“I really don’t think this is—” As the music interrupted, Olivia shot an alarmed glance at her mother.
Raoul held out his hand to Ellie, who took it and allowed herself to be escorted again to the dance floor. She rested her right hand on Raoul’s upper arm as he reached his left hand to her shoulder blade. Olivia sneaked a peek at Allan’s scowling face. She sympathized. Over Ellie’s head, Raoul called across the floor, “Watch our feet, the steps are quite simple. Think of a square.”
To Olivia, the square image lasted about twenty seconds. After that, the steps made no sense at all. If there was a pattern to them, she couldn’t see it. Ellie and Raoul’s dancing feet seemed to be going everywhere at once, and the hip movements became, to say the least, distracting.
When the dance ended, Raoul turned to Olivia and Allan. “There, you see? One makes a square, with small departures. Slow, quick-quick, slow. It is simple.” With a tight, closed-lip smile, he held out his hand to Allan, who shrank back against the wall. With an elegant shrug, Raoul turned to Olivia and captured her hand. She felt her heart sink to about knee level.
Ellie took one look at her daughter’s face and said, “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot that you need to repeat the steps slowly several times before they make sense to you. I’m afraid you inherited that from your dear father.”
“Ah,” said Raoul. “I shall teach you slowly.”
Ellie slid between them. “That is so perceptive of you, Raoul, but first, perhaps I could try? It would be such good practice for me.” Ellie grabbed Olivia’s hand and dragged her toward the far end of the dance floor. As Raoul started to follow, she said, “No, no, you gentlemen take a break. We won’t be a minute.” Ellie slipped into the office and reappeared as the rumba music began again. She led Olivia to a dimly lit corner and said, “I know you hate this, Livie, and so does Allan, so I regretfully release my dream of having a twinkle-toed family. I shall orchestrate your escape. But first I thought we could talk more easily over here, away from the pressure. Raoul is so forceful.”
Olivia glanced back across the room, where her stepfather and Raoul stood several feet apart, arms crossed over chests, watching them. “But poor Allan is alone with Raoul.” Turning back to her mother, she asked, “Don’t you find Raoul rather intimidating?”
“Not at all, dear. Besides, Allan is more than capable of taking care of himself. By the time we finish, he will probably know all there is to know about the financial aspects of Raoul’s dancing career. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?” She took Olivia’s left hand and placed it against her upper arm. “Now Livie, you may ask your questions, but pay attention, as well. If I’m to give up the remainder of my dance lesson, at least I can have the satisfaction of teaching you a few steps. Now, start with your right foot and step backward. No, sweetie, your other right. That’s it, but slower. Make it sultry. Next, two quick steps.... Now what else did you want to know about the Critches?”
Distracted and struggling to avoid a collision, Olivia stared down at her feet and watched as they completed a square—more or less, if she didn’t count her false steps. So that’s what Raoul meant by thinking about a square. Olivia relaxed a bit and remembered one of the questions she’d wanted to ask about the intruder in The Vegetable Plate. “Um . . . about the man who broke into Charlene’s store,” she said. “Could he be someone from Charlene’s past? Her ex-husband, maybe?”
When her mother didn’t launch into a convoluted story, Olivia glanced up at her face. Ellie’s knitted eyebrows indicated thought. Olivia lost track of her feet and zigzagged right into her mother’s undulating hip. Ellie didn’t miss a step. With gentle pressure, she guided Olivia into position and hesitated a moment as her daughter stumbled back into rhythm.
“I might be thinking of someone else altogether,” Ellie said, unruffled by the mishap. “But I do think that Charlene’s brief, unfortunate marriage was a while back, at least seven or eight years, because I remember thinking how lucky your father and I were that we’d managed to stay happy despite how young we were when we married. I was only nineteen, and your father was twenty. Of course, we’d already lived together for a year at the commune.”
“Too much information, Mom.”
“Oops, I feel a spin coming on,” Ellie said. Olivia jumped out of the way in time to avoid being whacked as her mother flung her arm out.
