since I had never run a marathon before, I could only imagine that the leaden feeling in my legs was normal. It was nice of him to offer the smoothie, but I had eaten too many samples. I couldn't resist them when I saw them, and nearly every booth had some.
"But this will give you an energy boost. And it tastes delicious," he said, drizzling honey into it and pouring in coconut milk. "You will love this."
He switched the blender on and I smiled at him. The guy was a little pushy, and he loved his supplements.
"There we go," he said, switching off the blender. He picked up a plastic cup and poured the smoothie into it. "Try it."
"Okay, sure," I said. I didn't want to offend him, but I really didn't want to drink this stuff. I had heard of some of the supplements before, but I had never tried them and I had a feeling they might taste like weeds. I reluctantly took a sip and was pleasantly surprised when my taste buds lit up. "Wow, this is good." I took a bigger swallow.
"I told you," he said with a grin. "I know my smoothies. I also know that in order for people to try new, healthy things, it's got to taste good. Mission accomplished?"
I nodded and took another sip. "Mission accomplished. So what's it supposed to do again?"
"It drives oxygen to the muscles and helps in recovery. Of course, it would have been more helpful if you had drunk it right after the marathon, but I had run out of ingredients by the time you stopped by." He shrugged.
"I love it," I said. And I did. It had a wonderful fruity taste from the strawberries with a slight nutty background flavor. I could drink one of these every day. "I better buy some of that maca and American ginseng."
He nodded. "See? Give out free samples, and they buy."
"I guess it works for some people, but I have to say my samples are not getting people to buy. If someone would actually try my samples, they might buy my desserts, but no such luck."
"Oh?" he said, one eyebrow arched.
I nodded. I was embarrassed now that I had said it out loud. "I guess people are tired of strawberries."
"Nonsense. It's because people think you may have poisoned the young woman that died the other day. Everyone knows she ate one of your cupcakes."
I gasped. "What? What are you talking about?"
He nodded. "Sorry. I thought you knew. That little pixy looking woman seems to be telling people you poisoned the girl. They're all flocking to her booth to get the details. It turns out people will buy from you if you have a juicy story to tell."
I gasped louder. "Suzanna? That little French tart?"
He nodded. "I do believe she has an accent."
"Why that little—!" I said and stopped before I said something I would be sorry for. It figured. I should have seen it sooner. There were plenty of people flocking to her booth, but I didn't want to think about it when my own booth was miserably empty. "I will have a little talk with her."
“I don’t believe you poisoned her. The young woman that died probably took illicit drugs or something. Young people are always taking drugs and doing things to endanger their health. Her death is her own fault.”
I looked at him. What was he talking about? “She seemed healthy.”
"Say, if you're interested, you should stop by my botanical gardens while you're in town for the festival. I have vitamins and herbs in my shop, and then there's the garden itself. It's very interesting if I do say so myself."
I stared at him. He switched topics quickly. "Yeah, sure," I said.
He handed me a flyer. "Here. It's easy to get to. I also have fresh honey from my own beehives. All organic, of course."
I nodded. "Yeah, maybe Alec and I will stop by." I looked toward Suzanna's booth and saw a crowd gathered around. My mouth went dry. That little woman was getting on my nerves and I would not stand for it anymore.
"I sure hope you'll stop by. I find athletes can benefit from supplementation far more than they know, if they only knew," he said and chuckled at his own joke. "Seriously. I think if an athlete is properly supplemented, they can improve their PR by leaps and bounds."
I turned back to him. "Yeah, okay," I said absently. I hardly heard a word he said. My mind was on more important things. "Thanks, Barnabas. I appreciate all your help. And I really appreciate the smoothie."
I turned and walked toward Suzanna's booth. She was going to get an earful.
The front of Suzanna's booth was crowded with people and I pulled up short. An image of me berating her in front of all those people sprang to mind, and I realized I might set myself up for a public lynching. They already thought there was a possibility I had killed an innocent young woman, and they might just snap if they saw me verbally attacking Suzanna. I turned around and went back to my booth to stew and decide what I should do.
