by Meg Muldoon
She stepped closer to me, lowering her voice.
“I probably shouldn’t say anything,” she said. “Though I don’t see any harm in telling you. But let’s go back inside. I wouldn’t want any voters to overhear.”
Chapter 21
Joyce looked nervous, but also slightly relieved. As if she’d been waiting to tell this story for a long time.
“Many of us were uncomfortable from the beginning when we learned that Penelope had turned the book club into this clique of upper class citizens,” she said. “But I couldn’t afford to turn the mayor into an enemy. Not with the school improvement proposition up for approval. So despite my reservations, I decided to just read the assigned books, attend the meetings, and act like I was having a good time rather than make a fuss about it.”
She sighed.
“The meetings gave Penelope a chance to spout off her own opinions about books and make herself sound smart and well-read. I think most of the other members, including myself, were bored stiff and attendance started to wane. But then Penelope announced that the May meeting would feature a special guest and would be a fancy soiree at her house rather than a book discussion. People became interested in the club again.”
“Was Nigel Parks by any chance that special guest?” I asked, remembering how he’d mentioned it earlier.
She nodded.
“Needless to say, everybody showed up to the May meeting,” Joyce continued. “I mean, even I was so excited to be meeting a bestselling mystery author. I’ve driven by Cliffside Manor so many times, but never had the pleasure of meeting Nigel in person.”
Everyone in town had adopted Nigel’s name for his sprawling house, as if Broomfield Bay was a town out of a Jane Austen novel.
“We were all impressed that Penelope had gotten Nigel to speak to our group,” she continued. “Some of us were a little more than impressed. I mean, have you ever seen what a handsome, single, rich author can do to a flock of middle-aged ladies?”
“Actually, I have,” I said. “Every day at 12:45. That’s when Nigel comes here for lunch.”
“Really? I thought he rarely left his estate.”
“I guess even handsome, single, rich authors have to eat.”
Joyce smiled.
“Well, the women in the book club were all going after Nigel like killer whales after a seal,” she continued. “But it was what happened afterwards that was really bad.”
“What happened?”
“Well, after Nigel left, Penelope said that we were going to play a murder mystery game based on one of his books. You know, like the games they used to play at house parties in the old days? At first we were all thrilled about the idea. After all, it was much more fun than listening to Penelope. But then, she had all the doors to her house locked from the outside, confiscated our cell phones so we wouldn’t cheat, and said that nobody was allowed to leave until we solved the fake crime. At first, we thought it was a joke. But when we couldn’t figure out the mystery, we found out that Penelope wasn’t joking at all.”
I noticed that her face was turning red.
“I mean, can you believe that? She locked us in her house all night and refused to let us out. People were really angry. But Penelope was adamant, and we stayed in that house for hours. Because she played the murder victim, she disappeared until early morning. We couldn’t find her anywhere.”
“Wait. Penelope played the murder victim at the meeting?”
I could feel my eyes grow big at the news that a month before actually becoming a murder victim, Penelope pretended to be one. The irony of that caused sharp chills to rush through my body.
“Yep, Ginger. She was completely deranged. I mean, we had lives and people waiting for us at home. It was maddening. Mike Riggins missed an early business meeting that morning and wasn’t able to close a deal. Kendra Edwards had left her kids with the babysitter and was frantic. I heard later that she went to the mayor’s office and threatened to take her to court over what happened. Others were thinking about joining the lawsuit, too. I heard the word impeachment a few times. I mean, she basically kidnapped us, Ginger. Our own mayor!”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“That’s so crazy,” I said.
“Whatever the book club was or wasn’t, it was finished with that little charade of hers. People were really mad at Penelope. Come November, I’m sure she wouldn’t have been re-elected. Not a chance in heck.”
It sounded like Penelope may have had enemies other than just Aunt Viv.
“Do you think…” I started asking. “I mean, do you think that…”
I couldn’t seem to find the right way to phrase it.
But I didn’t need to.
“Do I think someone was mad enough at the mayor to cut the brakes of her car?” Joyce said.
I was surprised at how bluntly she phrased it.
“Ginger? I must have had that very thought a thousand times since I heard it wasn’t an accident.”
Chapter 22
As I shuffled downstairs in my robe and slippers at a quarter past four the next morning, I was surprised to smell buttery French toast in the air.
I paused and checked the big grandfather clock at the base of the stairs to make sure I hadn’t slept in by accident.
I hadn’t.
What was she doing up at 4:15 a.m.?
“Ginger Marie, you’re just in time!”
Aunt Viv’s voice rang out from the kitchen, bouncing along the walls of the old Victorian with so much enthusiasm it hurt my ears.
I clumsily descended the rest of the steps, and before entering the kitchen, took in a deep breath.
I smiled at the familiar, nostalgic smell.
It was the special treat that Aunt Viv used to make for me on Saturdays when I was a kid. She used to work every day of the week at the café, but on Saturdays, she stayed home late in the mornings to make me my favorite breakfast.
“Cinnamon Ginger French Toast?” I said, walking into the kitchen. “What’s going on? Are you trying to let me down easy again like with the salmon chowder?”
