by Amber Crewes
“That’s the way to do it,” Trudy chimed in. “Politics are no one else’s business.”
“Yeah!” Pamela added, though she was not quite old enough to vote.
Jack sighed. “Do you want to press charges against her?” he asked his wife, pulling out his notepad and pen. “I can charge her for harassment, but it is up to you. You have two witnesses, so it is a strong case, but given the town is up in arms about this murder case, I don’t know how much attention a harassment charge against the mayor’s wife would garner right now.”
She shook her head. “Don’t do it,” she instructed him. “I don’t want to press charges. I just want them to leave me alone. The look in Mrs. Rose eyes was creepy; it was as if she had been possessed. And the way he cornered Pamela? The Mayor seems more dangerous than I thought, Jack. I’m worried.”
“Then maybe a restraining order against both of them,” he suggested. “I can get that filed for you in a jiff, babe. What do you think?”
Meghan nodded. “That seems more appropriate,” she agreed. “I just want this mess to be over. I don’t want to have to worry about angry mayors and murderers.”
“They might be one and the same,” he murmured to her, pulling her close and moving her hair back to whisper into her ear.
“What do you mean?” she asked in alarm. “Jack, do you mean the mayor murdered Anthony?”
Jack’s blue eyes were filled with concern. “I can’t quite say,” he told her softly. “But we’ve found some major evidence to show that the mayor was discussing a hit on Anthony.”
“To kill him?” she gasped.
“Exactly,” her husband affirmed. “We still have a lot of work to do on the case, but from what we gathered, it looks like Mayor Rose’s arrest today was a lucky thing; I suspect he knows a lot more about Anthony Diggs’ murder than he’s letting on, and if I’m not mistaken, I think he did it himself.”
16
T hat evening, when Meghan returned home, she was in need of a quiet night; after the incident with Mayor Rose and Mrs. Rose, she felt exhausted, drained from the stress of being yelled at and worried about how Pamela was doing. All she wanted to do was relax, take a hot bath, and drink a glass of red wine.
When she stepped through the front door, she was horrified to find her living room had been redone again, though this time, the changes were much more dramatic than the original makeover Sarah had done. The walls had been repainted mauve, the couch and armchair had been covered with mint green linen with a variety of brown throw pillows resting on top. There was a giant round beige and purple rug on the floor, and the coffee table had been brought back, though it was stained a deep shade of mahogany that did not match any of the finishings in the house.
She glanced around looking for her dogs, furious when she heard barking from outside. She rushed to the back door and threw it open; all three dogs hurried inside, with Fiesta and Siesta shivering from the cold.
“Sarah?” she cried out angrily as she picked up Siesta and held her to her chest. “Sarah? Are you here?”
Sarah came down the stairs wearing a pink bathrobe and slippers, her hair wrapped up in a towel. “Why are you shouting?” she asked as Meghan narrowed her eyes. “I am trying to relax in the bathtub, Meghan. Is the shouting necessary?”
Meghan placed Siesta on the floor and put her hands on her hips. “Yes,” she began. “I think shouting is necessary, Sarah. What happened to the living room?”
Sarah smiled, her bright blue eyes crinkling as she clapped her hands in excitement. “Don’t you love it?” she asked. “I thought the mauve looked nice with the ceilings. That other color you had was so dull, Meghan. A lady never wants her living room to be perceived as dull.”
Meghan stomped her foot, surprising even herself with the outburst. “I liked the beige walls we had before,” she insisted. “I selected the color myself, Sarah. And you changed it without asking!”
Sarah crossed her arms. “I don’t like your tone,” she commented as Meghan’s face reddened. “It’s not becoming.”
“You aren’t my mother,” Meghan declared, throwing her arms open and gesturing at the living room. “And you aren’t the lady of this house. You don’t have the right to make decisions about our home, Sarah. It’s my house. Mine and Jack’s. And we decide what changes get to be made, not you.”
