A Spicy Secret

by D. Savannah George

  “I wonder if one of those families may have left the recipes?” Alice said.

  “It’s certainly possible,” John said. “Why haven’t you contacted the Swanns directly and asked them?”

  “Well, I haven’t wanted to mess something up in the negotiations by getting in touch with them,” Alice replied. “After all, I’ve never really dealt with them directly, just their management company, and I’ve only met them the one time.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” John told her. He went to his desk, looked up the Swanns’ number and jotted it on the back of one of his business cards, which he then handed to Alice. “I’m sure they won’t mind hearing from you, especially now that we’ve worked everything out.”

  Allison knocked on the door and poked her head in. “John, I know you said to hold your calls, but Gwen says she needs to speak with you.”

  John shook hands with Alice and Annie. “Pardon me, ladies, for kicking you out, but the real boss calleth.”

  ****

  Malone’s Hardware Store stayed open late on Thursday nights, and Ian and Annie had arranged to stop by after Town Hall closed to look through copies of The Point. They’d been meaning to do so for about a month, but had been unable to coordinate their schedules.

  “Hey you two,” Mike said, pulling on his left ear. Annie had noticed he did that when he was thinking. “Go on back and help yourself. My morgue is your morgue,” he added with a laugh, using the newspaper term for the room containing previous editions, photos and notes on stories. “Thankfully, it’s a lot neater and more organized than it used to be. Fiona and Greg spent a lot of time back there.”

  “We will have to thank your lovely wife and your reporter for doing all that the work,” Ian said as he and Annie walked into the back room.

  “This is definitely neater than the last time I tried to dig for clues in here,” Annie said, looking around the crowded space. Copies of the newspaper had been stacked on shelves rather than flung about any which way, and the shelves had labels with dates neatly printed on them.

  “It really is,” Ian agreed. “Someday I’d like to have everything archived electronically so it can easily be used for research. Plus, these pages hold the history of Stony Point. I’ve done some preliminary research on getting that done, and it will be expensive. So, for now it will just have to be a long-term goal.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Annie answered. “At least they’ve got the papers in date order now. That should help a bit. We know my grandparents bought Grey Gables and the carriage house in 1947, and that they renovated the carriage house in 1984. Gram sold it to the Swanns in 1990, and Alice started living there in 2008. We know we don’t have to look at anything after that. Maybe focus on the summers when the Swanns would have been visiting.”

  Annie ambled along the shelves, running her fingers over the dates. She stopped when she got to some in the 1970s. “Oh! I didn’t know Mike had been putting out the paper this long!”

  “He hasn’t,” Ian told her. “His dad, Mike Sr., started the paper—and the hardware store for that matter—back in 1955, I think. Mike and I grew up together and spent many a happy hour in here playing with bolts and whatnot. At the time, Mike didn’t have any interest in the paper, but he pretty much inherited both the store and the paper when his dad passed away. He grew to love being the town historian.”

  “Wow, I never thought about you two being friends for so long,” Annie said. “My unpredictable childhood prevented me from putting down permanent roots in any one place. Sometimes I’d spend the school year with my Aunt Susan in Texas if my folks were away on mission work. That, of course, is why I attended Texas A&M for college, and that’s where I met Wayne. I spent time with my parents when they weren’t on a missionary trip. When they were in the States, we did a lot of traveling around and visiting churches to raise money.”

  “And you spent your summers here with Betsy.”

  “Yes. Those were the best. I’m surprised you and I didn’t meet each other then.”

  Ian chuckled. “Well, I am a few years older than you. I’m sure I didn’t even notice you back then. After all, you would have been a mere kid, and I a suave teenager.”

  “Oh, yes, I keep forgetting about your advanced dotage,” Annie teased him.

  They pulled out stacks of papers from the early 1990s and started looking through them.

  “So, did you ever want to go with your parents on their mission trips?” Ian asked. He replaced his first stack with another one, which he flipped through quickly.

