Lucas’s shoulders slumped as his spent anger turned to dejection. “Some of the guys I recruited for the project, they were working for free, even though they needed to be out looking for paying jobs. They were all counting on me to get some new business out of this. They’ve got skills; I could have put them to work.”
Maddie’s arm wrapped around his waist as she leaned into him. “It’s not your fault, honey. None of this is your fault.” She caught Olivia’s eye and mouthed the word “cookies.”
Olivia nodded her understanding. She and Maddie believed in the power of decorated cookies to smooth social relations and sooth an aching heart, so they always kept a small stash ready for any such contingency. Olivia slid a tin off the top of the refrigerator and opened it. Inside were a dozen cookies, carefully stacked. She could feel the tension in the kitchen ease at once.
While Ellie handed out cups of coffee, Olivia arranged the cookies on a large plate and passed it to Maddie, who selected two heart-shaped cookies with marbled pink and red icing. Lucas attempted a faint smile as Maddie aimed one of the cookies toward his mouth.
The kitchen door opened, and Olivia saw Sam Parnell’s hawklike face appear. Not a welcome sight. Sam was a Chatterley Heights postal carrier with a fondness for gossip, and he wasn’t particular about accuracy. Hence his nickname, Snoopy.
“I’ve got this overnight priority package for you,” Sam said to Olivia. “I figured it might be important for the celebration, so I brought it right on over. That clerk of yours, Bertha, she’s real busy. I noticed she’s all alone out there.” When no one reacted to his barb, he slid through the kitchen door and shut it behind him. “Anyway, she said you were all back here.”
As always, Sam wore his United States Postal Service uniform, complete with hat, but he wasn’t carrying his mail bag. Olivia suspected he’d seen The Gingerbread House address on the package and made a beeline for the store, hoping for a free cookie and a chance to check up on her and Maddie. A few weeks earlier, Sam had hand delivered a package and found Olivia chatting with Del in the kitchen. For days afterward, folks dropped by the store only to ask Olivia when she and Del planned to “share their big news.” Binnie Sloan had come right out and announced in The Weekly Chatter that Olivia and Del were engaged. Which they absolutely were not.
Sam’s glance fell on the plate of cookies, now in Ellie’s hands. “Looks like you’re having yourselves a little party. Starting the celebration a bit early, are you?”
“Not at all,” Olivia said a shade too hastily. She could see the glint in Sam’s eyes. “We’re taking a break from our preparations for the big weekend. It’s a lot of hard work in not much time. Thanks for the delivery; we do need these items for Saturday’s opening ceremony.” She took the package from Sam’s hands and left it on the kitchen counter, unopened.
“I heard you got a visit from Paine Chatterley and that wife of his last evening,” Sam said. “He doesn’t look so good, does he? Maybe he came home to die.”
“I don’t think he’s—” Maddie’s cheeks flushed as she realized she’d fallen for Sam’s exploratory gambit. “I mean, are they receiving mail so soon?”
“They got a package already. From London, England. I thought I’d hand deliver it. I always like to meet new folks on my route,” Sam said. “I was glad to see they didn’t bring along a dog.” He shot a glance at Olivia. Getting no reaction, he said, “Mr. Chatterley looked like he just got out of bed when I saw him. Must have tied one on last night. I heard he was quite a teenage drinker back when he lived here, so I figure he kept it up in Europe. They drink all the time over there.” Again, Sam’s contribution was met with stony silence. “Well, I can’t hang around and chat,” he said without moving. “I’m on duty.”
Ellie bestowed a beneficent smile on Sam and held the plate out to him. “Do take a cookie with you, Sam.”
“I don’t know, what with my diabetes and all,” Sam said as he scooped up two cookies. Without so much as a murmur of admiration, he tore off a paper towel, wrapped the cookies, and shoved them into his uniform jacket pocket.
Olivia unlocked the alley door and held it open for Sam, who exited in silence. She knew he’d be back, angling for gossip, but it didn’t bother her much anymore. She was learning how to handle him. Sometimes she could get more information from Sam than he could wheedle out of her. Whether any of it was true was another matter. She wondered…was Paine seriously ill or perhaps a heavy drinker, as Sam had implied? Either might explain his inconsistent behavior and desire to be left alone.
As Olivia relocked the alley door, the kitchen phone rang. Maddie answered and said, “Let me see if she’s able to come to the phone.” Holding her hand over the receiver, Maddie whispered, “Livie, it’s Karen. She sounds frantic. Should I tell her I don’t know where you are?”
“Tempting, but no, I’ll handle it.” Olivia took the phone. “Yes, Karen, what is it?” She heard the brusqueness in her own voice and tried to soften it. “Is anything wrong?”
