by Meg Benjamin
The man standing in front of Mabel’s desk wore work clothes, jeans and a denim shirt rolled up to his elbows. After a moment, Kit recognized him as the head groundskeeper, Mr. Didrikson.
“We’ve got two weddings in the knot garden over the next month,” Mabel was saying, “and it looks horrible.”
“Half the plants were dead in there,” Didrikson explained. “I had to take them out. And there’s no budget for anything new. If you want it to look better, given me some money for petunias and lantana. They’ll take up the slack for the time being.”
Mabel pressed her lips together. “I understood the knot garden was done with perennials.”
“It was.” Didrikson shrugged. “Even perennials need water and fertilizer. Somebody here let them go to shit.”
Kit frowned. She hadn’t realized Didrikson was new too. Had Mabel hired the entire staff?
Mabel waved a hand in his general direction. “Just do the best you can. Move some stuff around. Surely we’ve got plants in the other gardens you can transfer to the knot garden.”
Didrikson muttered something that sounded like poison ivy as he stalked out, treating Kit as an obstacle to be dodged around.
Mabel glanced up at her, her mouth moving into a parody of her sunny smile. “Yes, Kit? What is it?”
Kit licked her lips again as she stepped into the office. “I had a question about event scheduling.”
Mabel’s forehead furrowed. “What about it? It’s my responsibility. Has someone been asking you about scheduling events?”
“No, well, not exactly. I noticed we’ve got an open Saturday next month.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes. “We had a cancellation. Some kind of problem with a wedding, I understand.”
Kit swallowed. Now came the hard part. “I might have an event you could book in there at that time, if it’s still available. Although it’s very short notice.”
Mabel’s eyebrow arched. “An event? What kind of event?”
“A wedding. A large one. They’ve been considering another space, but if they discovered the event center was available, they might be willing to reschedule.”
“Reschedule? A wedding?” Mabel’s eyes widened. “How can they reschedule a wedding?”
“It’s somewhat spur of the moment,” Kit improvised a little desperately. “But it’s a large group. And they’d have both the wedding and the reception here. Possibly the rehearsal dinner as well. Of course, since it’s so last minute, I assume there would be some kind of adjustment in the rental fee.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes. “Who are these people? Are they local?”
“My aunt.” Kit stared at Morgenstern, daring her to blink. “Allie Maldonado, owner of Sweet Thing bakery. Her cookbook is currently on the bestseller list at Amazon. And her fiancé is Dr. Steven Kleinschmidt, the dentist.”
After a moment, Mabel licked her lips, her glance sharpening. “Your aunt. Allie Maldonado.”
“Yes.” Kit tried another trump card. “The guests will include all the Toleffson family from Konigsburg. Docia Kent Toleffson is the matron of honor. And of course many of the most prominent restaurateurs in the state will be there, probably including some of the restaurant critics from the metropolitan newspapers and possibly Texas Monthly. It would be an excellent way to publicize the new staff at the Rose.” She had no idea if any of this was actually true, but she’d do her best to get Allie to invite a few foodies if she could nail down the damn event center. If nothing else, she could guarantee Lee and Ken from Brenner’s and the gang from Cedar Creek Winery would be there.
“Docia Kent Toleffson?” Mabel’s eyes widened. “The Kent family?”
“Yes ma’am.” Kit held her gaze. Chances of any of the other Kents besides Docia showing up for the wedding were slim, but it was barely possible. Docia’s daddy had always loved Allie’s scones.
Mabel’s lips moved into something closer to her usual smile. “I’d love to help out, dear, but I’m not willing to give away the event center for free, no matter how prominent the guests are. Even if we did have a cancellation. I have a responsibility to the inn.”
“No of course not,” Kit soothed. “But a discount might make them more willing to choose the Woodrose over some of their other possibilities.” Like Allie’s backyard, which was currently the only other place she’d been able to think of.
