Tea, Treats & Terror

by Carolyn L. Dean

  "Want some?" he offered. "It looks delicious. Wendell said it was his favorite."

  Amanda smiled but shook her head. "I don't think I have room, but thanks," she said, and Arlo craned his neck to look at her plates. "Nice to see a girl with a good appetite," he commented with a grin. "Healthy."

  "No, you don't understand," Amanda said as she took a last dip of whipped cream to plop on top of the fudge pie. "I'm getting one for me and one for my friend, Mrs. Granger."

  Arlo looked dubious, so Amanda gestured toward where Mrs. Granger was holding court, several people clustered around her. "That's her over there."

  "Whatever you say," Arlo said casually, obviously not believing her. "Two plates is nothing to be ashamed of, that's all I'm saying."

  As he turned to go, something caught on the corner of the table and Amanda jumped back as she could see him pitch forward, his mouth an open O of surprise, the big cardboard playing card he was wearing as a costume bending when he fell face forward, his feet tangled underneath him. People jumped backward out of his way as he smashed into the ground, his two full plates of dessert splattering everywhere in a wide circle of destruction. There was a general outcry as he hit the ground and bits of pie and cake rained onto the folks around him.

  Setting down her two plates as quick as she could, Amanda was one of the people bending down to help Arlo up, but there were already two men helping him to his feet.

  She was just going to ask if he was okay when something caught her eye and her words stopped in her throat. Arlo's costume, handmade from a cardboard box, had pulled away from the strings he'd looped around the back of his neck to hold the flat painting of a playing card. As the cardboard fell to the floor, Amanda could see printing on it.

  CLOUD-LITE MARSHMALLOWS

  Arlo's face was flushed with embarrassment and a bit of frosting as he set aside the cardboard and tried to brush the food off his sweatshirt. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Thanks for getting me off the floor, and I really want to apologize about the mess."

  Amanda's heartbeat was thrumming in her ears, even over the sounds of the dance music, now turned down a bit.

  "Where did you get the box?" Amanda asked, her voice flat and demanding.

  Arlo looked confused. "Why, at the Inn, of course. Jennifer gave it to me so I could make my costume. I bought the paint for it at the toy store downtown, here in Ravenwood."

  Amanda slowly shook her head. She could see that her question had caught the attention of several of the people clustered around them.

  "No. Jennifer wouldn't have given you that box."

  Arlo's mouth hung open. "Um, yes, she did."

  Amanda shook her head. "She knows I don't like marshmallows and we don't use them at the Inn. We try to do everything as seasonal and local as possible."

  Arlo's eyes met hers, and she could see the fear behind them.

  "I know somewhere that uses those marshmallows, though," she continued, taking a step backward. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that she'd caught George's attention and he was slowly threading his way through the crowd.

  "I...uh..." Arlo said, backing up a bit, but Amanda wasn’t letting him go that easily. She raised her voice so more people could hear.

  "Whoever broke into the back of the tea shop took a half-full box of marshmallows out. We all know that Ruben's epi-pen had been tampered with. Someone replaced the antihistamine in it with plain water, so when he'd have a severe allergy attack the pen wouldn't help him."

  Arlo's eyes were huge and he glanced around him, as if looking for a way to flee.

  "Arlo always kept that pen in his bag, and that bag would've been in the back of the shop when you broke in. You knew him from before, didn't you Arlo?" When the frantic man didn't answer, she relentlessly continued. "Columbia mentioned that he'd fled Portland when several businesses failed, leaving behind a stack of debts and several partners. What business were you in together, Arlo?"

  Amanda turned toward George, her face pale. "I don't know how he got the peanut...whatever…onto Ruben, but I know he was hanging out the runners’ placards at the Mutt Marathon, and I'd bet money that he's the one that killed Ruben."

  With a sudden, high wail, Arlo threw his arms up and elbowed his way through the crowd as hard as he could, heading for the door with desperate force. George, with his years of police experience and training, instantly saw what was going on. He dashed after him, partygoers leaping out of his way as he bolted through the door. It didn’t take him too long to catch up to the lumbering Arlo, already wheezing and panting from the exertion of trying to escape.

  Everyone from the party spilled out onto the street, excitedly watching as George slapped a pair of silver handcuffs on Arlo’s chubby wrists.

  There was some debate later about who actually started the applause, but Amanda knew the truth. She’d seen the Mad Hatter, grinning like a maniac, start banging his hands together in tribute, and the entire rest of the Wonderland party followed suit.

  Chapter 16

  Amanda was used to coming downstairs early, especially on mornings when Jennifer had the day off. There were a lot of chores that had to be done before the guests were up and wanting a hot breakfast and fresh coffee. What she wasn't used to was someone else getting up before she did.

  Wendell was sitting in the foyer, on the bench by the front door. A plastic grocery bag was at his feet, and Amanda was pretty sure it included everything he'd brought with him, or that he'd bought while in town.

  "Well, good morning, early bird!" she said cheerfully, even though she didn't feel completely awake herself. It was still dark outside, and she could hear the familiar dripping of Oregon spring rain. "Can I get you some coffee?"

