So—we shall see what we shall see!
—Grace
Chapter 5
VANESSA was leaning on the counter next to her cash register, writing her shopping list for Thurs day’s bake-a-thon, when it occurred to her that 252 guests times four cookies each equaled one hell of a lot of baking between now and Saturday. She picked up the phone and dialed Mia’s cell.
“I think we should start baking before Thursday,” she said when Mia picked up.
“Who is this and how did you get my number?” Mia asked calmly.
“I’m the person who’s trying to figure out how much lemon glaze we’re going to have to make to glaze all these damned cookies. And have you figured out how many cookies we’re talking about here?”
Before Mia had a chance to respond, Vanessa told her.
“One thousand and eight, that’s how many.”
“Divided by twelve equals … eighty-four dozen,” Mia told her. “So we take the recipe, which makes … let’s see, I think it was—”
“Five dozen. I have the recipe right in front of me.” Vanessa bit her bottom lip. “I don’t trust that to be right, though. It’s only five dozen if you make them exactly the same size as the person who wrote the recipe, and that never seems to work for me.”
“Want to make ninety dozen, just in case?”
There was a long silence, after which both women began to laugh.
“Sure. Ninety dozen! What the hell!” Vanessa tried to make light of the task. “What’s a few dozen more?”
“It won’t take any time at all with both of us baking.”
“Seriously, I think you’re grossly underestimating the amount of time we’re going to need. Today is Tuesday. I’m thinking maybe we start tomorrow and plan to keep on baking right up to the rehearsal dinner, after which we return to our respective kitchens.”
“Maybe we need to do this in teams,” Mia suggested.
“That might work if we could recruit a few more bakers. Can you think of anyone else who could be talked into pitching in?”
“I can probably get Dorsey to make some,” Mia thought aloud. “And my cousin Aidan’s wife, Mara. She loves to bake.”
“What about your friend Annie? Isn’t the matron of honor supposed to help the bride out with all the last-minute details?”
“Yeah, but she’s in New Mexico on a case. We’re holding our breath that she gets back in time to make it to the wedding. Otherwise, you’ll be bumped from bridesmaid to maid of honor.”
“We’ll worry about that on Saturday. Today you need to find out if Annie has a kitchenette in her hotel room. We need all the help we can get.”
“We’ll be okay. I’ll just ask Dorsey and Mara. Between the four of us, we should be fine.”
“Maybe. That breaks it down to”—she tried to mentally compute—“roughly twenty-two dozen cookies each, give or take a dozen or so. And this is going to take a lot of flour, sugar, and butter. I think I’ll call over to the Market Basket while I’m thinking of it to see if I need to make a special order. I doubt they have this much butter on hand.”
“Right about now is when you get to say, ‘You should have gone with the truffles.’ “Mia sighed. “I guess this wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Of course it’s a great idea. You wanted to honor your mother’s memory and we’re going to do exactly that. I just thought I should point out that we should not wait until Thursday to start, and that we were severely understaffed.”
“If we start baking on Wednesday, they’ll be stale by Saturday.”
“No, they won’t. We’ll freeze them and put the glaze on them all on Friday. They’ll be fine.”
“According to the schedule you made up, on Friday we’re supposed to put them in boxes and tie on those pretty ribbons.”
“So we nudge the schedule a little,” Vanessa said to assure herself as much as she assured Mia. “We’ll get them into their little boxes and we’ll get the ribbons tied on and everything will be fine.”
The bell over Bling’s door rang and Vanessa looked up as a woman closed the door behind her.
“I’ll check with Ken at the market and get back to you if there’s a problem. Meantime, think about maybe three cookies per guest. That would eliminate about twenty dozen cookies if my seat-of-the-pants math is right. Gotta run …”
She hung up the phone and replaced the receiver, then moved the phone to one side of the cash register. She smiled at the potential customer.
“Welcome to Bling. May I help you find something, or are you just poking?”
“Just poking,” the woman replied.
“Poke away,” Vanessa told her cheerfully. “Let me know if there’s something you’d like to try on, or if there’s something from one of the cases you’d like a better look at.”
The woman smiled tentatively.
Vanessa watched the customer without appearing to, appraising her unconsciously. The woman appeared to be in her early thirties, her hair colored light brown but not done well. Vanessa suspected that the woman had done her color herself but wasn’t very skilled at it. Her makeup was a little heavier than what she normally saw on the weekday tourists, who tended to be very conservative in their dress and appearance. This woman wore a long sleeved T-shirt with a mock turtleneck, long pants just a hair too tight, and faux-leather shoes that were far from new and probably rubbed her feet uncomfortably. She carried an out-of-season straw bag, and her unpolished fingernails were chewed to the quick. There was an air of hesitancy about her, as if she had just realized that she’d entered a shop where she couldn’t afford to buy anything. Vanessa was no stranger to that sort of uncertainty because she’d felt it so many times before in her old life.
And, she reminded herself, there’d been more than one time in my life when I’d worn shoes very much like hers. I’ll bet hers are just as uncomfortable as mine were.