Mabel assumed an expression that was probably supposed to be canny. “I might be able to offer a five percent discount.”
Kit frowned slightly, as she pretended to consider it. “I’m not sure that would be enough. They really were very interested in that new resort outside Marble Falls. Their prices are quite competitive.”
Mabel’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. That is, if you don’t mind corporate food and sharing the venue with eight other parties separated by temporary partitions.” She stared down at her desk blotter for a moment. “Very well, ten percent, but I can’t possibly go below that, even for you, dear.”
“Ten percent and the right to supply the cakes from my aunt’s bakery.”
Mabel shook her head. “Oh my, that would be very irregular. We contract with Bellefleur Cakes in Austin.”
Kit shrugged. “My aunt’s cakes are famous. She’s done weddings all over the state. She’s even air-freighted cakes to Los Angeles and Chicago.” That some of those cakes were for her nieces and nephews would be a bit of information Kit kept to herself.
Mabel shook her head. “Well, dear, I really don’t know. This all seems very…unconventional.”
“The wedding will probably rate press coverage on food blogs and the food Web sites,” Kit said briskly. “I’m sure they’d want pictures of any cake my aunt baked for herself and her groom.”
She could see the moment when Mabel finally caved, possibly the moment she pictured the wedding coverage in the Austin American-Statesman. “All right. Ten percent and she gets her own cakes. But we do the rest of the food here.”
“Of course.” Kit gave her a brilliant smile. “I wouldn’t think of using anyone else. I’ll work out the details of the menu with Joe myself.”
“Yes, why don’t you do that.” Mabel waved her toward the door. “And of course you can also tell your aunt I’ll need a ten percent deposit to hold the date.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kit trilled. “I’ll get right on it.” Right after she went back to her office and collapsed for a few minutes to catch her breath.
Nando wasn’t sure why he was heading over to Kent’s Hill Country Books again. There wasn’t any more evidence to collect. Docia had hired a professional cleaning company to come in and take care of the place. The chief himself had written up the report, listing all the damage. Nothing appeared to have been stolen beyond three ebook readers and a couple of MP3 players, although Nando guessed it would be hard to tell if any of the books were missing, given the chaos the burglar had left behind.
But something about the place kept drawing him back. Maybe it was what Kit had said. Nobody has a grudge against Docia. The thing was, while he understood what Kit was saying, he didn’t think that was true. Clearly somebody did have a grudge. A serious grudge. And he couldn’t say he liked the thought of that much.
Which led him to his next question: who was likely to have a grudge against Docia that was serious enough to lead to this kind of damage?
He knew Docia Kent the way he knew most people in Konigsburg, kind of generally. But he had no idea who did and didn’t like her. He’d never heard anybody muttering about her in the bars, which was more than he could say about a lot of the people in town.
He cut up Main toward the bookshop. It still hadn’t reopened, but the chief had said it would soon. He peered in the front window, then rapped his knuckles on the glass door.
Janie Dupree Toleffson waved at him through the window and then stepped up with her keys. “Hey Nando, how are you? Anything new about the burglar?”
Nando shook his head. He knew Janie better than Docia since the two of them had gone to school tog
ether in Konigsburg. She’d been a year or so ahead of him, but that didn’t make as much difference in a small town as it did in a city. “I wish I had something new to tell you, but I don’t. We may not have anything concrete until the forensics lab gets through with their analysis.”
He saw her quickly suppressed grin and immediately wanted to kick something, preferably Ham Linklatter. “Okay, about the sample of crap, it has DNA in it. It’s our best chance for a match with the guy who left it.”
She nodded. “I know. And thank god you were here with Ham, because he probably wouldn’t have had enough sense to know he needed to collect it. It’s still a little weird to think about, though.”
“Yeah well, it wasn’t all that much fun to do the collecting either.” Nando blew out a breath. “When are you going to reopen?”
Janie’s smile drooped slightly. “Docia says next week. Frankly, I think we could open now, but she’s not ready yet.”
