by Sarah Fox
The final applicant was due to arrive in approximately fifteen minutes, so instead of worrying about how disastrous the next interview might be I busied myself with sorting through a few more papers on the office floor. I’d managed to get only a small pile of documents tucked away in the filing cabinet before another knock sounded on the front door.
This time I opened it to a young man with a skateboard in hand. His dark hair was styled in a short Mohawk with a zigzag design shaved into the sides.
“Thomas Park?” I asked.
He grinned and held out his hand. “Everybody calls me Tommy.”
I shook his hand and invited him into the pancake house, grateful for the fact that he didn’t smell of cigarette smoke, or anything else for that matter. As I shut the door behind him, he gazed around the dining area, still grinning.
“Man, this place is great. And I hear your chef is awesome.”
“His cooking’s definitely popular,” I said, wondering what Tommy would think once he’d met Ivan.
We made our way back to the break room, where I invited Tommy to get settled in one of the chairs. Before I had a chance to go fetch Ivan, he appeared on his own, taking up a similar stance to the one he had during the previous two interviews. That didn’t seem to faze Tommy in the least.
“Hey, man,” he greeted Ivan. “Sick tattoos.”
I held my breath, hoping Ivan realized that was a compliment. To my relief, he seemed to know that was the case and acknowledged the comment with a nod.
Wasting no time, I delved into Tommy’s employment history and experience working in kitchens. Some of the information I already knew from his application, but—in stark contrast to Pete—he wasn’t at all hesitant about chatting and he generously filled in the blanks. While he was growing up, his parents had owned a Korean restaurant in Seattle where he’d helped out after school each day. He’d recently moved to Wildwood Cove because of the “chill atmosphere,” as he put it. He was into photography, but was just starting out professionally and needed income from another source to keep him afloat.
The whole time Tommy talked, Ivan never said a word, and every minute that passed left me more worried, although I didn’t let it show. I liked Tommy. He was personable and had the type of experience we were looking for, but I doubted Ivan would give the twenty-one-year-old his stamp of approval. The chef was a man of few words and although his expression was giving nothing away, I doubted he’d be thrilled to have a chatterbox like Tommy in his kitchen with him every day.
Once the interview had come to its end, I showed Tommy out of the pancake house with a smile but a sense of heavy disappointment. I knew we’d be losing out on a great employee if Ivan didn’t approve of Tommy, and I didn’t know who else I was supposed to hire in his place.
Brushing my curls away from my face, I locked the door and turned to face Ivan, my shoulders sagging, ready for him to express his disapproval.
“He’s the one,” the chef said.
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“You don’t think so?”
“No. I mean, yes. I think he’s great.”
“That’s settled, then.”
Ivan disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me standing there, stunned. He really didn’t mind Tommy’s chatter?
I shook my head, still surprised, but pleased and relieved. With that decision made, at least one task was off my plate. I’d call Tommy later that day to give him the good news, but at the moment I had another job to tackle.
Once I’d collected my belongings and said goodbye to Ivan, I hurried along the beach to Jimmy’s house and hopped in my car. From there, I drove to the edge of town where the funeral home was located. After pulling into a spot in the nearly empty parking lot, I sat in my car and took some deep breaths, trying to fight off the anxiety that threatened to take hold.
Funeral homes stirred up terrible memories for me. Losing three people I loved dearly in the space of a few days had been soul shattering. Helping my mom deal with all the arrangements afterward had taken far more than I’d thought I had in me. Years later, I didn’t know how we’d managed to get through those dark days. We had, though. Somehow.
I didn’t want to dredge up my painful past, and I needed to go inside to take care of things for Jimmy. But when I rested my hand on the golden handle of the front door, my anxiety once again threatened to take over.
I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. I could do this. I had to do this.
Drawing on all the inner strength I could find, I turned the handle and opened the door.
Chapter 15
Getting through the appointment at the funeral home was easier than I had anticipated, probably because of the kind professionalism of the staff. While some of the arrangements couldn’t be finalized until Jimmy’s body was released, we still managed to take care of a number of important matters. Cousin Jimmy’s obituary would be published in several newspapers in the state over the coming days and a celebration of his life would be held at The Flip Side on Tuesday afternoon. I could have arranged to have the gathering at the funeral home, but I knew Jimmy would have approved of my choice, and it seemed only right to celebrate his life at the place where he’d invested so much of his heart and soul over the years.
On my way across the parking lot, I sent a text message to my mom, letting her know the date and time of the memorial. She responded as I unlocked my car, assuring me that she’d be in Wildwood Cove by late Tuesday morning.
With that all taken care of, I climbed into my car and drove away from the funeral home. As I passed through town on my way back to what I still thought of as Jimmy’s house, a weight seemed to ease off my shoulders. I felt as though I’d jumped over a large hurdle. There would still be some difficult tasks to take care of, like sorting through all of Jimmy’s belongings, finding his killer, and proving Leigh’s innocence, but a major job had been ticked off the daunting to-do list.