“I do love those spins,” Ellie said. “Now where was I? Charles Sr. was the key, I think. You will have noticed that both children were named after their father? Arrogance, pure arrogance. Charles Sr. was a plastic surgeon, wildly successful, made piles of money. That’s why they moved to DC. They bought a mansion, I heard, joined all the right clubs, put their children in private schools. Those poor young dears.”
As the intensity of the music built, Olivia knew she was running out of time, but she decided not to interrupt. Her mother’s stories nearly always yielded helpful information and insights. Eventually.
“They became reflections of their parents’ worth, you see,” Ellie said. “They had to look perfect and excel at everything. I remember hearing that Charles suggested Charlene have plastic surgery when she was still a teenager. And little Charlie, he became quite a problem. I believe he was thrown out of more than one private school.”
Olivia decided to keep Charlie on her suspect list for the time being.
Ellie executed a final twirl out and back as the music ended. “Wasn’t that fun?” Her cheeks had pinked up, but her breathing seemed normal.
“Mom, I really am sorry I used up your lesson. Allan said Raoul will be leaving soon.”
“Don’t worry, dear. I haven’t broken it to Allan yet—he’s feeling a bit overshadowed, you know—but Raoul told me during our dance that he likes Chatterley Heights so much, he has decided to stay indefinitely. Isn’t that lovely? Now, about Charlene’s marriage,” she said. “I don’t know the details, but I remember hearing that she married what they call a ‘bad boy,’ which isn’t surprising when you think about it. I believe she was still in high school in DC when they eloped. Charles hired someone to track them down, or so I heard. I don’t know exactly what happened then, but I assume the marriage was unhappy, since I remember hearing about an annulment. Poor Jason has never forgiven himself.” Ellie flipped her hair over her head and fluffed it with her fingers.
“Jason? What does Jason have to do with it?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? Jason is the one who introduced Charlene to the boy. After your father died, Jason felt so lost. Oh, I know you missed him, too, but you went off to college, and Jason sort of floated for a couple of years, keeping so much inside. Then I met Allan, and it all got worse. Jason was a senior by then. His grades began to slide, he didn’t want to go to college, and he started skipping school to hang around with a group of dropouts. At the moment, I’m afraid I don’t remember anything about them, including their names. Jason was secretive during that time. I’m sorry, Livie, I wish I knew more details. Only I suspect that the man Charlene married turned out to have a nasty side.”
Chapter Five
A sudden piercing noise awakened Olivia from a deep sleep. When the sound repeated twice and went to voice mail, she finally recognized the opening bars of “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones. Not Olivia’s favorite. It crossed her foggy mind that her mother, who danced to that song, might have reprogrammed the cell phone ring tone. But no, messing with ring tones was Maddie’s specialty. Olivia decided it wasn’t worth opening her eyes.
Before she could drift off again, Olivia heard voices murmuring nearby and felt a weight land on her stomach. The voices turned out to be the television turned on low. The weight on her stomach began to wiggle. She finally opened her eyes when Spunky licked her face.
It had been a long day. Trying to learn the rumba and talk at the same time had taken a surprising amount of energy. Olivia had fallen asleep on her living room sofa, lulled by the cooking channel. While she debated checking her voice mail or going straight to bed, Mic
k Jagger complained again about the absence of satisfaction in his life. Olivia answered just to make it stop.
“Livie, you have got to see this.”
Olivia made a guttural sound in her throat.
“I’m serious, Livie, you need to wake up and look out your living room window. I know you’re there; the light is on. So drag yourself over to that window and check out what’s going on in the town square.”
“Why?”
Maddie ignored the irritation in Olivia’s voice. “Come on. I’m afraid it will disappear any minute. It’s . . . it’s amazing. Enchanting. Fantastical. Please, go to the window now. Oh, and turn the lights off. And bring your cell.”
Spunky jumped off Olivia’s chest and trotted to the front window, as if Maddie had communicated with him telepathically. By then, Olivia was awake enough for curiosity to overtake crankiness. She slid off the sofa, switched off the light, and joined Spunky at the window.