Vanessa didn’t have to look at her own hands to know that these days, her nails were buffed and polished and kept pretty with a once-a-week appointment with a manicurist, but once upon a time, the sheer stress of her life had caused her to bite her nails down to nothing, and she’d never had time for polish.
The woman walked around the shop, her eyes darting from one item to another, but her fingers never reached out to touch any of the lovely items on display. In the way she hung her head and the wariness in her eyes, Vanessa recognized something else of the woman she herself had been, once upon a time. She’d have bet her entire week’s receipts that if she pulled up the sleeves of the woman’s shirt, she’d find the imprint of angry fingers bruised into her upper arms.
“It’s a gorgeous day, isn’t it?” Vanessa said, hoping to put the woman at ease. “I think spring is finally with us for real.”
“Yes. It’s real nice out.”
“Those shorts on the rack right next to you are on sale,” Vanessa pointed out.
The woman paused to look through them. She stopped at a pair of madras plaid, glanced at the price tag, then pretended that she hadn’t blanched when she read the number.
“Are you touristing today?” Vanessa asked.
“What?” The woman frowned. “Oh. Yeah. I’m just here for the day.”
“Where are you from?”
“Oh. Um … Baltimore.” The woman averted her eyes.
“What brought you to St. Dennis?” Vanessa persisted.
“I … I heard it was a pretty town, so I decided to take the day and check it out.”
“You heard right. It’s a beautiful town. One of the nicest on the Bay.” Vanessa rested an elbow on the counter and her chin in her hand. “What have you seen so far?”
“Oh, not so much yet. I saw the place down there where all the boats are parked.” She waved in the general direction of the Bay. “Down near the parking lot.”
“Oh, the marina. It’s always fun to walk along the dock there and look at the boats. Where else have you been?”
“I had coffee across the street.”
&
nbsp; “Good choice. I have coffee there every morning.”
“You do?”
Vanessa nodded, wondering why that tidbit would seem interesting. “I’m afraid I’m terribly lazy. I fall into a routine and I just stick with it.”
The woman, who’d turned her attention to a pile of lightweight summer sweaters, nodded vaguely.
“Is there any particular place you want to see while you’re here?” Vanessa tried to keep her customer engaged.
“Oh …” She appeared to think it over, then returned her attention to the sweaters. “Not really. I was just passing by and saw your window displays and thought your shop looked really cool.”
“Thank you.” Vanessa looked around at the little world she’d made for herself. “I think it’s pretty cool.”
The woman walked around the shop for a few more minutes before lingering over a summer party dress of white eyelet.
“Would you like to try that on?” Vanessa asked.
“Oh. I …” the woman stammered. “I don’t think …”
“Do I have your size?” Vanessa came out from around the counter and walked toward the woman, who watched her with some curiosity. “You look as if you’re … what, a size ten?”
She flipped through the hangers with ease.
“You’re in luck. One size ten left. Here you go.” She handed the hanger to the woman and pointed off to the right. “The dressing room’s right through that door. If you love it, maybe I could take a little off the price, since it’s your first time in St. Dennis.”
“That would be really nice,” the woman replied, but made no move toward the dressing room.
“Did you want to look around a little more first?”
“Oh, no. No, I’ll just take this in …” The customer backed toward the dressing room.
“Take your time.”
Vanessa strolled over to a stack of khaki shorts and straightened out the pile, then refolded some cotton T-shirts.
“How are you doing?” she called to the dressing room.
“All right.”
“Does the dress fit?”
“Yes. It fits just right.” She hesitated before adding, “It sure is pretty.”
A few moments passed before the woman emerged from the dressing room with the dress on the hanger.
“What did you think?” Vanessa asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” the woman told her. “Maybe I’ll come back with my husband and see what he thinks.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Vanessa assured her. “Would you like me to put a hold on it for you? Just in case?”
“Oh, I don’t know …”
“It’s not a problem. There’s absolutely no obligation. But if you decided you wanted it, I’d hate to see you disappointed if you came back and found it had been sold. What’s your name? I can hold it as long as the weekend. We start to get real busy on Fridays now that the weather is getting warmer. But I’d be happy to hold it until then for you.” Vanessa took the hanger and hung the dress on a stand near the counter. “What’s your first name?”
“It’s Candy. Candice.”
“Candice, it is.” Vanessa wrote on a piece of paper, which she then attached to the hanger with a straight pin. “Hold till Friday for Candice,” she read the note aloud.
“Thank you,” the woman said softly.
“My pleasure.” Vanessa reached for the little porcelain dish near the cash register that held a stack of business cards. “Take one, in case you need to call.”
The woman picked up a card and appeared to study it.
“If you don’t call or stop in by noon on Friday, it’ll go back onto the floor. And if you decide you’d like it, I’ll take off twenty percent.”
“That’s real nice of you.”
She appeared about to say something else when the door opened and Steffie came in, grinning and looking like she had a tale to tell.
“It’ll be in the back room if you come back. If I’m not here, just tell whoever is that Vanessa put a dress in the back for you.”
“So you’re Vanessa,” the woman said softly.
