Goodbye Cruller World

by Ginger Bolton

  Her office was decorated like a British men’s club from Victorian times, with dark wood paneling and two oak desks. I guessed that one was Vanessa’s. Roger had probably used the other one until he absconded—if he did—with Vanessa’s client list. The desk chairs, a couch, and two armchairs were all upholstered in green leather. The carpet was a deeper shade of green. “I meet with clients in here.” Vanessa pitched her voice low, showing reverence for the elegant space. “Some life coaches might opt for a new-age feel, but I prefer luxury. It’s comfy and calming. Besides, many of my clients are determined to increase their wealth. Being in this environment helps them visualize their own eventual financial success.”

  Misty, Samantha, and I made appreciative murmurs.

  “Now, come see our meeting room.” Vanessa’s tone changed to perky encouragement. “You can leave that box in here if you like, Emily.”

  I was not about to let the donuts out of my sight. “I’ll keep it with me. I’ll need it for my presentation.”

  She glanced at the bulky—and rather unsightly, I realized—carton in my arms. “If you’re sure it won’t be in your way . . .” She opened the door to a larger room. It was like a small gymnasium, with rock maple on the floor and acoustic tile on the walls and ceiling. There was a small stage to our left. Tables and chairs were lined up so that no one would have their backs to the stage, and no one would be facing it. Audience members would only have to turn sideways to see the speakers.

  The far end of the room was an open-concept kitchen that anyone would love in their home and wasn’t bad for an institution, either, with multiple ovens and burners, plenty of storage space, a huge fridge-freezer combination, and hard, shiny white counters, one of which, an island, divided the kitchen from the rest of the room. The island was being set up as a buffet. “Wow,” I said, about the kitchen.

  Vanessa was obviously and justifiably proud of it all. “We can fold up the tables, stack the chairs, and stow them away. We have plenty of room for exercise, yoga, meditation, courses, lectures, sit-down meals, and nearly everything we can think of.” She led us to a square table near the stage, with three chairs around it in a U shape, the middle one with its back to the stage. Vanessa placed her hand on that chair. “Emily, I’m putting you at the head table with April and me. Your friends can sit wherever they like.”

  We thanked her, and she went off to greet newcomers.

  Misty and Samantha chose the two seats nearest the head table. They’d be together, and I would be almost within whispering distance of them. I set the box behind my chair, next to the stage. Since I’d be sitting with my back to the box, I went over to Misty and Samantha and asked them to keep an eye on it and let me know if anyone tampered with it.

  “Good thing I keep handcuffs in my bag,” Misty muttered. I wasn’t sure if she was serious.

  Samantha raised her gaze to the ceiling and let out a huge sigh. “Show-off.”

  Almost every woman who entered the room—they all came from the hallway, not from Vanessa’s office—laughed and called out, “I can tell our speaker’s here!” and then commented on the Deputy Donut car. Everyone seemed to love that car, especially the donut and the sprinkles. I was beginning to like these ladies.

  After about two dozen people arrived, we were invited to the buffet table. April told me, “As our guest speaker, Emily, you should serve yourself first. I’ll go ahead of you to show you the ropes.”

  It appeared that everyone would be served from the same kettles and woks.

  I turned around, found Misty watching me, and wrinkled my nose like a bunny. Misty scrunched her mouth to one side, apparently her method of showing she got the message. Samantha smiled and wiggled her nose. She looked about to put her hands, index fingers pointed up like bunny ears, to the sides of her head, but she seemed to think better of it. Still grinning, she lowered her hands to her sides.

  Following April’s example, I scooped brown rice out of a kettle. Next, five women stood behind five woks. “We take turns serving,” April informed me. “My turn was last month.” A tented card in front of each wok listed the ingredients in that particular wok. April explained, “Some of our members are allergic to certain veggies and nuts.” April selected a mixture featuring baby corn, broccoli, and cashews. It looked good, so I asked for the same meal. At the end of the lineup of woks, we could choose from a variety of sauces. I opted for hot and spicy. The cold beverage was tap water in a punch bowl with ice and lemon and lime slices, while the hot ones were various herbal teas and—surprise, surprise—organic green tea. I ladled cold water for myself.