“Come on, Spunks,” Olivia whispered. “Let’s see what Aunt Maddie has cooked up for us this time. It had better be worth losing sleep over.”
“I heard that.” Maddie’s voice crackled from the forgotten cell phone in Olivia’s hand. “Talk to me.”
Olivia pulled aside the edge of the damask curtain covering her front window, while Spunky jumped on top of the small Queen Anne–style desk centered under the windowsill. “Okay, we’re looking out on the park,” Olivia said into her cell. “What’s so amazing? All I see are sleeping stores, moonlight on the rump of Fred P. Chatterley’s horse, about half of the band shell in lamplight, and—Oh. . . . What on earth . . . ?” Olivia pressed her nose against the glass. She’d caught a glimpse of shimmery movement near the band shell, but now the park looked deserted.
“Wait for it,” Maddie said, her voice hushed with excitement. “There, see it? Right in front of the band shell.”
Whimpering softly, Spunky stood on his hind legs. His nails made a clicking sound as he steadied his front paws against the windowpane. Olivia placed her head next to his and looked in the same direction. She saw what looked like a curl of fog, almost ghostlike, an apparition. Which, of course, Olivia didn’t believe in. Except maybe in the middle of the night.
“Isn’t she amazing?” Maddie said. “It has to be a ‘she,’ don’t you think? It doesn’t look like the way a man would dance.”
“Dance?” Olivia readjusted her mental context and sure enough, she saw a slender, sylph-like creature twirling in the moonlight. She seemed to be wearing a diaphanous white midlength gown with a flowing white cape that swirled around her shoulders as she pirouetted. A curved arm swooped over the dancer’s head as she leaped into the air with a smooth grace Olivia could only dream of possessing. “Are those ballet steps?”
“Livie, my friend, you need to get out more. Of course those are ballet steps, and I’d be willing to bet my new silicone baking mats she has trained professionally. Who on earth could she be? I don’t recall Chatterley Heights producing anyone so skilled. She could be a beginning ballerina practicing for her first appearance. Wouldn’t that be exciting? I wish I could get a closer look at her. She seems tiny, but I can’t tell from this distance. I suppose she could be very young.”
Olivia said, “I remember my friend Stacey saying her daughter has been studying ballet at some school in DC. Maybe she sneaked out of the house to practice.” Her excitement waning, Olivia yawned. “We need to get back to bed.”
Maddie’s laugh was loud enough to distract Spunky for a moment. “That isn’t Rachel Harald,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. Rachel is bigger, and besides, I’ve seen her efforts. I went to her first-year recital last spring, just to relive the dancing days of my youth.” Maddie made a clicking sound that Olivia recognized as frustrated curiosity. “I’m going to sneak around behind stores and see if I can get a peek at her. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to concentrate again.”
“Maddie, it’s the middle of the night. Please go home and get some sleep.”
“Already slept,” Maddie said. “I’ll keep the phone on, and you tell me if she moves to another location.”
“Maddie, I’m tired. I—”
“Okay, I’m behind the hardware. Bless Lucas for leaving a back light on. Now I’m in back of Fred’s.” Like most town residents, Maddie shortened the full name of the men’s clothing store Frederick’s of Chatterley. “Once I get to the other side of the bookstore, I think I’ll be close enough to the band shell to see her. Is she still there?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m past Book Chat. I can see her,” Maddie whispered into her cell. “But I can’t see her face. It’s too dark, and she seems to be avoiding the lamplight. She looks small and very slender, almost like a pre-teen girl. It’s funny, though. . . .”
Now Olivia was hooked. “What?”
“Her hair,” Maddie said. “It’s long, nearly to her waist. And it looks pure white.”
“Maybe that’s why I thought she was wearing a cape,” Olivia said. “So she must be quite a bit older than we thought.”
“If only if I could see her face,” Maddie said. “She’s wearing something over her head, sort of a sack thing. She must be able to see through it, so it might be the same filmy fabric as her dress. Maybe it’s a costume.” Maddie sighed into her cell. “I’m losing her; she’s dancing into the shadows, away from the band shell. I guess I’ll have to try again another night. Anyway, I’m heading back to the store now, so you can run along to bed. And take that furry creature with you.”
