Forest Outings (A Coffee and Crime Mystery Book 3)

by Nan Sampson

  She saw the worry in his eyes, though his smile never faltered. “I guess your mom filled you in on all the local goings on.”

  “If you mean that idiot real estate developer, yeah.” He took a deep breath, sighed. “But don’t worry. We’ll get it all sorted out. No way am I gonna let them get any of our land.” He looked around at the café. “The place looks good. From the way Mom talked about the incident with the bus, I’d expected there still to be a giant hole in the front of the shop.”

  Ellie grimaced. A few months ago, when Ellie had been in Chicago after the death of an old college friend, the driver of a tour bus full of potential patrons had lost control of the vehicle and crashed through her front window. “I think the story has grown some in the telling. Your father and Seth put up a couple of pieces of plywood over the window and within a day or so, after the insurance adjuster came in, they had it fixed up good as new.”

  He peered at the front window, as though assessing the work, but his gaze wandered away distractedly. His attention finally came to rest on the menu board, scrutinizing it as though he’d never seen it before. “So, um, what’s new with you?”

  She shrugged, watching emotions flicker across his face, and his hands bunch and unbunch in his coat pocket. What was up with him? “Not much. Same ole, same ole.”

  He forced a light tone and fixed his eyes on hers, waggled his eyebrows, in a fair imitation of his usual playfulness. “That’s not what I hear.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how people talk, taking a little thing and blowing it all out of proportion.” She stepped behind the counter and fixed him his usual - a hot cider with caramel - and squirted whipped cream on the top. “Enough about me. Tell me all about the symposium, your work, everything. I finally got to read all of the details of your little escapade in Washington state last year. Holy cow, Josh, you didn’t share any of that when you were here over the summer. You totally glossed over all of it. Those lumber jacks might have torn you into little pieces. I’m sure your mom was scared to death that they would. Were there really explosives in that shack or was that all just a ploy to get the loggers to capitulate?”

  He laughed. “No, no explosives. That was just a rumor someone started afterwards. We’re not terrorists.”

  She handed him the cup and waved him to a table. “At least you look healthy now. When you came home, you looked like some refugee from a third world country.”

  He scraped one of the ice cream chairs back and sat down. “Slow down! I can only answer one question at a time and you’re avoiding mine. Sit down with me.”

  There was no one else beating a path to her shop’s door, so she agreed. “Just for a sec though. So come on, tell me the real story.”

  “Not much to tell. Frankly, it was boring and tedious.”

  “Eight weeks holed up in a cold, wet logging shack, denying yourself food, with an angry mob of loggers hovering outside and a handful of lumber industry snakes plotting your down fall and all you can do is say it was boring and tedious? Great Goddess, Josh, what would it take to ring your excitement bell?”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her again. “Can’t tell you – I’d make you blush.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now who’s avoiding? Seriously. What was it like? I read in the papers that you were successful, that they’re going to leave the forest alone.”

  “Well, for the moment, anyway. We’ve got a three-year injunction against the logging company, preventing them from touching any of the old growth. But in three years, who knows what will happen.”

  Ellie leaned forward. “So what’s he like?”

  Josh gave a lopsided grin. “He? You mean Link?”

  Lincoln Fairweather was the poster boy for The Whole Earth Society. A tall, well-built young man with chiseled features and a shock of wavy chestnut hair, he was as photogenic as he was charming. He’d put the Society on the map with his adroit manipulation of the media during the stand-off the two young men had made at the logging cabin, and the press hadn’t been able to get enough of him since.

  “Well, who else… unless there’s another ‘he’ in your life?”

  Josh took a considered sip of his cider. “Actually, um, we’re not really together anymore. Not that anyone knew we were anyway.” He cleared his throat. “At any rate, you’ll get to meet him. He and Sierra and Matt are with me. They’ll be staying at The Birches. I thought, if you’re available, you could stop by after you get off this evening and we could buy you a beer.” He met her gaze. “You could bring your, um ‘friend’ too. Wouldn’t want to leave your new young man out in the cold.”