  The meal was delicious. After we finished, we each took our dishes to the buffet table, where this week’s servers collected them and packed them into the dishwasher.

  Dessert was platters of fruit. We used tongs to pick up melon slices, pineapple wedges, small bunches of grapes, and quartered apples and oranges. I remained quiet about the treats I’d brought.

  After we ate the fruit, Vanessa climbed the two steps to the stage and introduced me. I joined her and set my carton on the stage beside the podium.

  Suzanne and Jenn slipped into the room from the hallway and sat at the first table they came to.

  Vanessa went back down to the head table and sat with April. They tilted their heads back and looked up expectantly at me. I thanked Vanessa and the entire group, and then launched into the talk I’d been thinking about all day. “Thank you for the yummy dinner. I’m a little embarrassed to be speaking to this group, especially after that meal, because I run a donut shop, and donuts are not exactly health food.” As I’d hoped they would, women laughed. I bent over, opened the carton, pulled out my Deputy Donut hat, settled it onto my head, and struck a pose, pointing at the donut. Nearly everyone laughed. Maybe my speech wouldn’t put very many of them to sleep. I glanced at Samantha, saw the teasing light in her eyes, and remembered how her smile had caused me to giggle back in ninth grade when I was giving a report to the entire class and trying to be serious. Careful not to look at Samantha or Misty again, I told the story of Deputy Donut.

  I didn’t explain that I’d started making donuts to console myself after my detective husband was killed, didn’t mention that my business partner was Fallingbrook’s former police chief, and I downplayed my connections with other police officers. Vanessa and April were possibly murderers, and I didn’t want them to be careful about telling me things, like potentially important clues. As it was, the name Deputy Donut and the police officers they might have seen in or near our café were probably more than enough to make them super-cautious around me.

  I told the women that I had always loved making donuts and had started my business by taking “cakes” made of stuck-together donuts in fun shapes, like princesses and race cars, to kids’ birthday parties.

  “The next thing I knew,” I said, “people were begging me to open a shop where they could buy my donuts and coffee every day. And my cat was already named Deputy Donut, and you all know the stereotype about police officers and donuts.” People laughed. “My cat doesn’t like donuts,” I said, “except as hockey pucks, which is a great game for her except that I don’t care for sticky floors.” More laughter.

  In the back of the room, Jenn held up her phone, probably taking my picture as I spoke. I smiled to show her that I appreciated the thoughtful gesture, and then went on with my lecture. “My father-in-law wanted to join the new venture, and we named the shop after my cat. So, now we had the beginnings of a brand. We would feature cats, cops, and donuts inside our café, on our signs, and in our advertising and promotion. We designed the hats, and our logo.” I pulled the apron out of the box and put it on. “Only the people closest to the stage will be able to see the detail, but it’s the silhouette of a cat wearing, rather jauntily, a cap like the one on my head. If you look closely, you’ll see the donut on the cat’s hat.”

  A woman called out, “I saw that logo on your car outside!”

  I smiled. “And using a pretend police car wit
h a donut on top to deliver our donuts fit in with everything else.” Women applauded. I told them about the search for the perfect building, the headaches of renovation, and the satisfaction when everything came together. I ended with, “Seeing people close their eyes in bliss when they take a bite of a donut or a sip of coffee or tea makes our hard work worthwhile.”

  Vanessa joined me at the podium and said into the mic, “Has your venture made you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams?”

  I made an exaggerated face of dismay and leaned toward the mic. “I’m not sure about wildest, but we have so many customers that we’re going to need to hire at least one more employee.”

  She turned the mic toward her mouth and asked, “Have you thought of changing to all organic, gluten-free, and sugar-free products? The public are becoming more health conscious every day, and you would increase your sales. There’s sugar in honey, but honey provides other benefits.”

  I had just been life-coached.