“Yes. But anyone can get it for you if I’m not here.” Vanessa smiled as she walked toward the back room, the dress over her arm. “My brother’s getting married this weekend, so I’ll be in and out for the next few days.”
“Oh. Will the wedding be in St. Dennis?”
“Will it ever.” Steffie answered for Vanessa, who’d disappeared into the back of the store. “Ness’s brother is the chief of police and he knows everyone in town.”
“The police chief?” Candice repeated.
“Yeah, and the woman he’s marrying is a county criminal investigator, and all her brothers and cousins are FBI agents. God forbid anyone should think about committing a crime in St. Dennis over the weekend.”
“God forbid,” the woman agreed as Vanessa came back out to the shop floor. “Well, thank you for letting me try on the dress.”
“Of course. Come back anytime.” Vanessa walked her to the door and held it open for Candice to pass through. She waved good-bye from the door and closed it behind her.
“What a slow day,” Vanessa complained to Steffie. “That was it as far as customers go.”
Steffie glanced at her watch. “It’s early yet. It’s a nice, warm sunny morning. By two this afternoon, the sidewalks will be packed.”
“So what’s put that shit-eating grin on your face this morning?”
“Guess who I had coffee with while you were trying to make your first sale of the day?”
“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”
“Mountain Man.”
“Oh, Grady?” Vanessa tried to appear disinterested. “Where’d you run into him?”
“Across the street at Cuppachino. He was there with Beck and the other brother who’s going to be in the wedding and his wife.”
“Andy. Dorsey is his wife.”
“Right. And I’m here to tell you, the man is not all that dull.”
“Really? Couldn’t prove it by me.” Vanessa refolded a stack of T-shirts. “I met him at Hal’s party the other night. I wasn’t impressed.”
“You lie.”
“No, seriously. I wasn’t at all …”
Steffie started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Vanessa raised an indignant eyebrow.
“Did you know that when you try to tell a lie, your eyes shift to one side?”
“You’ve been watching too much TV,” Vanessa grumbled.
“Seriously, Ness.” Still grinning, Steffie rested her el bows on the counter. “How could you not be impressed? He’s good-looking, articulate, smart, interesting—”
“You got all that over one cup of coffee?”
“And a cheese Danish.”
“A Danish?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the water diet you were on a few days ago?”
“This was a special occasion.”
“Well, since you so obviously think this guy’s got it all, I say go for it.”
“Thanks, but he’s not my type.”
“Stef, you just finished telling me that he’s—”
“He’s all those things I said. He’s a really nice guy. But …” Steffie shrugged. “No spark. Know what I mean?”
Vanessa stared at Steffie. “I’m … speechless.”
“I know.” Steffie grinned. “I could hardly believe it myself. But you know how I always know the minute I meet a guy if there’s ever going to be something there or not?”
Intrigued, Vanessa nodded.
“Well … nothing.” Steffie held up both hands. “Nada. Zilch.”
“Wow. Who’d have guessed it?” Vanessa’s eyes began to twinkle. “The first really hot single guy to hit St. Dennis since I moved here, and Steffie isn’t feeling the love. I guess stranger things have happened. Perhaps not in my lifetime, but still …”
“There is an explanation.”
“Do tell.”
Steffie leaned over the coun
ter. “I heard that Beck invited Wade MacGregor to the wedding and that he’s coming in on Friday. And that he isn’t bringing a date.”
“I saw the name on the guest list, but I don’t know who he is.”
“He’s a guy who used to pal around with my brother. He and Beck used to sail together.”
“Just a guy?”
“Just the guy. As in, the guy I wrote about in my diary. The guy I walked three blocks out of my way every day just to go by his house. The guy who broke my heart when he took Krista Blackwell to the prom junior year.”
“How about senior year?”
“I don’t remember who he took his senior year, but my senior year, I wanted to ask him but my mom wouldn’t let me.”
“Why not?”
“Because she thought he was too old for me.”
“How much older?”
“Like, four years.”
“That’s a lot when you’re in high school, Stef. He’d have been in college already.”
“He was. I invited him to my graduation party, and he came and brought me flowers.” Steffie’s eyes took on a dreamy look. “I made him kiss me out back near the grape arbor.”
“What happened next?”
“You mean after the kiss that set the standard for the entire rest of my life and has never been duplicated?” Stef made a face. “He was outta there so fast I barely even saw him leave. Left me brokenhearted. Never wrote, never called.”
“So you would want to see him again … why?”
“I guess just to see what I missed.”
“Uh-uh. Wrong answer.”
“There’s a right answer?” Steffie frowned.
“Yes. The correct response would have been, ‘So that he can see what he missed.’”
“Well, that goes without saying.” Steffie fluffed up her long blond hair.
“So where’s he been all these years?”
“I don’t know. No one ever really seems to talk about him. Everyone talks about his sister, of course. His sister is … wait for it now.” Steffie paused dramatically. “Dallas MacGregor.”
“Dallas MacGregor, the movie star?” Vanessa’s eyes widened. “I did hear that she was a local.”
The Chesapeake Diaries: Coming Home Page 6