  “Ach!” She threw her hands up. “You’ve been talking to Per. First, Charlie’s not my ‘young man’, and second, I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, come on, Ellie. Give him a call, have him meet you after work. You’ll get to meet the great Link Fairweather live and in person. Plus, I want you to meet the rest of the team too. Sierra and Matt may not have been in the spotlight, but we couldn’t have won the battle without their hard work behind the scenes.”

  She sighed. Parties, even impromptu ones, were really not her thing. But she liked Josh too much to turn him down. “Okay, fine. But only if you promise to tell me the behind the scenes story.”

  Josh’s jaw clenched briefly, although he was still smiling. “Oh, trust me, you’ll get chapter and verse from Link. He’s an amazing story teller.” He stood abruptly. “Look, you’re trying to work, and I need to get back to the farm. Just promise me you’ll be there tonight.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  His smile grew warm again. “Great. See you then!”

  He was gone before she had gotten to her feet, having deftly avoided answering any of her questions, and leaving her with an odd feeling that there was a whole lot more going on behind the scenes, both in terms of his love life and his career.

  She moved back behind the counter as the door opened again and a handful of regulars came in for their morning cuppas. As she greeted the spate of customers, she put worrying about her young friend on hold, promising herself she’d find a way to catch him alone before he left town again. Meanwhile, she put on her best smile and concentrated on taking care of the business at hand.

  Marg arrived shortly after the morning rush had subsided, full of apologies. Her hair — this month a more subdued strawberry blonde — was pulled back in its usual pony tail, and the smear of freckles across her nose that she usually kept covered up with make-up were clearly visible.

  Ellie was sitting on her stool behind the counter, reading the latest Lake Country mystery novel as the older woman bustled in. “Oh, Ellie, I’m so sorry. Was it bad? Did you burn the muffins again?”

  Ellie grinned. “Yup. But at least the fire department got here quickly.”

  Marg’s face blanched. “Oh no! My kitchen!” She raced past Ellie and through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  She was back a second later, and now her cheeks were pink with anger. “Why, you rotten little liar! You could have given me a heart attack!”

  “You’re so gullible, Marg. Fix youself a cup of coffee and sit down. Everything’s fine. The muffins weren’t up to your standards, but they were edible. The morning rush was frankly not so much. The usual crowd, and then nothing. I’ve gotten through three chapters since Louisa Hennig toddled in with some malicious garbage about Harvey Briggs and then toddled back out again.”

  “The tongue on that woman, I swear. She’ll wind up in a hot place because of it, you mark my words.”

  “Speaking of people who’ll wind up in that hell of yours, guess who stopped in almost before I got the door open this morning.”

  Marg tied her apron in the back and snapped on a pair of clear plastic gloves. “I can’t imagine.”

  “The Odious Margaret.”

  That stopped Marg in her tracks. “No!”

  “Yes. Let’s see, she ordered a cinnamon latte, no dairy with cinnamon, complaining the whole time about the utterly outrageous lack of a Starbuc
ks or a decent grocery store.”

  “Why?”

  “Why complain about a proper grocery store?”

  “No, why on earth did she come here? And at that hour? Seth says she doesn’t even crawl out of bed until almost lunch time.”

  Ellie shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”

  “Well, what did she say?”

  “She wanted to confirm the information she’d gotten from somewhere—”

  “Karl Howard, no doubt.”

  “—that I wasn’t from around here, that I was, in fact, a transplant from Chicago.”

  “Why would she care about that?”

  “I have no idea. But I’m nervous that she’s in the market for a local business and is sniffing around for someone who might be persuaded to sell out.”

  “Oh, god! Do you suppose that means she and Karl are serious?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know. But when I head out for lunch, I’m going to ask around, see if she’s been talking to anyone else.”

  “No one, but no one, would sell to that bitch.”

