by Jessica Beck
“It sounds a bit invasive, doesn’t it?” Jennifer asked me with a slight grimace. “What if those addresses were meant to be private?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” I explained. “This particular list is made up entirely of writers who are open to hearing from their readers. It was a special printing, and I happened to be lucky enough to find one.”
“It’s magic, magic I tell you,” Elizabeth said, still holding onto it as though it were her only tie to land in a stormy sea. “I feel bad about what I got Hazel now.”
“What is it?” Hazel asked, reaching for the small box with a ribbon on top. When she opened it up, her face lit up. “I don’t believe it. It’s an Emperor Brownie,” she said in a hushed tone.
“What exactly is that?” I asked her.
“They only make them twice a year, and you have to get on the waiting list at least twelve months in advance to have any hope of getting one.”
“That’s about how long it took, too,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “When we drew names last year and I got yours, I put my name in the hat immediately, and sure enough, we got lucky this year.”
“You are amazing,” Hazel said, carefully closing the box again, “though you did go over the limit.”
“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth replied, with no remorse at all.
“Don’t we all get a taste of it?” Jennifer asked as she studied the box in Hazel’s hands.
“Yes. Of course,” she said. The reluctance was heavy in her voice, but it was clear that she was still willing to share.
“Why does no one get it when I’m joking?” Jennifer asked us, clearly frustrated by our failure to get her humor. “I was just teasing.”
“I really don’t mind sharing,” Hazel insisted.
“Nonsense,” Jennifer said as she tried to hand something to me, but I shook my head.
“There is no way I can accept anything else from you.”
“That was from all of us. This is from just me,” she said.
I looked at the present in her hand reluctantly, but I didn’t want to insult her by refusing her gift. I unwrapped the small box and found a heart-shaped pendant inside, decorated with hand-painted icing and sprinkles. “I know it’s silly,” Jennifer said, “but it’s a donut heart. I found it at a quaint little shop in Charlotte, and I knew I had to get it for you.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said as I put it on. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
We finished exchanging gifts, and then it was time to get down to business. After I got everyone coffee and donuts, we settled down on my new furniture and started our discussion.
“This book was a tough one for me,” Hazel said. “I wanted to like it, but I kept thinking that I’d read it somewhere before.”
“That’s my fault,” Jennifer answered contritely. “I chose the book thinking that it sounded interesting, but it wasn’t until long after I read it that I realized how similarly it mirrored the first Country Cooks mystery.”
“That’s it!” Elizabeth said. “I knew it felt familiar to me, but I’d just assumed that I’d already read it and forgotten it. Why, the author didn’t even bother changing the original name of the protagonist all that much! She went from Ellie to Ellen, and even her best friend’s name was close to being the same. Not only that, but the subplot of the original book was eerily similar as well.”
“I read once that you can’t copyright a title, a subject, or even a storyline,” I said, “but I still felt a little cheated by the echoed plot.”
“I completely agree,” Hazel said.
“At least we still have the original,” I said. “I have an idea. Why don’t we read Cooking Up Trouble next month? This imitation made me crave the original. What do you say to that?”
“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Jennifer said. “I’m afraid we’re out of time anyway. The furniture and the Secret Santas took up more time than I thought they would. I wish for each and every one of you a very Merry Christmas.”
We hugged each other in turn, and I asked Jennifer to stay behind as the other women left. “I don’t know how to thank you. Please tell your husband that as long as I’m open, he can have as many donuts on the house as he’d like for the rest of his life.”
“I would, but I’d be afraid he’d take you up on your offer, and he’s fighting a losing battle with his waistline as it is,” she said with a smile. “Honestly, this wasn’t that big a deal, Suzanne.”
“For me, it was epic. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. Now I’d better catch up with the others. Hazel is my ride, and I’d hate for her to leave me behind again.”
Once they were gone, I marveled at how my shop had changed so completely for the better because of the generosity and friendship of the people in my life. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I had friends that were worth more than gold to me, and as far as I was concerned, that made me richer than anyone else I’d ever known.
Chapter 16
“Lori, what are you doing here?” I asked Greg Whitmore’s widow a few minutes before we were set to close for the day.
“I thought a donut might be nice,” she said as she looked over my meager supply of treats left. “Do you have any pumpkin ones?”
“Sorry. How about an apple cider donut? They’re quite nice.”
“I suppose it will do. How about cocoa?”
“No, it’s gone as well. I have coffee, though.”
She looked displeased that I was continuing to thwart her wishes, but hey, she couldn’t expect me to have a full selection that late in my morning. “Whatever.”
I set her up, and she glanced at my new furniture. “I heard a rumor that your furniture was all ruined.”
“The old things were,” I said. “My friends brought me all of this a little bit earlier.”