  “Sometimes, yes. I missed them terribly. But they wrote often and sent me tons of photos and presents on every major occasion that we were apart. I grew up knowing how much they loved me, and I felt pride in what they did to help the world at large.” She finished looking through a pile of papers, put it back on the shelf, and grabbed a stack from the 1970s. “I was also keenly aware that they wanted me to have as normal a childhood as I could. Of course, we knew a lot of missionaries and would attend conferences, and a lot of the missionary kids I knew seemed pretty miserable.”

  “How so?” Ian looked up from the papers. “By the way, I have no idea what we’re looking for, but so far, no mention of the Swanns.”

  “I don’t know either. Maybe the Hook and Needle Club can help raise funds to get the papers online. Seems we probably look at these more than anyone else.”

  “But first you have to finish Blanket Haiti.”

  “Yes, we do. Kate is convinced we’ll never meet the goal.”

  “Definitely not with my help,” Ian said. “I’m pretty hopeless at crocheting, despite your best efforts to teach me. But anyway, why do you say the missionary kids were miserable?”

  “Well, all of them could be put into one of three categories. One: shy, withdrawn, and no social skills; two: bubbly, extroverted, and the life of the party; or three: the rebellious kid with lots of problems— drugs, trouble with the law, pregnancies, you name it. After spending a week at the conference with those kids every year, I knew my parents had chosen the right thing for me. I had social skills, friends, a family who loved and cared for me, and I didn’t have to keep starting over all of the time. I think when missionary parents took their children with them, they would spend more time taking care of others than their own children, and it showed. My parents took care of me, just in a different way. For me it was a better way.”

  “That makes sense.” Ian set aside a pile he’d gone through and started looking at another. “Oh, look—here’s an article about one of the Swanns’ parties. June 1993.” Annie leaned over his shoulder and took in the photo of a crowd in front of the carriage house. “It reads: ‘Residents Yvonne and Arthur Swann host a party to celebrate the first day of summer.’” He skimmed the article and then said, “Well, there doesn’t appear to be anything useful here.”

  Mike came back into the morgue at seven o’clock. “All right, you sleuths. Sorry, but it’s time for me to close up shop. Fiona doesn’t like it when I get home late on lasagna night.”

  “Oh, no problem! I had no idea it had gotten so late,” Annie said. She and Ian put away the last of the newspapers they’d pulled out.

  “Did you find anything helpful?” Mike asked.

  “Sadly, no. Well, only that your writing has improved over the years,” Ian told him.

  “Well, thank you—I think,” he replied, turning out the lights in the morgue and then the main sales floor before locking up from the outside.

  “See you two later,” he said, striding down the street to his car.

  “So now what?” Ian asked as they stood on the sidewalk. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat at Maplehurst Inn? We haven’t been there in a while.”

  “Sure, I’d love to,” Annie said.

  They walked to the restaurant arm in arm.

  15

  At the next Hook and Needle Club meeting, Kate handed folded sheets of paper to the ladies gathered in the warm circle of chairs. Outside,
it was dark and snowing. The bright colors of the shop made everyone feel cheerful, despite the terrible weather. Gwen was making her first Hook and Needle Club appearance since her operation.

  After a few minutes of hugging and chatting, Kate handed a folded sheet of paper to each lady. “Here’s more information on the orphanage, provided by our dear Reverend Wallace. He thought you’d want to read it so you’d know how important our efforts are.” Kate said. She glanced at Gwen and Mary Beth, smiled, and then continued. “OK everyone, report in!”

  Kate watched as Alice opened hers, glanced at the paper, and then shoved it in her bag. “Should I talk about the mystery now, or wait until later?” asked Alice.

  “Wait until later. Tell us how you’re doing on your blankets.”

  “I’ve got three to donate! One that I made, and two that I found as I cleaned up the carriage house.” She got up and colored in an outline on the tracking poster in sunny yellow, and signed her name with a flourish in red.