  Ellie stuck a book mark in her paperback and stuffed it under the counter. “Don’t be too sure. Business is slow for everyone. You never know how close to the edge people are skating in an economy like this one.”

  “Even so, how could anyone even consider it? She’s such a… vulture.”

  Glancing up at the cow clock, Ellie hopped off her stool. “What’s on the menu for the afternoon?”

  “I was planning on baking up some ham and cheese scones. You want to take a couple to Per?”

  “Sure. Although I promised him some of Madchen’s Ooey Gooey Macaroni and Cheese and a side of your ham and cheese biscuits.”

  Marg laughed. “That man eats better than anyone in town, thanks to you.” She propped the swinging door to the kitchen open, then went about clattering and clanging bowls and pans for a few minutes. “Speaking of men, how’s Charlie?”

  “He’s Charlie.” The thought of tall lanky men reminded her of her other news. “But I almost forgot. “Guess who’s back in town for a few days?”

  Marg poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hah. Scooped you. I heard about Josh this morning, when I spoke to Arabella. Apparently, he and his friends rolled into town last night about midnight.” She waved her hand in front of her chest. “Ooh la la, that Lincoln Fairweather is completely yummy.”

  “Marg! He’s young enough to be your son!”

  “Makes no never mind. He’s a slice of hunk pie. Arabella says he’s ever so polite.”

  “Well, at least she’s got one guest she won’t mind taking care of. How about the other two?”

  “Fine, I guess. Bella didn’t mention anything about either of them. She just went on and on about ‘Link’.” She giggled like a school girl. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a celebrity stay here in Horizon, and him sort of being one of our own too.”

  Ellie was starting to dislike Link without having ever met him. Even if he had been Josh’s lover. “It’s not like he’s a movie star or a politician.”

  “No, it’s even better. He’s out there fighting for the good of the planet. Good looks, and a good heart. Makes me wish I had a daughter.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Hey, if you weren’t already spoken for, I’d be figuring out how to get you hooked up with him!”

  Ellie opened her mouth to argue, but either way she’d lose. “What do you mean, he’s one of our own?”

  “He’s got relations hereabouts. Grew up elsewhere, but spent a few summers here when he was young. Far as I’m concerned, that makes him one of ours.” Marg eyed her. “I like Charlie and all, but if you haven’t let him move in yet, maybe he’s just not your cup of tea. Which means Link might be…”

  Ellie groaned. “Doesn’t your batter need your attention?”

  Marg chuckled, then disappeared back into the kitchen, and started work on her scones.

  For Ellie, lunch time couldn’t come fast enough.

  The “lunch rush” consisted of a family of four passing through town on their way to a funeral in Wadsworth the following day. They’d eaten lunch at the Crock Pot up the street and Madchen Schuler had directed them to Ellie’s place when the woman said she needed a cappuccino for the road, and was there a Starbucks in town.

  After that, things were so dead that Ellie had nearly finished her paperback by the time five o’clock rolled around. She flipped the open sign to closed, then went about cleaning and shutting down the espresso and coffee machines and brushing out the grinder. From the back, she could hear Marg humming something to herself as she got the kitchen set up for the next morning.

  By the time Charlie arrived to pick her up, the floor had been mopped and the counters wiped down.

  “I bring greetings from your Ambassador from Norway, my Queen.” He swept forward in a low bow, careful to keep his sloppy rubber boots on the rug in front of the door.

  She couldn’t help smiling, a fact that annoyed her. “So what is the news from our esteemed and learned Norwegian.”

  “I am to tell you that he enjoyed lunch greatly and to pay my compliments to the Queen’s baker. He seemed to think the ham and cheese biscuits were the best he’s ever tasted.”

  She looked at his feet, and gave a slight shake of her head. “Hey, Marg! Got a sec?”

  Wiping her hands on her flour crusted apron, Marg appeared in the doorway. “Charlie!! I didn’t know you were coming!” She crossed the shop quickly and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Brrr. You’re freezing. Come inside and I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Sorry, Marg. We’ve been commanded to appear before the visiting celebrities. I was told to make myself presentable and to be here promptly at five.”