  "No, thanks," he said, following her toward the kitchen. "I think I've reached my target heart rate for the day already."

  Amanda had never seen her guest exercise, so she wasn't sure what he meant by his odd statement. Deciding to ignore it, she pressed the button to start the coffeepot. "I hope you don't mind if I have some. This rainy weather makes me want to just stay in a warm bed and hibernate, so I need all the help I can get."

  Wendell sat on a nearby tall stool and rested his elbows on the marble slab of the kitchen island. "I think I'll be leaving today, so I just wanted to let you know and make sure my bill is all square."

  Digging around in the fridge, Amanda pulled out a bowl of cut fruit and smiled at her guest. "Your bill's paid in full, Mr. Smith, but I'm sorry to hear you'll be leaving today. Do you mind me asking where you're heading?"

  There was a long pause as Wendell looked at his rough hands, worn with work and time, and cleared his throat.

  "I'm not exactly sure yet."

  This was a first. Amanda had had a wide variety of guests at the Inn since she'd opened it, but every one of them had always known what their next destination was. Usually, it was a return to their home, and sometimes they'd tell her about the next leg on their vacation or which relative they'd be visiting.

  No one had ever said they were leaving with no destination, and she wasn't quite sure what to say. Even with his rough appearance, Wendell hadn't been any trouble, and she a bit worried about his statement.

  She set the bowl of fruit down in front of him, along with a stack of small glass bowls and several forks.

  "Well, I hope that your journey is pleasant, no matter where you're heading," she said with a warm smile. "You're always welcome to come back here."

  Wendell looked up at her, and there was a depth of pain in his eyes that Amanda had never seen in anyone before.

  "I'm not so sure about that," he said with a sigh. "I've done a terrible thing."

  Instantly, Amanda's mental red flags went up, warning her to be cautious.

  "Can I ask what sort of terrible thing?" she said, acting nonchalant while she opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a stack of napkins.

  "You're kind of in the middle of it," he answered, his voice low and slow.

  "I am?" Amanda began to think
about the other people in the Inn, wondering if they'd hear her if she screamed for help. She walked over to the coffee cup to get some distance from Wendell and watched him until he finally spoke again.

  “Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he said slowly, his eyes downcast. There was a slight tremor in his voice.

  “But I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”

  Amanda leaned forward, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  There was a pause while the older man seemed to try to pull his thoughts, or his courage, together.

  “I’m your father.”

  For an instant, there was a brief, timeless break in reality while Amanda’s world crystallized in a sharp pinpoint of white-hot denial, followed by a jolt of painful realization.

  "No. No, you're not."

  It wasn't just a statement. It was a rejection.

  Wendell gave out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.

  "Yes, actually I am. I know you don't think I deserve that title but I am."

  Amanda felt the fury rising inside her, like a long-forgotten ember that just needed to be brought forward to burst into flame.

  "I don't believe you."

  He waited, just looking at her until she spoke again.

  "Prove it."

  Slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bent photograph, the edges worn and dirty.

  "This is your mother here, and you're the one on the mechanical pony. My boss took this picture outside the grocery store when he saw were all together, and he gave it to me later." He held out the photo, waiting, until Amanda finally leapt forward and snatched it from his hand.

  She scanned it quickly, then pulled it closer and examined every detail.

  She remembered that dress, the green one with rosebuds embroidered across the hem. Her mother had told her it had been her favorite until she'd finally outgrown it, and she had pitched a true tantrum the day her mother had finally removed it from her closet, saying it was too small. For years, her mother had kept it carefully preserved between layers of tissue paper, one of the first things they packed in boxes every time they moved.

  "Anyone could have a photo." Her mind was flipping through possibilities. What if he had read the articles about the Inn and wanted a handout? What if he was a fraudster who was looking for an angle to bilk her out of something?

  What if he was someone James had put in jail? That last thought went through her like a sudden chill. If that was the case, then this man could be dangerous.

  "So, since you're telling me your father, I think I get to ask you some questions. That okay with you, Wendell?" There was an edge of anger and contempt in her voice that he hadn't heard before.

  "Why did you leave us? How could you do that? I was only two!"

  Looking at Wendell's face, she could see the years of disappointment and pain in every line.

  "I did it for your protection."

  She burst out laughing, the sound cold and hollow in the large kitchen. "Our protection? Are you nuts? Do you know how many crappy jobs my mother had to take to try to keep us in a decent apartment? How many times I had to sit alone when it was 'bring you Dad to school day? Do you have any idea how it affected my life not to have any example of what a normal, loving couple looks like?"

  He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

  "That's not good enough." The words were flat and hard.

  "Amanda, I can only tell you the truth," he said, his open hands laying palm-up on the marble, as if pleading with her. "I was a mess. I was drinking and running around, and when I'd drink I’d get mean." He gulped. "Real mean."

  Amanda stood stock-still, listening.

  Wendell ran a hand through his thinning hair. "After all the times I said I'd never be like my dad, it turned out...I was. I grew up with a father who was always out late drinking, and when he'd come home it would be hell for the rest of the family. I barely made it through high school and when I joined the navy I got to see not everyone had a family like mine." He straightened up a bit in his chair. "I wanted something better for my future, and when I met your Mom I thought that I'd be able to put the past behind me."