  “Great. Anyone else?” Kate tried to keep a straight face as she watched the other ladies read the notes she’d handed out. The one she’d given to Alice only talked about the orphanage, while everyone else’s had a different message.

  Annie read hers, nodded, and then said, “I’m still working on several. I’m afraid I haven’t finished any of them. And obviously Ian isn’t here today. He said to give everyone his regards—and apologies for his inability to crochet well enough to help. He promises to purchase some blankets closer to the due date to make sure we meet our goal.”

  Kate knew Peggy would have a hard time not saying anything, so she skipped over her and went to Stella and Jason.

  “I dug around and found three more blankets I made years ago, and here’s a new one I just finished,” Jason said. He, too, got up and made his mark on the poster. “I didn’t realize how many I’d made over the years until I started looking. Since Mrs. Brickson is my only family, I never had anyone to give them to. I’m so glad they will finally be put to good use.”

  “Jason, be a dear and fill in another of those things,” Stella said. “I’ve finished two more.”

  Gwen was next. “I didn’t have a lot to keep me from going crazy with boredom,” she said, “so I stayed busy on the orphanage blankets. I finished four and am almost through another. Jason, while you are at it, would you color in another and sign my name?”

  Before anyone could continue, Gwen spoke up again. “Alice, I was wondering if you could come by Wedgewood after the meeting and help me with some hints for redecorating. It’s almost spring, and I want to do some updates in my dining room. I’d like to put your Divine Décor expertise to work.”

  “Sure,” Alice said. “I was going to lunch with Annie, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Is that OK, Annie?”

  Her friend smiled sweetly, glancing at her note from Kate. “Of course not,” she said. “I’ll see you back at your house later.”

  “My house!” Alice beamed. “That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  Mary Beth added one more blanket to the box, and Peggy unfurled her second quilt. “I’m proud to say that Emily actually helped with this one: she picked out some of the fabric and sewed some of the stitches.”

  “Wonderful! That’s fifteen blankets today, bringing us up to a grand total of sixty-seven,” Kate said.

  “I have to stop by Ocean View later this afternoon and pick up some more blankets from the residents,” Annie said. “I don’t know how many they’ve completed.”

  “Oh, good,” Kate sighed. “We’re over halfway there, and we still have almost three months to go. I’ve been so worried that the project was just too big to achieve.”

  “Nonsense,” said Stella. “Ambitious, yes, but not unattainable. I’m so proud of the way the community has pulled together. I keep forgetting to mention that visitors to the Cultural Center have really enjoyed our display of blankets and the story behind them. We put out a donation box and have collected about $500 so far for the church’s mission trip.”

  “Oh! That’s so exciting!” Kate exclaimed. “OK, Alice, now tell us your latest on the mystery.”

  “Well, unfortunately, I’ve not really got that much to tell. I think everyone has probably heard by now what Cecil Lewey said about not remembering anyone staying in the carriage house when the Holdens owned it.”

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  “I signed some loan papers after the last meeting, and John told me it would be OK if I contacted the Swanns directly. I had been afraid to do so, in case it threw a wrench in the process of buying the carriage house. Apparently they occasionally rented it out during the winters. I’ve called several times, but they’ve acted very suspicious of my questions. They finally told me that they rarely used that bedroom during their summer visits, and they claim that they can’t remember who rented the carriage house. Since the closing on the carriage house is so soon, I don’t want to press harder and possibly jeopardize that. At this point, I’m completely stumped.”

  “Did you ever ask about having an expert look at the handwriting?” Stella asked.

  “I did, and John told me that it would probably be more complicated and costly than I’d be willing to pay. He gave me his expert’s phone number, who told me the same thing. Apparently, to get a full report, we’d have to hire a chemist to do ink-dating to see how old the paper and ink is; a linguist would be needed to analyze the language used; and then the handwriting guy could determine if it appeared to be naturally written or copied.”