“Is anything wrong? Are you kidding me? Everything is wrong. The entire celebration is hanging by a thread. Now I hear that Lucas Ashford has stopped work on the mansion, without so much as a word to me. Even the mansion’s exterior won’t be finished by Saturday. At least Matthew agreed to keep working, but he only does that Victorian gingerbread trim. If Paine thinks he’s going to get away with—”
“Matthew Fabrizio is still working on the mansion?” Too late, Olivia remembered Lucas was in the kitchen. She watched his features harden and tried to shift the direction of the conversation. “Karen, you know Lucas and his team have all been volunteering their labor, and Lucas donated supplies. It’s unfair to expect them to keep working when the mansion is now off-limits to the public. After all, Lucas is busy, he has Heights Hardware to operate.”
“I’m tired of hearing about stores that have to be run. It’s just a store, for goodness sakes, it can survive another day or two. I’ll be a laughingstock if we can’t even finish a paint job in time for such an important event.” Karen’s normally alto voice was scaling up into a panicky soprano range.
“Karen, none of this is a personal reflection on you.” Olivia couldn’t help rolling her eyes at Maddie, who shook her head in disgust. A flush spread up from Lucas’s neck, while Ellie smiled benignly at nothing in particular.
“Not personal? Are you completely clueless? This celebration is my baby. It was my idea, I planned it, and if anything goes wrong…well, nothing can go wrong, that’s all there is to it. You must get the Chatterleys to understand that if they intend to live in this town, they’d better learn to cooperate with us. I have a long memory.”
Olivia felt increasingly confused and uneasy about Karen’s emotional investment in what was essentially a birthday party for Chatterley Heights. “Karen, I think it might be helpful if you’d step back for a few moments. If we can’t bring visitors into the Chatterley Mansion, it won’t ruin the celebration. We do have photos of the mansion, and of course we have all the gingerbread houses, and—”
“You just don’t get it!” As Karen shouted into the receiver, Olivia held the phone away from her ear. Everyone in the kitchen heard the outburst. Karen lowered her voice and said, “Okay, we got off on the wrong foot. I should have explained to you that the press will be there, at the mansion, this Friday morning. Not just reporters from the little weeklies, either. Binnie got them interested, which was easy, but then she dropped the ball, so I convinced the big DC and Baltimore papers to come. I promised they could get pictures of the mansion, inside and out. Maybe even a quote or two from Paine Chatterley, if he’s sober enough. I’ll meet them in front of the mansion and give a statement about our celebration and our history and…so forth.”
“That’s great,” Olivia said, forcing a show of enthusiasm, “and I’m sure you’ll handle it beautifully.” She figured it was useless to mention that Paine had asked—more like demanded—that the sheriff keep the block clear of gawkers. “I really think the reporters
will understand when you explain the mansion is again a private residence and that—” Olivia heard a sharp intake of breath and knew she was in for another explosion.
Ellie tapped on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Shall I give it a try?” Olivia held her hand over the mouthpiece as Ellie added, “Karen and I often run together. She can easily outpace me, so she feels a certain benevolence toward me.”
Olivia mouthed a heartfelt “yes” and handed the phone to her mother.
Using her patient-parent voice, Ellie said, “Hello, Karen dear, it’s Ellie. Olivia has been summoned to resolve a store crisis, so I offered to help you with your dilemma.”
Olivia sank onto a kitchen chair. Maddie reached for the plate of cookies and brought it to her. “This should be both interesting and instructive,” Maddie whispered. “Perhaps even amusing.”
“Yes, dear,” Ellie said into the phone, “I most certainly do understand how important this is to you. And for your future.” She paused for Karen’s reply before saying, “Oh, I don’t think it would completely destroy your chances, but I can see that if this celebration goes well, it will showcase your considerable leadership skills and administrative talents.”
While Ellie listened to the mayor, Olivia nibbled on a shortbread cookie in a butterfly shape with pink and lavender wings. The cookie worked its calming magic on her. She ought to go out to the sales floor and help Bertha, but she felt glued to her seat. So, apparently, did Maddie and Lucas, both of whom hung on Ellie’s side of the phone conversation.
“Yes, I see the reasoning in everything you’ve argued,” Ellie said. “I was thinking, though.… Perhaps I might throw out another strategy, simply for you to think about? I’ve always been most impressed by congresspersons who project a calm presence and are skilled negotiators. Of course, anyone of average ability can negotiate successfully with a reasonable opponent, but…Yes, I agree completely. An angry, obdurate opponent is more of a challenge. Only a truly gifted leader should even try to negotiate with someone like that.”
Olivia was fairly sure she was being insulted. If it got her out of another visit to Chatterley Mansion, though, she’d take it with good grace.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Ellie said, “although I wonder about…but of course you were only joking about that. You’d never do such a thing. I wish you every success, Karen dear. Do let me know how it goes.” Ellie hung up and beamed at her rapt audience. “Karen intends to speak with Paine herself,” she said, “and I need a cookie.”
“You deserve one.” Olivia passed her mother the last cookie on the plate, a yellow and blue winged butterfly. Ellie took a bite and moaned with pleasure.