Sarah stared at Meghan. “That tone,” she clucked. “Truly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Jack told me to make myself at home, and I thought some little changes would be lovely. I thought you would be grateful for my help, and clearly that is not the case, Meghan.”
Meghan clenched her hands into fists, the anger rising and swelling in her chest. “Sarah, Jack and I are a married couple,” she continued. “We are married to each other. We are adults, and we are in charge of this house. Any changes need to be run by us. You can’t just show up at my work, you can’t just paint the walls, and you can’t stick my dogs outside in the middle of a cold winter evening.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “Someone is a little angry.”
“A little angry? I am livid, Sarah. I have held my tongue about your comments and meddling for the last week and a half, but I can’t do it anymore. You have to respect me. I don’t know what I have to do to earn your respect, but I need you to tell me so we can both just get along and move on.”
Jack walked into the room with a pained look on his face. “What’s happening? Meghan? Why are you speaking to my mother that way?”
Sarah pouted, sticking her lips out and batting her eyelashes. “She’s been cross with me during this entire visit,” she complained. “And now, she’s verbally abusing me, Jack. It isn’t right to let your wife speak to your mother like that.”
Meghan gasped. “Jack, go look at our living room!”
“I saw it,” he admitted, his lips turning downward into a frown.
“And?” she asked. “And what are you going to do about it? Your mother has no boundaries, and her meddling is hurting our marriage.”
Jack stared at her. “I spoke with my mom about interfering with the household decor and showing up at your work,” he told her quietly. “And mom, Meghan is happy you are here. She just needs you to back off a bit with making changes.”
Sarah smiled. “Of course, dear. Whatever you say.”
He turned to Meghan. “See? It’s all better.”
Meghan shook her head. “I need her to apologize,” she insisted. “I need her to recognize that she’s been out of line.”
“I’m not taking sides anymore,” he announced, turning on his heel and striding away. “You two need to work this out yourselves.”
Meghan and Sarah stared as he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He turned on the television and began watching a basketball game.
Meghan tiptoed into the room and sat down next to him, and Sarah followed. They sat on both sides of him, all three Irvins sitting in silence as the announcer called out plays.
“I can make some popcorn?” Meghan quietly suggested. “For all of us? I’ll even add caramel and salt—your favorite toppings, Jack.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “How about I make dinner for all of us?” she suggested. “I can make steak and macaroni—your favorites, Jack. And I’ll make fresh popcorn with caramel, salt, and butter. I know those are your favorite toppings, dear.”
Meghan frowned. She rose from her seat. “I’ll go pick up dinner for us from Urchins Paradise!” she told them. “We’ll do seafood and treats.”
Sarah laughed. “Jack doesn’t like seafood,” she said snarkily. “You should probably know that about him, Meghan.”
“ENOUGH,” Jack boomed. “That is enough. You are both acting like children. Mom, you have to back off of the decorating and the little comments about Meghan. She’s a great wife and takes good care of me, and she is my highest priority. Meghan, you have to stop letting my mom get to you. She is who she is, and if you take it too personally, you are going to lose your mind. My mom mean
s well, and you need to see the good in her.”
He stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Meghan and Sarah to stare at each other. “I’m sorry,” Sarah finally broke the silence, sitting back down and burying her head in her hands. “I don’t have any daughters, Meghan, and my own mother was a monster. She constantly put me down and criticized me, and it’s all I know how to do. I’m sorry. You are a lovely woman, and Jack is lucky to have you. I am lucky to have you as a daughter-in-law.”
Meghan blinked. “Really?”
“Really,” Sarah agreed. “I can only imagine I’ve been a bit of a pain for you, and you are right: I don’t have a lot of boundaries, and that is a problem I need to work on. I’m sorry.”
Meghan’s heart warmed. Sarah was being genuine and kind, and Meghan had never heard her be this candid before.