Olivia gathered Spunky under one arm. “Okay, see you tomorrow. You can open, as penance for waking me up.” In the middle of a yawn, her brain registered Maddie’s words. “Wait, why are you coming back here? I refuse to stay up the rest of the night speculating with you about the identity of the mysterious ballerina in white.”
“Not to worry,” Maddie said, sounding far too alert. “I’ve got some baking to do, but I will be silence itself. And I can open the store, no problem.”
“What baking?”
“Oh, you know, a bit of this and that to fill out the display.”
“What display?”
“I thought you were exhausted.”
“What display, Maddie?”
“For our spontaneous morning event, the one we talked about.”
“We never talked about a spontaneous morning event. I’d remember. I’m not that sleepy.”
“Didn’t we? I guess I thought about it so much, I was sure I’d mentioned it. No problem, I’ve got the whole thing under control. You don’t have to do a thing, just sleep in a bit and show up whenever.”
Olivia was about to press the point, but she asked herself, did she really want to know? Spunky had gone limp against her chest, and she’d had enough excitement for one night. Maddie’s ideas could be on the wild side, but she was, for the most part, a sensible businesswoman. Maddie had learned a lot in the year or so they’d operated The Gingerbread House together, and she’d been wanting to plan an event entirely on her own. Besides, if you couldn’t trust your best friend and business partner, who could you trust?
Chapter Six
Olivia placed a tray of iced vegetables—the decorated sugar cookie kind—on a display table in the cookbook nook. The nook was once a formal dining room for the succession of families who had owned the Queen Anne home before it became The Gingerbread House. In the dignified room, with its crystal chandelier and built-in walnut hutch with leaded glass doors, Maddie’s whimsical creations made quite a statement . . . like flashing neon lights in a medieval cathedral.
Olivia felt anxiety creep up her spine. The same worry had awakened her early that morning and sent her downstairs to the store well before opening. When she had seen Maddie cutting and baking cookies in vegetable shapes the previous day, Olivia was puzzled but not concerned. Even when Maddie returned to The Gingerbread House in the wee hours because she “had some baking to do,” and then insisted to Olivia that the tw
o of them had agreed to host a “spontaneous morning event”—which Olivia was certain they’d never discussed—even then, she’d taken Maddie at her word. However, Olivia bolted awake before her alarm, one phrase of Maddie’s ringing in her head: “I’ve got the whole thing under control.” What “whole thing,” and why might it go out of control in the first place?
Olivia pondered the plate of cookies in front of her, with their wildly colored designs, and she knew the answers to her questions. Maddie was angry with Charlene Critch and convinced she had littered their store’s lawn with anti-sugar propaganda. All the cookies Maddie had prepared for their morning event represented fruits and vegetables. Charlene worshipped fruits and vegetables, and she despised sugar. However, decorated cookies are made with sugar. Lots of it. Charlene was sure to hear about the event and unlikely to be amused by the irony.
An electric blue cookie shaped like an eggplant and decorated with a hot pink smiley face grinned at Olivia from the top of a pyramid. She plucked it off. After glancing around to be sure Maddie wasn’t watching, Olivia exchanged it for a cookie from the middle of the stack, a sedate apple shape, mint green with a baby yellow stem. The eggplant’s bright skin peeked out, but at least she’d hidden that gruesome face.
Olivia started at a clumping sound behind her and turned to see Maddie in full costume. Her laced-up leather boots explained her noisy entrance into the room. Maddie had decided on a farmer theme for her event persona. It was Tuesday, not a day the store’s customers normally expected themed cookie events, but Maddie had given her imagination full rein. She wore red denim cutoffs that skimmed her curvy hips. The bottoms frayed up a good two inches to reveal flashes of thigh. Maddie had wrestled her curly red hair into puffy pigtails and plunked a straw hat on top. A tight white T-shirt and red suspenders completed the ensemble.
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