  "And then I came along."

  Wendell nodded. "And then you came along, and I loved you the moment I got to hold you in the hospital. No one could ever explain how much I'd love my own kid. I would've killed grizzly bears for you."

  To her disgust, Amanda could feel herself getting more emotional, the unshed tears threatening to spill over. "So, what happened, huh? How could you love us and then just walk out of lives like that? I never heard a word from you."

  Hearing people in the kitchen, Oscar padded in from the parlor and began to rub against Amanda's legs, hoping for an early breakfast.

  Wendell closed his eyes, as if he was seeing the events of the past play out like an old home movie. "It turns out I told some stories about the stuff I'd done in the Navy that weren't exactly true. No, that's not right. They weren't true at all. Some guy started investigating it and when they confronted me about all those medals I said I'd claimed I tried to lie my way out of it."

  Amanda was horrified. She'd heard about people claiming awards and ranks they didn't deserve.

  "You mean.." she tried to remember the term,"--stolen valor?"

  Wendell nodded, his face a mask of shame.

  "Yes. I shamed myself and every person who actually deserved the respect I tried to steal. I started drinking real heavy and finally lost my job. When your mother tried to keep us afloat I felt it made me less of a man." His shoulders were bowed in defeat. "And that made me really mean." He took a deep breath. "And being mean made me dangerous."

  It was as if a lifetime of questions were slowly, painfully being answered. Reaching down, Amanda absent-mindedly petted Oscar, who was still insisting on his bowl being filled.

  "What happened after you left?"

  Wendell shrugged and looked away. "A lot of things. Some good, some bad. Your mother was right not to want me to be around you. I was a mess, still drinking everything I could get my hands on. I finally went to jail, and I didn't get out for years. To be honest, I think jail saved my life. I couldn't drink anymore. It was the first time I'd had a clear head in years, and I got to talk to some really good counselors."

  Amanda walked to the cabinet and pulled out a can of cat food, cracked it open, and used a spoon to dump the contents into Oscar's dish.

  "How did you find me?"

  As soon as she said it, she could tell he'd been waiting for that question. "When I got to a place with internet I started searching for you. I knew your mom had changed her last name, so I kept searching. Then the Oregonian ran that article about Ravenwood Cove and the shells and stuff kids were digging out of the sand, and they had a picture of you on the front porch of the inn." For the first time, Wendell smiled, his eyes warm with remembering. "You looked just like your mama."

  "So, you heard I was doing well and thought you'd just come on by, huh?" Amanda had been raised to be polite but in this case, the gloves came off. "Thought I had a big play with lots of open rooms you could stay in? What that it?

  Her father adamantly shook his head. "That wasn't it at all. I just wanted to see you. I've paid my way, every step of the way since I’ve been here, haven't I?" His eyes met hers, asking, and she had to admit the truth.

  "Yes, you have."

  "I just wanted to tell you the truth, so you'd know that even though I walked out on you both I've thought about you and your mother every single day I was gone." He gulped. "No matter what I was doing, this picture went with me everywhere. Happiest day I had in many years was when I left prison and got my things back from storage, because this photo was in that bag."

  It was almost more than she could absorb at one time, and it looked like Wendell saw that on her face. He slowly stood up from his seat and smiled, his eyes still sad. "Well, I’ve had my say and I appreciate you telling my side of things, even t
hough they're full of terrible mistakes I made. Thanks for the offer of breakfast, but I had to get going."

  Amanda hesitated, the softer side of her heart yelling at her but the anger she was feeling overriding it.

  Wendell walked to the door and picked up his plastic bag of belongings, then pulled the door open.

  "I hope you have a wonderful life, Amanda. Nobody deserves it more than you," he said, then walked out and softly shut the door behind him.

  It was as if someone had knocked all the wind out of Amanda, as though she couldn't breathe anymore. After a few seconds of standing there, she ran to the sink and looked out the big window. She could see her father, hood pulled up against the rain, walking down the circular driveway, and trudging steadily toward town.

  Walking away.

  And out of her life again.

  Chapter 17

  James was due back in just a few hours, and she couldn't wait to see him. He'd been at the airport when she called him earlier and had been none too happy when he heard her news about Wendell. It didn't help that he admitted he'd noticed Wendell's tattoos when he'd first arrived and had quietly done some digging into his background. When he discovered that Wendell had been in jail for three years for mail fraud he called his parole officer to learn more, all without telling Amanda. After two years of spotless parole supervision, Wendell had finally been able to travel as a free man.

  "And you didn’t tell me?" Amanda said. "You didn't think that I'd want to know he was my father?" Her voice was almost shrill on the phone, but she didn't care.

  "I didn't know he was your father," James had calmly assured her, then went on to explain that Wendell had been jailed for selling bogus vitamins through the mail and he'd been a model prison. There was no record of any type of violence in his past or nefarious connections, and once he was out of jail he'd gotten a job at a local chicken ranch and had lived very quietly in a bunkhouse on the property.