“No, hon. Nothing like that,” she said, turning around toward me. “I promise. No one’s coming to the door this morning to deliver papers of any sort.”
She was wearing the same outfit that I’d seen her in the night before, and her makeup was still on. It appeared that Aunt Viv hadn’t slept one wink.
For most people who had just been hauled in for questioning in a homicide, that would have been understandable. But looking at her chipper expression, I didn’t think worry was the reason she’d been up all night.
I yawned, feeling Lindsey Buckingham brush up against the back of my leg.
The large orange cat gazed up at me with big, needy eyes.
“Meeoooww!”
“Oh, would you be a dear, Ginger, and pet Lindsey?” Aunt Viv said, gesturing with her spatula toward the cat. “The poor little lion beast has been lonely.”
I did as she asked, and Lindsey started purring up a storm.
“But really, what’s going on? How come you’re up so early?” I asked, still feeling suspicious.
“No reason, hon,” she said, flipping the French bread in the frying pan. “I’ve been up all night writing my book. I tell you, being a suspect in Penny’s murder sure made my memoir a heck of a lot more interesting! It could become a bestseller!”
A moment later, a pile of powdered sugar, cinnamon, and ginger-dusted French toast slabs sat in front of me along with a steaming cup of coffee in my favorite mug.
I grinned, feeling like an eight-year-old again.
“Well, this is such a treat, Aunt Viv,” I said, laying a napkin out over my lap. “You really didn’t have to trouble yourself.”
“It’s my pleasure, hon,” she said, leaning across the kitchen island. “Breakfast of champions, I always say.”
I poured on some maple syrup and started digging in. She waited until I had a big mouthful of the egg-soaked bread in my mouth to spri
ng it on me.
“So… a little birdy told me you’re having dinner with our old friend Eddie Cross tonight.”
Her eyebrows wiggled up and down a couple of times.
I stopped chewing.
“Is that why you made me breakfast? So you could corner me into talking about Eddie Cross being back in town?”
She took a sip of coffee and tilted her head.
“Maybe. But I think it’s wonderful news. He came by the house yesterday, you know, to talk about the murder. And boy oh boy, has he turned out drop-dead handsome. He invited me along to your dinner tonight, but I wouldn’t think of ruining your date.”
My eyes bulged.
“I think a date – not to mention a date with a kind, honest, hunk like Eddie – might be just what the doctor—”
“It’s not a date,” I said. “It’s just dinner at The Chowder Bowl. To catch up. He doesn’t even know that I’m… well, separated. He thinks Steve’s coming along.”
“Well, whatever it is, dear, it’s a step in the right direction.”
She let out a long, happy sigh.
“You know, Eddie was always my favorite,” she said. “Nothing against Steve – though there’s plenty to hold against that man lately. But Eddie’s always been the whole package – he’s kind, smart-as-a-whip, and he’s caring. Not to mention the fact that he’s only gotten better-looking with the passing years. I mean, to look at him now, you wouldn’t even know that the accident had ever happened—”
I stood up abruptly before she could finish the sentence. The fork and knife clanged loudly against the plate.
“I’ve got to get ready for work,” I said.
She reached out and patted my hand.
“Ginger Marie, what happened wasn’t your fault. It’s time you realized that you couldn’t have—”
But I didn’t want to hear it.
I pulled my hand away and left, abandoning the half-eaten breakfast and rushing upstairs before she could finish the sentence.
Chapter 23
I threw on a pair of jeans and slipped into some comfortable flats. I applied a layer of foundation and dabbed a little blush on my cheeks. I threw my hair up into a high ponytail, grabbed my purse, then left my bedroom.
I felt bad.
Here Aunt Viv had gotten up early and made me a nice breakfast and I’d barely eaten it, let alone thanked her.
I couldn’t leave things like this.
I came down the stairs looking for her, noticing that her car, which we’d left up at the Eagle Ridge Trailhead lot, was now parked in the driveway.
How had that happened? My plan had been to take Aunt Viv to the trailhead in the afternoon to retrieve the car, but with her pink VW Bug now sitting in the gravel driveway, there wasn’t any need.
I looked around, but Aunt Viv wasn’t in the house. I figured there was only one place she could be at this hour.
I walked out into the yard, stepping through the damp, mushy grass and over to the garden shed. Just as I suspected, she was there, crushing dried lavender for the satchels she sold at the Farmer’s Market. She had her floppy straw hat on and looked very focused on what she was doing.
“Sorry, Aunt Viv,” I said softly to her back. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I got a little touchy.”
“No worries, hon,” she said. “I should have known better than to bring it up.”
She didn’t turn around to look at me.
“It’s just… I haven’t even signed the divorce papers yet. And truthfully, I’m still just trying to figure out what happened. I mean, is it really over? Ten years, just like that? And Eddie. Well, Eddie and I will never be…”
I trailed off.
Aunt Viv turned around and gave me a long hug, patting my back with her garden gloves.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. I just want the best for you, is all. And I think it’s finally time for you to be happy, Ginger Marie.”
“It’s only been three months since Steve left.”
But she pulled away and just stared at me with a knowing expression.