“Is she still shaken up?”
She nodded again. “Yeah. Nothing like this has ever happened to her before. I think she’s sort of midway between frightened and mad, and she doesn’t know what to do exactly.”
Nando leaned a hip against the front counter. “Have either of you had any problems with customers lately? Not serious ones, necessarily, but just, you know, people complaining about stuff?”
She frowned, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sure we have. Everybody does. Ask any merchant on Main. You get people who want something you don’t have or who don’t want to spend as much as you’re asking. In here we get damages sometimes.”
“Damages?”
Janie pointed to the No food or drink in store sign at the front. “We try to enforce that, but we don’t always catch people in time. You’d be amazed at the amount of damage a six-year-old with a snow cone can do in five minutes.”
“So did anybody get stuck with a big bill lately?”
She shook her head slowly. “It’s never more than ten or twenty dollars, tops. Most of the time they mess up the kids’ books, which aren’t as expensive. Besides, most parents are embarrassed about it. They’re madder at their kids than they are at us. People just don’t seem to get that mad in a bookstore, at least not a bookstore that stocks a little of everything like this one.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Hell, Janie, there’s got to be somebody with a grudge here. Somebody who doesn’t like Docia or her books.”
“Or me,” she said quietly.
“You?”
“I’m part owner.” She shrugged. “A lot of people in town still think of it as Docia’s store because it has her name on it, but it’s partly mine too.”
“Okay.” He leaned back against the counter. “Anybody been giving you trouble lately? Any enemies in your past?”
“Lots, I guess.” She shrugged again. “Nobody goes through life without ever annoying anybody else. There’s my ex-boyfriend, for example. But given that he’s no longer in Konigsburg and hasn’t said anything to me in a couple of years, I wouldn’t treat him as a real suspect. I can’t see him coming back from Indiana or wherever it was he moved to so that he could mess up the bookstore.”
“Otto Friedrich?” Nando shook his head. “I can’t see him doing this either. What about your husband? Any recent problems at work? Anybody pissed at him?”
Janie was married to Pete Toleffson, who was Assistant County Attorney. Of all the Toleffsons, he and the chief were the ones most likely to create enemies, although the chief might edge him out in the actual total.
She shrugged. “If anything happened recently, he hasn’t mentioned it to me. And attacking the store to hurt Pete seems pretty far-fetched.”
“The whole thing seems pretty far-fetched,” he muttered.
“It does at that.” Her forehead furrowed. “Should we be frightened, Nando? Are we in any danger?”
He stared at the floor, trying to decide how to answer her. “I don’t think you’re in any immediate danger. But it would be smart not to take any unnecessary risks. Don’t work here alone at night, for example. And if you see anything or anybody suspicious—and I mean anything, no matter how small—call 911. Helen can get hold of me or the chief pretty fast.”
Janie gave him a slightly shaky grin. “Maybe Helen could just come over herself. She scares the dickens out of me, anyway.”
“Maybe she could.” He tried for reassuring, although he was afraid the grin looked a little more like a grimace. “And if you think of anybody who might be pissed at you or Docia, no matter how far out…”
“Right. I’ll call you or Erik.” She picked up her keys, walking him to the door. “Come by next week. We’re having a grand reopening sale.”
“I’ll do that.” But as he headed down the street, he wondered if the man who had devastated the shop in the first place would decide to see how well they’d managed to clean up his handiwork. Maybe he’d suggest sending Clayton Delaney over just to keep an eye on things.
As she drove home after finishing up at the Rose, Kit tried to figure out just how to connect with Allie. Their clashing hours had kept them from talking to each other for almost a week. Of course, it would help if Allie actually slept in her own house occasionally instead of at Wonder’s place, but that might be too much to ask under the circumstances.
Apparently, though, it wasn’t. At least not tonight.
Allie sat at the kitchen table when Kit walked in, a sheaf of invoices spread out on the table in front of her.