  “My goodness,” said Peggy. “That does sound complicated.”

  “It is! The handwriting expert also told me that he wouldn’t be able to tell the age or gender of the writer. So, needless to say, I decided not to pursue that angle, even though it would be interesting.”

  “Ian and I looked through back issues of The Point, but didn’t find anything either,” Annie said. She felt the tips of her ears start to turn red, but was determined to ignore it. “But in the good news category, some other papers ran stories on our project, so maybe we’ll get even more blankets.”

  ****

  Fifteen minutes after the meeting had ended, all the Hook and Needle Club members but Alice and Gwen reassembled at A Stitch in Time. The note that Kate had given to everyone but Alice had read: “Alice closes on the carriage house soon. Let’s throw her a surprise party. Meet back here fifteen minutes after the meeting. Shhh!”

  “Whew! Thank you all for not spilling the beans!” Kate said after everyone was seated again. “Peggy, I especially worried about you saying something.”

  Peggy laughed. “I worried about that too. Didn’t you notice I spent most of the meeting with my head down? I thought my face alone might give it away!”

  “I’m so glad Gwen asked Alice to go to her house. It was a great way to make sure she doesn’t come back here,” Kate said. “OK, as we all know, Alice is closing on the carriage house sometime this month—right, Annie?”

  “Right. It depends on when they can coordinate with the Swanns’ bank. But when we talked to John, he hoped for the 20th of March.”

  “So I’m thinking we throw her a housewarming party on the last day of March, which just happens to fall on a Saturday. What do you guys think?” Kate asked.

  They all agreed it was an excellent idea. Kate volunteered Vanessa and Mackenzie to design invitations for the party. “I don’t know if they’ll get school credit for it, but I’m sure they’d love to do it.”

  “There is one problem,” Annie interjected. “We really can’t hold it at the carriage house—the downstairs is a disaster, what with moving everything out of the way so that Wally can get started renovating the upstairs. It would be weird to hold a housewarming party that’s not at her house, but I think she’d be really embarrassed to have everyone see it right now.”

  “What about having it at Maplehurst Inn?” Mary Beth asked. “Linda Hunter loves Alice. The inn has that library that’s perfect for parties, and I’m sure Linda w
ould be happy to have her staff cater. It should also be easy to get Alice there without letting her in on the secret. Annie, you could invite her to dinner to celebrate the closing, and we’d all be there, waiting.”

  “Maplehurst Inn would be perfect,” Stella said.

  “Oooh, that would be a great surprise!” Peggy exclaimed. “I’ll handle the food arrangements with Maplehurst; Jeff might be willing to supply some food as well.”

  “Another problem,” Kate said. “We’re too busy making blankets to create gifts for her.”

  “That’s true,” Peggy said. “I couldn’t possibly find the time to make anything else, and a store-bought gift would be a serious faux pas, especially from us.”

  “Well, trust me, as someone who just helped her get rid of a lot of stuff, Alice does not need anything else,” Annie said. “I have an idea. Remember when Alice mentioned that I had found the plans from when my grandparents had renovated the carriage house? Well, what do you all think about pitching in and having one of them framed? Some of them look really neat.”

  “I like that idea,” said Stella. “But didn’t you already give them to her? Wouldn’t she notice if they were missing?”

  Annie laughed. “Trust me, no. Not in the bedlam that is a major remodeling project. I guarantee you that I can spirit those plans away, and she’ll never notice.”

  “Wally mentioned he couldn’t believe the difference in the upstairs. When he came home after his first consult, he said he figured she’d never get it ready to start,” Peggy said.

  “She didn’t. We did,” Annie said with a laugh.

  “Well, sounds like we’ve got a plan,” Kate said. “Let me know what you all find out!”

  ****

  Kate had that Saturday off from work. She’d hoped that, in order to spend time with her daughter, Vanessa and Mackenzie would stay in and work on the invite for Alice’s housewarming party, but Vanessa had left before ten o’clock.