“Maybe. But I haven’t seen that sparkle in your eyes for ages. And for the first time in quite a while, you had it when I was talking about Eddie. It was just like back when you were a teenager. You still get love-struck at just the mere mention of his name. And maybe I’m wrong, but I get this feeling you haven’t exactly been love struck by Steve in a long, long while.”
I bit my lip, not wanting to admit it to myself. But deep down, on some level, I knew she was right. Even though Steve and I were okay, it had been a long while since either one of us felt those passionate feelings for each other.
More missed signs, I guess.
“You take your time here, Ginger Marie, and think about what you really want,” she said. “I mean it. You deserve the best, hon.”
“You’re not upset with me?”
She let out a laugh, pinching my cheek lightly with her garden glove, then brushing off the dirt it left behind.
“I could never be upset with you. Never, ever. Except, I guess, when you won’t take ol’ Vivy gambling.”
Relief flooded through me.
If I thought she was upset with me, I wouldn’t be able to stand it.
“So what are your plans for the day?” I asked, clearing my throat.
She smiled, her brightly painted coral-stained lips glowing in the shadowy shed.
“I have a million things to get ready for the markets, so I’ll probably just be here at the house all day. And I’m thinking about making some mint chocolate chip ice cream, too. We’ve got so much peppermint growing this year, I don’t know what to do with it all.”
“You want me to hang around and help for a while? I don’t mind.”
“Heavens no,” she said. “You best get to the café. They’ll need you today.”
She grabbed a straw hat off the shelf, handing it to me. Aunt Viv was always worried about the beach sun baking my rather pasty complexion.
“Oh hey, before I go, when did you find time to pick up your car?”
“That nice Southern inspector dropped it by with one of the other officers just before you woke up. I told them during the interrogation that I had to abandon my car up at Eagle Ridge because you said I had to see them at once. And what a kind fellow, he went and picked it up for me. He even remembered that I hardly sleep, and brought it by early. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?”
I felt my muscles tense.
Sweetest, my behind.
“Oh, no, Aunt Viv. You didn’t say anything to him while he was here, did you? You didn’t answer any questions, right? Is he even allowed to just drop by like that?”
“Relax, hon. Everything’s going to be peachy keen,” she continued. “Don’t you worry one iota about your old aunt and this Penelope Ashby business. I’ve weathered plenty of storms in my day, and I can feel that this one has already spun itself out. I think talking to the police chief yesterday helped set him straight. What you and I really need to focus on is painting our house so we can get that blasted Historical Society off our backs once and for all. I have a sneaking suspicion that they’ll be more determined than ever to cause a ruckus. Penny had a lot of friends on the board. They’ll be out for blood. Mine!”
Maybe I was just worrying too much again when I didn’t need to.
“Okay. We’ll work on a plan tonight,” I said.
“After your dinner with Eddie, of course.”
“Yes. After that.”
“Stay positive hon, and remember all the good coming out of this.”
“You’re saying there’s good in Penelope’s death?” I said raising my eyebrows.
I was glad no investigators were around to overhear her say that.
“Oh, you can find good in just about every bad situation if you look hard enough,” she said. “When one door closes, another will open. Maybe even two, in this instance.”
This was classic Aunt Viv, always looking for that gold dust e
ven in the middle of a hurricane.
“What doors?”
“Well, one door that opened has to do with money. In these next few weeks I think you’re going to be making a ton of it being that our town has turned into a popular circus freak show. Thanks to ol’ Penny, all those reporters and investigators will be hungry, and not just for a story but for actual food. It’s going to be a nice payday, Ginger Marie!”
I couldn’t argue with that. The receipts from yesterday already pointed to the best day in five years at the café.
“I guess you’ve got a point there,” I said. “What’s the other door?”
“Hmm?”
“You said maybe even two doors in this instance. What’s the other good thing that might come out of all this?”
But Aunt Viv didn’t answer the question. At least, not really.
“The winds are changing, Ginger Marie. That’s all I can say right now. Oh, and when you get home tonight, let’s talk about our plans to celebrate the solstice coming up, okay? I’m afraid it’s shaping up to be a low-key one this year and we should plan accordingly. But right now, I’ve got some mint to harvest and you’ve got a café full of hungry people waiting for you. We both better get to work.”
Aunt Viv gave me a long, juicy hug.
I said goodbye, then headed down to the beach, wondering what she knew but wasn’t saying.
Chapter 24
The morning flew by in a dust storm of flour and baking powder and salt.
I mostly stayed in the kitchen, mixing and sifting, kneading, measuring, putting loaves and muffins in the oven, and taking cookie sheets and cake pans out. Keeping busy, just the way I liked.
All hands were on deck and then some, including Héctor’s two nephews who we sometimes called in to help when things got busy in the summer. The number of reporters visiting Broomfield Bay kept rising like brioche dough. And this particular morning, it seemed they didn’t have much to do except hang around Ginger’s, eat, and down gallons of coffee. Eddie was out in the dining room, too, I noticed, with a bearded guy wearing a vest and carrying a camera bag. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Eddie, though. Things were far too hectic.