  “It’s an idea,” I agreed, “and that leads me to my next topic.” I smiled, drawing out the moment and enjoying the quiet anticipation in the room. “I have something for you all.” Knowing that I had their full attention, I picked up the carton and carried it off the stage. The counter they’d used as a buffet table was now cleared of everything except a replenished bowl of ice water, carafes of hot water, clean mugs and glasses, and pretty wooden boxes of different types of organic teas. I set my cardboard carton on the floor beside the counter. With a dramatic flourish, I removed the bakery boxes and set them on the counter.

  I heard a chorus of “ooohs.” Some might have been of hunger, but others might have been of concern.

  Frowning, Vanessa reached for the microphone.

  I quickly said, rather loudly, “My partner and I created vegan mini-donuts for you to sample. They’re gluten-free, made from ancient grains, with no added fats, no eggs, no dairy, and the only sweetening is honey. You might think you see chocolate on some of them, but it’s a carob glaze. Come help yourselves.”

  On the stage, Vanessa tapped the microphone and got everyone’s attention. “Wait,” she ordered.

  Uh-oh. Did she object to carob? My hand over one of the bakery boxes, I hesitated for a second, but then I stubbornly continued opening the boxes.

  “I have a confession to make,” Vanessa said into the mic.

  Near the back of the room, Suzanne sat taller. Jenn glanced quickly at her sister, but Suzanne focused on Vanessa. Jenn pointed her phone’s camera toward Vanessa.

  At the front of the room, Misty was also sitting up straight and watching Vanessa. Samantha winked at me. My answering smile was a little strained. I fanned out our logo-printed paper napkins and put them next to the boxes. I set the Deputy Donut brochures beside the napkins.

  Every inch dramatically earnest, Vanessa tossed her blond hair behind her shoulders. “If it weren’t for chocolate,” she announced, “I might not be here tonight.” Members in the audience gasped. She hushed them with a raised hand. “I would be alive, but I might not be here.” She pointed down toward the stage floor. “Here as in here, in this room.”

  She took a deep breath. “As you all know, the Legghaupt Life Coach method promotes healthy eating. We avoid junk foods and empty calories.”

  Women in the audience nodded, and some cheered and applauded.

  When the noise died down, Vanessa continued. “However, we all have cravings sometimes, particularly for foods that might not be good for us, and sometimes we need to listen to our bodies. My weakness is chocolate, and that weakness might have actually saved me from a fate almost as bad as death. Or maybe as bad. Maybe even worse . . .”

  She looked out over the audience as if gauging our reaction. No one seemed to be moving. She went on. “Just over a week ago, I took April to a conference. I think we told many of you about our disappointment with that conference. Since it wasn’t everything we’d hoped it would be, we left early. However, I had this nearly uncontrollable craving for a chocolate bar, and not an expensive, dark chocolate one with some redeeming features, either. No, I wanted one of those milk chocolate ones with a sweet and gooey center and maybe a few nuts, the sort of chocolate bar that one can buy in vending machines. But it was about eleven at night and there were no vending machines where we were. I didn’t want anyone who knows me in Fallingbrook to see me buying chocolate. I didn’t want any of you . . .” She waved her hand, palm down, to encompass the entire audience. “To know about my failing. We got into the car and drove, not toward Fallingbrook, but away from it. We drove north for over an hour until we found an all-night convenience store at a gas station, and we not only got our chocolate bars, we ate them. And we kept our shameful secret.”

  She made an overly sad face. “But about the time we were buying those chocolate bars, a tragedy occurred in the building where the conference we’d left was being held, and a man died.” Obviously, Vanessa didn’t realize that Roger’s widow was in the audience. Jenn stopped taking pictures, laid her phone down on the table in front of her, and sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped on top of her phone. Even from the far side of the room, I saw how white her knuckles became.

  “Now, here’s the thing,” Vanessa said. “The police suspect foul play. All week, the police have harassed April and me, interrogated us about where we were that night, and neither of us wanted to admit that we’d driven for miles hunting for cheap chocolate bars. Finally, we had to confess that we’d been together, which immediately gave both of us an alibi.”

  The trace of a frown crossed Misty’s face, and I knew what she was thinking. Waiting an entire week to tell the police they’d been together somewhere far from the crime did not necessarily exonerate either of the two women.