In fact, I felt almost cheery as I followed Wildwood Road along the coast. My mood improved further when I spotted two deer in a clearing to the side of the road. With no cars behind me, I was able to slow down and get a good look at the beautiful creatures. They stared my way warily for a moment or two and then bounded gracefully off into the bushes.
I continued on along the road, a smile on my face, but when I turned into the driveway and spotted a banana-yellow sports car parked next to the blue-and-white Victorian, my smile slipped away.
What now? I wondered, tension creeping back into my muscles.
As I shut off my car’s engine and climbed out of the vehicle, Chantel Lefevre came bustling around from the back of the house, a little unsteady on the uneven ground in her black pumps. Instead of the pale pink skirt and blazer I’d last seen her in, today she wore a gray pantsuit with a cream blouse and a string of pearls.
“Ms. McKinney, I presume?” she called out as she approached.
I pushed my car door shut. “Yes.”
She extended her hand and I shook it with a quiet sigh of resignation. I could guess the reason for her presence, but I figured I was unlikely to get rid of her until after I’d heard her out.
“Chantel Lefevre.” She whipped out a business card and handed it to me.
Like Gerald Teeves’s business card, it was printed on expensive paper. Aside from that observation, I didn’t take much notice of it, letting my hand fall to my side.
“I understand you’ve inherited this property from Jimmy Coulson,” she said.
“That’s right.” I wondered how she knew that. The small-town grapevine at work again?
“As you might know, I’m Wildwood Cove’s top real estate agent. I can help you get a good price for this place. And quickly, so you don’t have to be burdened by it for long.”
“I don’t view it as a burden,” I said, a hint of steel in my voice. “More as a generous gift.”
Chantel flashed me a brief, impatient smile. “Of course, but a young thing like you doesn’t want to waste away
in a dead-end town.”
Waste away? Dead-end town?
She gestured out toward Puget Sound. “There are so many other great opportunities out there waiting for you.”
I assumed she meant in Seattle, not out in the water. Either way, I was less than impressed by the woman.
“I’m not sure if I’m going to sell the house.” I felt like I was repeating myself. Probably because I was. I’d already gone through all this with Teeves.
“I understand,” Chantel said with insincere sympathy. “You’re still in mourning, and of course you don’t have to make any decisions right at this moment. I’m sure it will take a bit of time for the estate to be settled. But once that’s all taken care of, you’ll want to move quickly. Trust me.”
I trusted her about as much as I trusted Gerald Teeves.
It was probably best that she didn’t pause to give me a chance to say anything. Any words that I might have managed right at that moment wouldn’t have been all that polite.
“You’ve got my number,” she said, bustling over to her sports car. “You give me a call as soon as you’re ready to talk things over.”
“Actually,” I said as she opened her car door, “I won’t be calling.”
“But, my dear, I’m the top real estate agent in town. You’ll really be in the best hands with me.”
“I won’t be needing a real estate agent.”
“Oh, heavens! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of handling the sale yourself. I know you think it might save you some money, but it’s really not worth it. I’ll look after you and make sure you get a good price, and you won’t have to deal with any headaches at all.” She moved to get into her car, as if the matter were settled.
“You misunderstand me.”
She stopped. “Do I?”
“Yes.” A sense of certainty settled over me and I knew my next words were the right ones. “I won’t be selling the house. I’m keeping it.”
An expression of shock flickered across Chantel’s face before she rearranged her features. “Now, let’s not be hasty. A moment ago you hadn’t made up your mind.”
“But now I have.” I handed her card back to her. “I won’t keep you any longer. Have a nice day.”
I turned away and headed for the Victorian.
Shocked silence seemed to reverberate behind me for a second or two. Then Chantel’s car door slammed and the engine roared to life. As I climbed the steps to the front porch, the yellow sports car roared off along the driveway, raising a cloud of dust behind it. I smiled, not only because Chantel was now out of my hair, but because the decision to keep the house, as sudden as it might have been, raised my spirits. The same was true of the other decision I’d reached—I would keep The Flip Side open.
Even if I had to rent out the house and hire a manager to operate the business, the properties would still be mine. I’d still have my own piece of Wildwood Beach. I’d still have the option of returning in the future. This place was too important to me to let go. I could see that clearly now. Most likely Jimmy had known too.
My chest ached with grief for a moment and my eyes watered, but the happiness and the sense of peace my decisions had brought me overpowered my pain and the threat of tears subsided. With my eyes clear, I stepped into the foyer and shut the door, smiling as a sense of comfort and belonging enveloped me.
—
I phoned Tommy to offer him the job and he accepted with enthusiasm that made me smile again. He agreed to meet Ivan at the pancake house early Wednesday morning, and I ended the call feeling even better than I had moments earlier. I made myself a cup of tea and settled into a chair on the back porch, determined to relax for a few minutes at least. As I sipped my tea, Flapjack jumped into my lap and curled up, purring as I stroked his sleek orange fur. Although the ocean breeze had a chilly undertone, I found it refreshing as it brought the salty smell of the sea to me.