Chapter Eleven
"Listen, you little French tart," I began, poking my finger at Suzanna. It was day five of the festival and I was about to have a showdown with Suzanna. She would think twice about spreading rumors about my food. "I know you're spreading rumors about my baked goods. And if you think I will sit quietly by and allow that to happen, you can forget about it."
Suzanna crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Why are you here?"
I could match her arrogant stance with my own arrogant stance. I put my hands on my hips, jutting one out to the side. "You know why. You're telling people the dead girl ate one of my cupcakes."
"And what's wrong with that?" she asked. "It's the truth."
"You don't know that. Just because she had pink frosting on her lips and a half-eaten cupcake in her booth, does not mean she ate one of my cupcakes. It's a strawberry festival and I'm sure other vendors have baked goods with pink frosting. You're spreading rumors so people won't buy any of my desserts."
"You don't know that for sure. Everyone's talking about the dead girl. Everyone. I'm simply telling what I know. She ate one of your cupcakes and then she died." She shrugged. "What else is there to tell?"
I gasped. "What you need to tell people is that you have no idea how she died, which is the complete and whole truth. What is wrong with you? I cannot believe you!" I wanted to stomp my feet and throw a tantrum, but I held it together.
"I'm sorry you do not approve of me telling what I know about the situation. But I dislike you, so I cannot lie for you."
I groaned inwardly. I could not stand this woman with her carefully coifed hair and her bright red lipstick. Not to mention her cute little French figure. It really was true that French women don't get fat. I had to run to keep from gaining weight from all those desserts I had to taste test, but I was sure she never exercised.
"You're telling people my baked goods are poison. That's slander."
She shrugged. "Call it what you want. I'm telling what I know about the situation."
"Suzanna. You're being ridiculous. Look, let's call a truce, shall we?" I suggested. "I won't tell everyone your desserts taste like cigarettes and you don't tell everyone the dead girl ate my cupcakes before dying."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "You tell people my desserts taste like cigarettes?"
I shrugged. "Maybe once or twice. Everyone knows Europeans like to smoke. It's a nasty habit."
She put her hands on her hips, cursed in French, and narrowed her eyes at me. "You fool. I have never smoked and my desserts taste pure and sweet and delicious. You're just jealous."
"Fine. Do we have a truce?"
She stared at me a moment. "Okay. We have a truce."
Nodding, I turned and left. I was not shaking hands on our agreement. It was doubtful she would keep her part of the bargain, anyway. Not that it would help with the festival almost over already, but Sandy Harbor wasn't that far away and her lie might spread. It would be the end of my baking career if it did.
"Well, what are you up to?" Alec asked when I got back to the booth.
"I'm bored. Let's go visit Barnabas's botanical garden thingy," I suggested. "Lucy, do you mind watching the booth?"
I needed to get away from this place. Suzanna had gotten on my last nerve and I needed a breath of fresh air.
"I don't mind," she said around a mouthful of strawberry scone.
"Come on," I said to Alec and headed to his car without looking over my shoulder to see if he was following.
***
The garden was on the outskirts of town and there was a big green and cream-colored sign out front. I had dropped by Barnabas's booth earlier that morning and the young woman running it said Barnabas had stayed at the shop to attend to business.
Alec held open the door to the shop for me and I entered. My eyes scanned the shop, and I smiled. The shop was quaint with shelves full of jars of supplements, jams, jellies, and honey. There was something cute and homey about it. Barnabas popped out from an aisle and gave us a big smile when he saw us.
"How wonderful!" he said. "I'm so glad you stopped by. Make yourselves at home. There are lots of things to see."
"Thanks," I said. "I told Alec how tasty the smoothie was that you made for me. I can almost swear my muscles feel better today."
"See? What did I tell you?" he gushed. "Maca is the biggest botanical secret on earth. It almost feels like a miracle. I'm a jogger, myself. I would never say I was a runner like the two of you, but I can jog with the best of them."
I smiled at him. Barnabas had a lot of energy and I wondered if it was due to his supplements and smoothies. I could use some of that energy.