“I’m sorry, too,” she apologized quietly, reaching over to take Sarah’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I could have been more patient with you, and I wasn’t honest about how I felt about things you did to the house. I could have spoken up and saved us both a lot of heartache.”
Sarah smiled weakly. “Can this be our truce?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. “Can we start over? I want us to get along, and I want to be a mother-in-law you love and enjoy, not one that makes you cringe.”
Meghan nodded. “I think this is our truce,” she agreed. “Let’s start fresh, Sarah. This is our new beginning, and you are always welcome in our home.”
That night, after the three Irvins had eaten takeout pizza (Jack’s idea) and watched an 80s romance (Sarah’s idea), Meghan and Jack settled onto the pullout couch to go to sleep.
“That was the kind of family night I’ve been dreaming about,” Jack grinned as he pulled Meghan into his arms. “You and my mom are like two peas in a pod. I think you two will grow into good friends.”
“I think we will too,” Meghan smiled back at him, feeling her spirits lift. “Do you have a busy day tomorrow?” she asked.
“I do,” he told her, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek. “The Diggs investigation is taking a lot more time than I expected, and I probably won’t be home until eight or nine.”
“What’s going on, anyway?” she asked. “You said you had some more information about the mayor?”
“You know I can’t tell you,” he told her, kissing her on the nose. “But if I could, I would tell you that a man arrested in Nevada on unrelated charges gave us some useful information.”
“What did he say?” she asked. “A man in Nevada?”
“The state police got him for a drug charge,” he explained. “And he offered to spill some secrets about other crimes to decrease his charges. He had a lot of cash on him, too, and he said he had gotten it from Roland Rose.”
“Our Mayor?” she gasped. “Seriously?”
“That’s what this guy said,” Jack confirmed. “The Mayor had been making some big payments to this guy. The last payment, from what we can tell, came the day before Diggs was killed.”
The color drained from her face. “You’re kidding.”
“It was all in black and white,” Jack told her. “Though we found something else…”
“What is it?”
“We found a message from the mayor to this guy,” he told her quietly. “The message urged the guy not to do it. He didn’t specify what the it was, but he said don’t do it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Meghan sighed. “Especially not if you have evidence of payments between them.”
Jack frowned. “There’s a problem, though,” he told her. “That guy in Nevada? There’s a paper trail that tells us he wasn’t in Sandy Bay on the night Diggs was murdered. He was in Panama City, Florida. We have video and bank statements to prove it.”
“So, what you’re saying is…”
“What I’m saying is that the Mayor has some shady stuff going on,” Jack told her matter-of-factly. “But we aren’t sure if that includes murder.”
Meghan’s stomach twisted into a knot. “So, if the Mayor didn’t do it,” she wondered aloud. “Who killed Anthony Diggs?”
17
“I
f we don’t add the cream filling, it will be ruined!”
It was early the next morning, and Meghan, Trudy, and Pamela were standing over three plates of red velvet cake. Erin had emailed them some notes about the tasting, and she had requested some adjustments be made to the red velvet cake.
“I don’t think it’s the filling,” Meghan protested, gesturing at the cake. “I don’t think she liked the coconut flour. It’s an easy fix, ladies; we will just use almond flour instead. Almond flour is the most similar to regular flour, and I think that will do the trick.”
Trudy lifted a fork to her mouth and took a bite. “The flavor is so rich,” she smiled, chewing slowly. “Adding milk to the recipe was a great idea, Pamela.”
“I’m just worried about the filling,” Pamela repeated. “Erin’s notes said that it could use a little something. I think we should reconsider using the cream cheese filling.”
Just then, a familiar voice filled the dining room. “Karen’s here,” Meghan murmured, putting her fork down and wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll be right back, ladies. I’m going to run out and say hello.”
“Wait,” Pamela called out. “Take a slice of the cake. Maybe Karen will have an idea.”
Meghan smiled and took a plate of the red velvet cake. “Great idea, Pamela.”