“You must have some very nice friends,” she said as she admired the new pieces.
“I do,” I replied. Since there was no one else in the donut shop, I decided to push my luck a little with her. “Was there any other reason you came by besides a treat?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure,” she said in stilted succession.
“Well, I’m sure that one of those is the right answer,” I answered with a grin. “I’m just not sure which one.”
“There’s something I need to tell you. Two things, actually.”
I put the dishcloth in my hand down and gave her my full attention. “Go on. I’m listening.”
After taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m sorry I lied to you yesterday.”
“You lied?” I asked, trying not to give away that I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“I knew my husband had a girlfriend. Her name is Gwen West. Suzanne, I was humiliated. She’s at least twenty-five years younger than I am. He made me look like a fool dating a child like that.”
“Nobody would ever think less of you because of that,” I said, and I meant it. It had happened to a few friends of mine in the past, being thrown away like litter for newer, younger versions of themselves. “If anyone were judged harshly by the situation, it would have been Greg.”
“It wasn’t entirely his fault. He didn’t quite know what he was getting himself into when she set her sights on him,” she said, apologizing for the man even after he was gone. “Gwen knew exactly the right buttons to push, and he never had a chance.”
“Lori, did she break up your marriage, or did they start dating after it was over between the two of you?” I asked. The timing of it all could have played a role in Greg’s murder, and even though I wasn’t a fan of everything the man had done in his life, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t keep trying to find out who had killed him.
“I don’t know,” she said with a soft wail in her voice. I saw the kitchen door open slowly, and Emma slo
wly peeked out. It didn’t take her long to retreat into the kitchen, and I didn’t blame her. This situation was on its way downhill, and fast.
I remembered what Gwen had told me that morning about Greg’s business practices. This was a good time to distract her with a different line of questioning. “Lori, would Greg have ever written any bad loans, say something that was on the edge of being illegal, by any chance?”
“No! Never!”
“You seem sure of yourself,” I said. “How can you be so positive?”
“It wasn’t that Greg was particularly high minded or anything,” she said with a frown as she explained. “But we talked about it on more than one occasion. My late husband was deathly afraid of being locked up. Terrified, actually. There is no way he’d risk going to jail under any circumstances, so whoever told you he did anything the least bit shady was lying to you.”
It was interesting how the two women in Greg’s life had such diverse opinions of the man and what he was capable of. I wondered which one of them had known the real Greg Whitmore. “You said there were two things you wanted to talk about,” I reminded her, hoping to head off a crying jag, no matter how deserved it might be.
“I did, but I can’t quite bring myself to share that with you just yet.”
“Come on. You know that you’ll feel better once you get it off your chest.” Was I about to hear the woman’s confession? I didn’t think murder was a justifiable act in general, but if she’d killed her husband because of his disloyalty, I could at least grasp it in principle, whether I condoned it or not.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. After taking a few deep breaths, she was clearly about to say something when her cell phone rang.
“Let it go to voicemail,” I urged her. I couldn’t afford to have her distracted at the moment.
She looked at her caller ID and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take this. Hello? No. No! Forget it! It’s never going to happen!”
After she hung up, I asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Not by a long shot. I’ve got to take care of this right now. I’ve had all that I’m going to take.”
“Who just called you, Lori?” I asked her.
The widow just shook her head and walked out, leaving most of her coffee and donut behind. I thought about running after her, or following her at the very least, but as I stood there trying to decide what to do, I realized that she’d talk when she was ready, and not a moment before.
“What was that all about?” Emma asked as she came back out front.
“You don’t want to know,” I said. “You know what? It’s close enough to closing time not to matter. How are things in back?”
“I’ve got it all wrapped up,” she said as she collected Lori’s cup and plate. As Emma studied the display case, she said, “We’ve got seven donuts left. Do you have any plans for them?”
“No, they are yours if you want them,” I said.
“I think I’ll take them to Dad, if you don’t mind. He had to go back to the presses for another printing of today’s paper. It’s been a huge event for him, and I want to help him celebrate.”
“That’s fine by me,” I said as I locked the front door and started working on the day’s report.
I was twenty dollars off, which was bad enough, but what made it worse was that I had more than I should have. How had I shortchanged my customers enough to collect that much more than I was supposed to?
I was still trying to figure it out when Emma walked out. “I’m finished in back.” She frowned when she saw that I had the money laid out on the counter in stacks, after counting it three times and getting the same total. “Suzanne, you’re going to kill me.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked, distracted by my mistake.
“During your book club meeting, I found a twenty-dollar bill on the floor. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I stuck it in the cash drawer without giving it another thought. I’m betting you are exactly twenty dollars off, right?”