"How long have you been in business?" Alec asked, looking over the products on the shelves. He stopped and picked up a jar and read the label.
"Almost fifteen years. I studied botany in college and came straight back here and got to work on my garden. A few years later I opened the shop. I needed to support the garden, you know."
I had to admit the place had a certain charm to it. The labels on the jars had a vintage look to them and added to the quaint feel of the place.
"So do you harvest and process the herbs here?" I asked.
He nodded. "Come see," he said and led the way to the back of the shop. He opened a door to a room, and I followed him. There were microwaves and a dehydrator inside and a supply of jars. Along one wall was a stainless steel sink, and a built-in dishwasher.
"Wow, you have quite the setup," I said, looking around.
"We have regular health inspections, of course," he said. "I have a license for handling foodstuffs. I wouldn't want to break any laws."
I nodded. "How interesting. So do you do a good business here?"
"I do very well. Sanford might not look it, but folks around here are very health-conscious. I suppose the marathon helps people to be more aware of physical fitness. Not to mention there are other races held throughout the year."
"That's great. I wish we had a place like this closer to Sandy Harbor," I said. "I have to buy most of my vitamins and supplements online."
Barnabas muttered 'tsk tsk' and shook his head. "All those supplements you buy online are old and stale. They lose most of their potency before they get to you."
"Do you think so?" I asked. I hadn't thought about it, but it made sense. They were probably stored in a warehouse for a while before being shipped out.
He nodded. "Come see," he said and led me out of the room. We headed into the shop and back to a display of dried fruits and vegetables. "I have plenty of foodstuffs. Healthy snacks. Fresh and dried herbs. When you buy from me, you get only the freshest."
I smiled. "That's great, Barnabas. I could see something like this working in Sandy Harbor. We have a lot of health-conscious people there."
"Perhaps I should branch out? Open a second store in Sandy Harbor?"
"That's not a bad idea. The drive wouldn't be too far for you to keep it supplied with herbs and supplements. You could hire someone local to run the shop. After they eat my desserts, they could stop by for something healthy."
He stopped smiling. "Desserts are fine for very rare occasions, but they shouldn't be indulged in too often. I'm surprised someone like you would indulge in a hobby like baking."
I stared back at him, unsure of what to say. "Well, ah, you know, it's in the blood. My grandmama taught me all I know about baking."
He waved a hand at me. "I suppose it can't be helped. Is that a Southern accent I hear?"
He sighed. "Those Southern people. They do like to eat."
My mouth dropped open. I closed it, and then opened it again to say something, but he turned and headed over to Alec.
"Have you found something you like?" he asked Alec.
"I did. I think I want to try some of the green tea extract," Alec said holding up a bottle to him.
I breathed out in exasperation as I watched Barnabas hurry over to Alec. Baking wasn't a hobby of mine. It was my life. It was my family's life. Giving it up would be detrimental to my well-being. What a depressing thought.
Chapter Twelve
If Suzanna had stopped telling people Tessa Brady was poisoned by my cupcakes, I couldn't tell it by the number of scones I sold. I had only sold two dozen by closing time. I sighed looking at all we would have to load back up into Alec's SUV and take home. Was it worth baking something for tomorrow's festival? There were two more days of the festival left and part of me hated to quit, but a bigger part of me hated to waste the time, energy, and money baking something that would go to waste. It hurt my little Southern heart that no one wanted my baked goods.
"Don't look so sad," Alec said, putting his arm around my shoulders. "It's just a fluke, and while it feels bad right now, it's temporary. These people will move on with their lives and forget who you are."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" I asked.
"It's better than having your killer cupcakes seared into their minds, never to buy another baked good from you again."
I elbowed him in the ribs. He was right even though I hated to admit it. I hated the wasted time and energy, but at least this hadn't happened at home in Sandy Harbor.
"Okay. You're right. I need to move on."
He nodded. "That's my girl."
"Allie, what are you bringing tomorrow?" Lucy asked. "I told Ed he needed to come for the rest of the festival. Otherwise, I would buy everything I could get my hands on."
"I bet he'll be here then," I said. "I was debating on whether I would make something or not."