She walked into the dining room with a wide grin on her face, happy to see her good friend. Though they were decades apart in age, Karen and Meghan had become fast friends when they had met in Los Angeles a few years ago. Karen was a retired nurse living in the same building as Meghan, and they had instantly connected. When Karen had left Los Angeles and returned to her hometown of Sandy Bay, she invited Meghan to come with her. On a whim, Meghan had decided to join her friend, and thanks to Karen, she was now happily living and working in the Pacific Northwest.
“What brings you in this morning?” Meghan asked as Karen wiped her brow.
Dressed in a pair of velour jogging pants and a matching jacket, Karen smiled and flexed her biceps. “I was just finishing a jog,” she told Meghan. “I was feeling a little low blood sugar, and I popped in for a treat.”
“You came to the right place,” Meghan told her. “I have something special for you to try.”
“Is it vegan?” Karen asked in alarm as she looked at the cake.
“We added a splash of milk,” Meghan admitted. “Can you deal with it, or should I grab a vegan bagel for you?”
Karen held the plate to her face and inhaled. “I think I can make this work,” she smiled. “It smells amazing, Meghan.”
Meghan gave her a fork, and Karen took a bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tried,” she praised as Meghan beamed. “You could convince me to end my veganism for cake like this. It’s incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Meghan told her. “We’re working on the recipe and making adjustments, but I think this might be the final recipe we work with.”
“It’s divine,” Karen praised. “I don’t think it could be any better.”
A woman examining desserts at the counter turned to look at them. “Is that red velvet cake?” she asked Meghan. “I would love some of that. It smells so good.”
Meghan turned and called out to the kitchen. “Pamela? How many slices do we have left of the red velvet cake?”
“Two slices left,” the teenager replied.
Meghan nodded at the woman. “We can have one sent to your table in a just a moment.”
A man barreled over with a five-dollar bill in his hand. “Red velvet cake? I didn’t know you had that in stock. I want some,” he insisted, slapping the cash into Meghan’s hand. “Take this. Keep the change.”
Meghan smiled. “Have a seat and we’ll bring it right out.”
A woman with two small children came over and tugged on Meghan’s sleeve. “I
heard you have red velvet cake?” she asked. “My kids want some. Can I order a slice?”
Meghan bit her lip. “We just sold our last two pieces for the day,” she explained apologetically. “I am so sorry. If you come back tomorrow, you can have a fresh slice.”
The woman stared at her. “It’s for my kids,” she repeated, gesturing at the two elementary-aged children with her. “Come on, lady. Surely you have another slice? Or, I can give you ten dollars for the last slice. I saw that guy only gave you five.”
She pressed a ten-dollar bill into Meghan’s hand. “Come on. Take my money. My kids have been begging for cake, and you’ll be doing me a favor.”
“I’m sorry,” Meghan told her. “I already sold our last two slices.”
The woman angrily marched over to the man who was waiting for his cake. “This is your fault,” she screeched. “You don’t have kids with you. Give me the slice of cake. My kids want it. It’s not like you need it, anyway.”
He rose from his seat. “Excuse me?”
“You could stand to lose some weight,” she continued. “Just let me buy that slice of cake. Come on, man.”
He glowered at her. “Walk away, lady.”
“Or what?”
“Hey,” Meghan interjected, moving to stand between them. “Please stop this. I don’t want to ask you to leave, but I am going to have to take action if you two continue this.”
“She started it,” the man pointed at the woman. “I was just sitting here minding my own business and she started harassing me.”
The woman glared at him. “Can’t you do a mother a favor? Is it that hard to be a good person these days?”
She tried to dart past Meghan to get closer to the man, but Meghan held her ground. “Ma’am, please take your kids and go home,” she asked politely. “Please.”
The front door opened, and James Kittle strode in. “I heard the shouting from the street,” he announced as he put a hand on the woman’s arm. “What’s going on? If Mrs. Irvin asked you to leave, you need to go.”