“Hi,” Kit said carefully. “Anything wrong?”
Allie shook her head. “Just getting all the stuff together so that Lars can do the quarterly taxes. How are you?”
“Fine.” She slid into the chair opposite Allie.
“How’s the Woodrose?”
Kit took a deep breath. “Actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Allie stuck her pencil behind her ear. “Problems?”
Kit shook her head. “Not a problem at all. I think we can get the Woodrose event center for the wedding. For a ten percent discount. I checked the calendar and found a cancellation that they need to fill. Only it’s a little soon.”
Allie folded her hands on the table in front of her, licking her lips. “How soon?”
“About five weeks.”
“Oh…well. That soon?” Allie swallowed hard, staring down at her hands. “That’s…five weeks.”
Kit rushed on. “Allie, it’s the perfect venue. Large enough for all your family and friends. And Joe LeBlanc is a terrific chef. Whatever he does for the reception will be absolutely wonderful. You won’t have to worry about choosing among your friends for a caterer—since it’s at the Woodrose, Joe’s the only choice. Oh, and I made sure they’ll let you do your own cake.”
Allie was still staring down at her hands, clutched tight against the table top. “My own cake.”
“I thought you’d want to.” Kit frowned. Somehow this conversation didn’t seem to be going exactly the way she’d planned. “But if you don’t want to, they’ve got a contract with a place in Austin. You could go with them.”
Allie shook her head slightly. “Bellefleur.” Her voice sounded slightly stronger. “No way I’d let them design my cake.”
“Well then.” Kit tried to keep the edge of desperation out of her voice. “You can do your own cake. And once we get the date and the venue set, the rest should fall into place pretty easily. You choose your dress, your attendants. I’ll find somebody to do the flowers and the photographs, and somebody to conduct the ceremony. We’ll need a band or a DJ for the reception, but that shouldn’t be a problem around here with all the musicians in the area.”
Allie said nothing, but her knuckles on the table had turned white.
“Aunt Allie.” Kit blew out a breath. “What’s wrong? You wanted me to do this, and now I’ve done it. Is there something wrong with the Woodrose? Something I don’t know about?”
Allie shook her head. “The Woodrose is a beautiful place
,” she murmured. “It’s perfect.”
“All right.” Kit resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “Then explain to me what the problem is. Please Allie.”
Allie looked up at her, her eyes luminous with tears.
Oh shit! Kit knelt beside her hurriedly, wrapping an arm across her shoulders. “Allie, if you don’t want to do this, now would be the right time to tell me that. It’s not a problem. Things haven’t progressed very far. We can just forget the whole thing.”
Allie shook her head vehemently. “I want to do it. I do. I love Steve.”
Kit closed her eyes for a moment, trying to reorient herself. “All right then, tell me what the problem is. You were always so good at figuring out what was wrong with me when I was a teenager, now let me help you.”
Allie rubbed her hands across her face. “It’s just that everything is going to change. I’ve been putting off all of these decisions—when the wedding will be, where we’re going to live, what kind of honeymoon I want, how many attendants. I mean, if I didn’t make the decisions, I still had options. Only now…” She sighed.
“Aunt Allie…” Kit paused, trying to figure out how to ask. “You keep saying you want to get married, but sometimes I get the feeling you’re not exactly sure that’s what you want.”
Allie stared down at her hands again, blinking. “I went to culinary school straight from high school. Did you know that?”
Kit shook her head, keeping her gaze on Allie’s clasped hands.
“I went straight into my first job after that, working my way up the culinary brigade. It took me a few years to make it to head pastry chef. More years until I had the money for Sweet Thing.” She stared out the window, her hands still clasped tight on the table.
“You’ve done really well,” Kit murmured. “I admire what you’ve done so much.”
Allie glanced back at her. “I’ve been on my own ever since I left home. And now I’m going to give it up and be part of a couple. For the rest of my life.”
“But you love Steve,” Kit said carefully.