  Marg raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  Ellie hurried to explain. “Josh asked us to stop by for a drink at The Birches after we closed up. You’re welcome to come with us – Josh would love to see you. He missed you when he stopped in this morning.”

  Marg put a hand to her hair. “I’d love to… but Ellie, I can’t go like this. I’ve got flour in my hair, and I got blueberry juice all over my jeans…”

  “Then go home and spruce yourself up and meet us there.”

  “Do you think? You sure Josh wouldn’t mind?”

  Ellie wasn’t sure what Josh would think, but he was raised too well to make a fuss about it. Ellie knew, too, that Marg was dying to meet the great Link Fairweather. “Of course not.”

  The Marg’s face fell. “Rats. I’ve got no car. I have to wait for Seth to come pick me up, and that’ll be at least another hour.”

  “Nonsense,” Charlie said. “We’ll run you by your house and wait for you. Ellie can use that cell phone she pays for but never even turns on to call Seth and let him know he doesn’t have to bother. Then Seth, in turn, can tell this Josh we’re going to be a little bit late.”

  It was a handy solution, and typical of Charlie. “You must have been a knight errant in your last life, McCallum.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Jeez, Gooden, that sounded almost like a compliment. Is there a gas leak here? Are you sick from the fumes?”

  “Ha ha. Marg, finish up in the kitchen – I’ll call Seth and let him know the plan.”

  “Oh, excellent! I can’t believe I get to meet Lincoln Fairweather.” She bustled back into the kitchen.

  When she was out of sight, Charlie turned to Ellie. “Does someone have a tiny little crush on the darling of the eco-terrorist set?”

  “Just a wee bit. Of course, she also has a crush on Johnny Depp. I think it’s more about dark and dangerous good looks than the principles by which either one of them live.”

  Charlie gave an exaggerated sigh. “But what about me? Don’t I have dark and dangerous good looks?”

  Ellie laughed. “I hate to break it to you, McCallum, but I’m not sure even a fluffy little bunny rabbit would call you dangerous.” She patted his arm. “But don’t feel bad. You got the dark
good looks thing covered.”

  He held her eyes for a second longer than she was comfortable with. Then he leaned close and murmured in her ear. “Aw, you say the sweetest things.”

  The sensation of his breath on her neck tingled all the way down to her toes and then back up again.

  After a moment, he pulled back and broke into his patented, make-all-the-girls-gooey grin. A grin, she thought, that once upon a time had merely irritated her. “There really must be a gas leak.”

  “Ha ha, again, smart ass.” She took a playful swing at him, felt another jolt of adrenaline as he blocked her punch and grabbed her hand.

  “You know, Gooden, one of these days you’re actually going to connect with one of those jabs.” He still had hold of her hand, and his fingers entwined with hers. He took a step forward, forcing her to back up, until her back was against the door jamb, his face just inches from her own.

  The heat between them could have kept all of Earl Mough’s cows warm all winter long. She closed her eyes as he leaned in for the kiss.

  Something clattered and Ellie jumped. Charlie took a step back, his cheeks flushing pink.

  Marg stood watching them. “Oops. Sorry, you two. Dropped my keys. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Charlie nervously cleared his throat, and Ellie brushed a non-existent piece of hair from her face. “No biggie. I mean, you weren’t interrupting anything.” She licked her lips, wishing she had a glass of water. Suddenly she was parched. “You ready?”

  “Yep. What do you think, should I wear that purple sweater with the sequins or that really form-fitting, red one with the, you know, neckline?” She opened the door, chattering about wardrobe choices as she went.

  Ellie was only half-listening. The bulk of her attention was on her hand, still entangled in Charlie’s. His pulse was hammering, or maybe it was her own. He didn’t seem inclined to let go. It was a fortunate thing, then, that Marg already had her keys out and, as though it were something she did every night, locked the front door to the shop behind them.