  Vanessa continued her story. “If we hadn’t told the police that we’d been together, we might have ended up being arrested for harming that man! So, thanks to giving in to our desire for chocolate, April and I are here tonight.” She smiled. “Now go enjoy Emily’s carob donuts. I’m sure they’re delicious, and better for us than chocolate bars crammed with dangerous chemicals. I’m going to have one!” Still smiling, she ran gracefully down the steps from the stage.

  Women scraped their chairs back and headed for the bakery boxes of health-food mini-donuts.

  Vanessa shook my hand. “I told you that you could do it, Emily. You did fine. The women all appreciated what you had to tell them. Thank you. And now, the next time someone asks you to give a speech, you won’t be worried. You’ll know you can do it!”

  I hadn’t exactly been worried. I’d only told her that I hadn’t prepared a speech. Maybe to a life coach, I’d sounded anxious. I thanked her.

  Women rushed to the buffet table for donuts.

  Jenn and Suzanne each took one. I thought I’d brought enough donuts for everyone to have at least one, but some of the women liked them so much that they kept coming back for more. I didn’t eat any.

  While I was standing nearby accepting compliments, Jenn put her hand on my arm, bent down, and whispered, “Now we know that Gerald Stone . . .” She winced and her eyes reddened. “Did it.”

  Behind Jenn, Suzanne’s eyes seemed to roll back into her head. She turned pale and wavered. I reached around Jenn and attempted, unsuccessfully, to grab one of Suzanne’s arms. “Suzanne!”

  Jenn whipped around, saw her sister about to fall, and darted a hand out toward her.

  Suzanne sagged, touching the back of a woman behind her. The woman turned, looked about to scold whoever had bumped her, and then must have realized what was happening. She caught Suzanne just as Suzanne appeared to lose consciousness.

  “Samantha!” I shouted. “Misty!”

  Chapter 24

  In seconds, Samantha was kneeling beside Suzanne and taking her pulse. Jenn was on Suzanne’s other side, holding her hand and talking to her. Samantha looked at Jenn. “Your sister’s coming around. Her color’s better.”

  Jenn squeaked, “Should I call 911?” She was nearly as
pale as Suzanne.

  Samantha answered, “I’m an Emergency Medical Technician. I don’t think she needs an ambulance.”

  Jenn rubbed her hair out of her face. “How did you know she’s my . . . oh, you’re the one who . . .” Tears brimmed over.

  Samantha said gently, “Yes. My partner and I took you to the hospital early last Sunday morning. I heard about your husband. I’m sorry.” Except for the pink streaks in her hair, none of Samantha’s usual impishness was visible.

  Suzanne opened her eyes and struggled to sit up. Jenn and Samantha helped her, and then Suzanne insisted on moving onto a chair. Samantha asked Jenn to get Suzanne water or fruit juice. Jenn jumped up and headed to Vanessa.

  Misty took me aside and asked, “Did you see what she ate, if anything?”

  “She wasn’t here in time for dinner, and I don’t think she ate anything besides one of my health-food donuts.” I glanced toward the bakery boxes. “They’re all gone. I think nearly everyone in here had one.”

  “I didn’t. I was talking to Samantha. We didn’t get to the donuts in time. Did you eat one?”

  I shook my head. “Not here. I wasn’t sure there would be enough. I ate one at Deputy Donut earlier. And I’m sure no one did anything to those donuts after I brought them here.”

  Misty frowned toward Samantha, who was helping Suzanne hold a glass of water. “Did that woman have anything to drink that you know of, I mean before right now?”

  “I didn’t see her drink anything, but I wasn’t watching everyone the entire time.”

  “Think she’s pregnant?”

  “I . . . hadn’t thought of that. She’s about forty-five.”

  “Doesn’t rule it out. Her sister’s, what, ten years younger?”

  “Jenn’s about that. But she’s not . . .” I was going to say that Jenn wasn’t pregnant, but I didn’t really know. “Wait a second. Jenn fainted Saturday night.”