“Right,” I said, pulling one of the twenties from the stack and setting it aside. “That’s good to know.”
“It would have been even better earlier, right?”
“It’s no problem, Emma,” I said, relieved that I hadn’t cheated anyone. If someone came in over the next few days and asked about their lost twenty, I’d be ready, and if they didn’t, I’d put it in the tip jar and try to forget about it. “I’m ready if you are.”
“Let’s go, then,” she said, grabbing the partial box of donuts and heading for the door.
I was surprised to find that Grace was outside waiting for me. “You could have always come inside and waited,” I told her as Emma said her good-byes to both of us.
“I could have, but then you might have put me to work,” she answered with a grin. “I’ve waded through enough paperwork to take some time off this afternoon. What’s the plan?”
“I thought we might grab a bite to eat and then head back to Union Square. Should we eat at the Boxcar Grill or hit Napoli’s again?”
Grace frowned. “That’s a real dilemma. I want to be able to fit into my clothes, so maybe we should skip the Italian place. Then again, it’s so delicious, I think I can be persuaded to forget about my waistline and eat there again if you try the least little bit.”
I had to laugh. I could smell a donut and gain two pounds, while Grace had always had a metabolism that seemed to convert calories consumed into smiles.
Sometimes it drove me crazy, and I was glad I loved her so much, or I might have killed her.
“Let’s throw caution to the wind,” I said. “I’ll brave a repeat visit to Napoli’s if you will.”
“What are we waiting for, then?” she asked. “There’s no ice on the roads, and I need to drop something off in Union Square anyway, so let’s take my company car.”
“Are you sure?” I knew that Grace’s employer wasn’t thrilled when their people used company cars for personal transportation.
“Positive,” she said. “Besides, you deserve to ride in style every now and then.”
“I’m not about to argue with you,” I said, happily sliding onto the passenger seat of her stylish vehicle.
As she drove to Union Square, I said, “I had a few unusual visitors at the donut shop today.”
“Did Elvis and Nixon show up together?” she asked with a grin.
“No, but it wouldn’t have surprised me much more than who did come by. Gwen was standing outside waiting for me when I opened.” I told her what Greg’s girlfriend had shared with me.
“So, she’s really gone?” Grace asked me.
“I’m not sure. I called the chief as soon as I could, and I have a hunch he was going to track her down.”
“You said that you had a few visitors. Who else came by?”
“Lori Whitmore,” I said. “She admitted that she’d lied about knowing Gwen, but when I pressed her on the idea that her husband was writing bad loans, she flatly denied it.”
“Much like she did when you asked her if Greg had a girlfriend yesterday?” Grace reminded me.
“She was adamant that Greg would never do anything illegal. It wasn’t that he was so honest. He just hated the idea of going to jail. I believed her when she said it, but then again, I didn’t think she knew about Gwen, either. Lori was about to tell me something else when she got a phone call and left the donut shop abruptly. I have no idea who was on the other end, but she was visibly shaken by the call.”
“After we finish up in Union Square, we should track her down and ask her,” Grace suggested. “Maybe we can get her to open up if we approach her together.”
“Why not? It’s at least worth a shot,” I said.
Soon enough, Grace parked in front of Napoli’s, and we headed for the front door. I could almo
st taste the ravioli when I felt my heart sink.
“Closed for Lunch? What’s going on?” I asked Grace as we read the sign together.
“Hang on,” she said. Studying the fine print below, she read aloud, “Due to the overnight failure of our refrigeration system, we have been forced to close for lunch today in order to have it repaired and to resupply our larder. With any luck, we’ll be up and running this evening, so try us again then. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Oh, no. That’s terrible,” I said, sympathizing with Angelica and her daughters.
“Because we can’t eat, or because they had to shut the place down?” Grace asked.
“We can still eat, just not here,” I said. “I’ve had equipment problems before myself. What a nightmare. I wonder if there’s anything we can do to help them.”
“I have a feeling they have their hands full at the moment,” Grace said. “Knowing Angelica, if we offer to help, she’ll find a way to feed us, come what may, and she really can’t afford to take the time away from getting up and running again.”
“You’re right. Let’s see if we can find something else to eat in town.”
“Good luck with that,” Grace said. “Can you imagine anywhere that has anything near what the DeAngelis women offer?”
“I’d be happy with a flat soda and a stale sandwich at this point,” I said.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Grace said. “You just might get it.”
We found a little diner near the bank that served breakfast and lunch, so we decided to give it a try. As we walked in, I was surprised to see Benny paying his tab at the register.
“What a coincidence. We were just coming to see you,” I said with a smile.
“Sorry, but I can’t talk. I’m late as it is.”
He was gone so quickly that he almost forgot his change in his effort to get away from us.