A short time later, I nudged Flapjack awake and set him down on the porch before standing up to stretch. As I reached my arms over my head, I caught sight of two figures making their way up the beach toward the house. Sienna Murray and her boyfriend, Logan, I realized as they came closer.
Leaving my empty teacup on the arm of my chair, I descended the porch steps to meet them, careful to avoid the dried blood splatters as I did so. Now that I knew Jimmy had likely been stabbed in that spot, I couldn’t tramp over it as nonchalantly as I had before.
“Hi,” I greeted as the teenagers reached Jimmy’s property.
“Hi,” Sienna returned with a cheery smile.
Logan offered a slight nod of his head.
“My mom asked us to bring these over to you,” Sienna said, holding out a small basket covered with a tea towel. “Cinnamon rolls, baked fresh earlier today.”
I accepted the offering and took a quick peek under the towel. A delicious cinnamon smell met my nose as I took in the sight of the four sticky, golden buns nestled in the basket.
“They smell fantastic. Thank you.” I took a step back toward the house. “I can transfer them into something so you can take the basket back.”
“That’s okay,” Sienna said. “You can keep it for now.”
“All right. I’ll be sure to stop by to return it and thank your mom in person before I head back to Seattle.”
Sienna chewed on her lower lip, avoiding the silver ring pierced through it. “So you’re not going to stay and run The Flip Side?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said. “I want to keep the business going but I’ve got a job back in Seattle, so I might hire a manager to run the place.”
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed.
“Why do you ask?”
“I thought you might need some extra help during the tourist season,” she said. “I’d like to get a part-time job this summer.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said, “if I do hire a manager, I’ll mention your name to them.”
A smile lit up her face. “Cool. Thanks.”
We both turned toward Logan, who hadn’t said a word. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring at the steps leading to the back porch. He looked a bit pale and sick to me and I wondered if he was under the weather.
Sienna brushed something off the back of his white T-shirt, rolling her eyes as she did so. “More glitter,” she said to him. She directed her next words at me. “We spilled glitter all over the place when we were making a poster for a school bake sale last week. Ever since, we’ve been finding it everywhere.”
My throat went dry.
“Come on, Logan. Let’s head back,” Sienna said. “ ’Bye, Marley.” She waved at me and led her boyfriend back toward the beach.
Only as they walked away did I realize what Logan had been staring at—the splatters of Jimmy’s blood.
Chapter 16
My thoughts whirled around and around at such a high speed that I almost felt dizzy. The glitter, Logan’s reaction to the blood—what did it all mean?
I had a hard time picturing the quiet teenager killing anyone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. Still, I was certain that I was missing something. Something important. Pacing around the main floor of the house, I tried to make sense of everything, but without any luck. Even when I attempted to look at things the way my favorite fictional sleuths would, nothing became any clearer. Maybe my little gray cells just weren’t up to the task of solving the mystery. That was a depressing thought.
Flapjack followed me around the house at first, but soon gave up and wandered off, leaving me to pace on my own. I was no closer to figuring things out when the doorbell rang a few minutes later.
When I opened the front door, I found Chloe standing on the front porch.
“Are you busy?” she asked once we’d exchanged greetings.
“No. You want to come in?” I stepped back to open the door wider, but she shook her head.
“Actually, I came by to see if you wanted to grab some dinner with me. Or have you already eaten?”
My stomach gave a growl, dissatisfied that all I’d consumed in the last few hours was a cup of tea. “I haven’t eaten and now that you mention it, I could use some food.”
Chloe’s face lit up. “Great.”
“I just need a minute to feed Flapjack before we go.”
Chloe followed me down the hall toward the kitchen. Flapjack peered at us from around the couch, wary of the newcomer, but his cautious attitude only lasted until Chloe crouched down and called to him. Seconds later the orange tabby was purring appreciatively as his new friend stroked his fur and told him how cute he was. Flapjack enjoyed the attention, right up until I set his dish of dinner down on the kitchen floor. Then he trotted over to it and busied himself with eating, his tail swishing with contentment.
“He’s so sweet,” Chloe said as she watched Flapjack eat. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“I’d like to keep him,” I replied. “But if I can’t, I’m hoping my mom will.”
“That’s good.” Chloe’s gaze went to the large family room window. “This house sure has a nice view.”
“Can’t beat it,” I agreed.
I took in the sight of the ocean—a view I could never tire of—and then I grabbed my tote bag and we headed for the front foyer. As we left the house, I locked up with a shiny new key the locksmith had given to me earlier that day.
“Have you been to the Windward Pub before?” Chloe asked as we climbed into her red Toyota.
“No.”
“Do you want to try it? The food’s pretty good.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
I knew within minutes of hitting the road that spending time with Chloe was exactly what I needed. As she drove us to the pub, she told me more about her job as an elementary school teacher and entertained me with stories about her second-grade students. She even got a couple of laughs out of me.
It didn’t take long to reach the Windward Pub, located at the end of a row of buildings facing the Wildwood River. The building had a weathered appearance and was painted a shade of green so dark it almost looked black. Across the street that ran along the side of the pub was an ice-cream parlor nestled between a dollar store and a fish-and-chips shop.