“Mom? What was the thing you said Karen would never do?”
“Oh nothing, I’m sure. Karen was feeling feisty, which is a good thing. Within reason, of course. It was a show of bravado, that’s all.”
“What was a show of bravado?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, you know how it is. Karen was simply expressing her frustration. She said she’d get Paine Chatterley out of her way even if she had to strangle him.”
Chapter Four
Spunky insisted on a walk in the cool of dusk, and Olivia allowed herself to be persuaded. After a steamy summer, it felt good to need an extra layer of clothing. She considered leaving her cell phone at home, fearing she could expect another frantic, demanding call from the mayor. At the last minute, she slipped it into the pocket of her thigh-length sweater.
After locking the store behind her, Olivia asked, “Where to, Spunks?”
The little Yorkie yanked his leash in a northerly direction. Olivia knew better than to object. Spunky was particular about his walking route, preferring to avoid such irritants as heavy traffic or rowdy teenagers. Guarding The Gingerbread House all day was a demanding job. For his evening outing, Spunky required peace and quiet.
As Spunky sniffed every inch of a fire hydrant, Olivia’s cell emitted a garbled tune from the recesses of her pocket. She checked caller ID and saw her younger brother’s number. “Jason! How’s life inside the Beltway?”
“Technically, I’m not inside the Beltway, Liv,” Jason said. “In fact, I guess I won’t be in DC at all pretty soon. That’s why I’m calling. I’m moving back home.”
“Oh.” Olivia restrained herself from adding her next thought: Yay! She hadn’t been happy with her brother’s decision to follow his girlfriend when she moved from Chatterley Heights back to DC. Charlene had abruptly closed her new business, a health food store, after her abusive ex-husband sneaked into town and got himself murdered. Olivia had worried that Jason’s devotion to Charlene had more to do with overprotectiveness than love. She rather hoped they had split for good. Jason deserved better. “So,” she asked, “are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Things just got…well, you know how it is. I couldn’t find a job, with this recession and all. I wasn’t about to live on Char’s money.”
“I can understand that,” Olivia said. “It’s a tough situation.”
“Yeah.” Jason was silent so long that Olivia thought he’d hung up. He startled her by saying, “I called Mom and Allan, and they said I could stay with them till I can afford a place of my own again. That’ll be weird, but…hey, the good news is Struts said I could have my old job back.”
“That’s great!” Olivia wasn’t surprised. Struts Marinsky owned Struts & Bolts, Chatterley Heights’s garage. She was a gifted mechanic and a great boss. She recognized skill when she saw it. “It’ll be good to have you around again.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me. Bye.” Click.
Happily distracted by Jason’s news, Olivia strolled another block before she realized Spunky was retracing their morning route to the Chatterley Mansion. And no wonder. During their visit to the mansion that morning, Hermione Chatterley had slipped Spunky a bite of meat. Olivia had not objected, but only because she’d hoped for Hermione’s help to convince Paine to open the mansion to strangers. Naturally Spunky would head back in hopes of another tasty treat.
“I’m on to you, kiddo,” Olivia said to her determined little dog. “Let me remind you that I am bigger than you, and I’m not about to follow you back to that mansion for every walk from now to infirmity.”
Spunky paid no attention. He turned north onto Sycamore Street, which would eventually lead them past the mansion. When Olivia slowed her pace, Spunky strained at his leash until it pulled his front paws off the sidewalk. Olivia picked him up and tucked him under her arm. “You’re lucky I bought you a harness leash so you wouldn’t strangle yourself,” she muttered. Spunky let out a yap in response.
“Shush, boy.” Something in her voice made an impression on the Yorkie, who for once obeyed her command. They had come within sight of Chatterley Mansion, where Olivia saw a car parked in front. The car, a red Cadillac, looked familiar. As she crossed Frederick Street and headed north up Sycamore, she saw the driver’s door open. A shapely leg emerged, followed by the rest of Mayor Karen Evanson. Karen paused to straighten the jacket of her suit and fluff her hair before striding toward the Chatterleys’ front door.
Olivia’s first thought was to call her mother and tell her she was a genius. But she wanted to put some distance between herself and the Chatterley Mansion in case Karen glanced down the street while she waited for someone to answer the front door. Knowing Karen, she would corral Olivia into helping her manipulate Paine Chatterley. Going around the block was Olivia’s safest option.
“Sorry, Spunks, no forbidden treats this evening. We’re going home.” As she bent to put Spunky down, he jerked the leash from her grasp. She grabbed at him, but he was too quick for her. Olivia sprinted after him, consoling herself that at least he was heading north, not toward the mansion’s front door. Spunky, though, had another surprise for her. He suddenly veered to the right and disappeared. Olivia realized at once that he’d found the alley behind the Chatterley Mansion. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence, but Olivia suspected he’d planned the
whole maneuver.
Olivia followed Spunky into the alley, strolling, in case anyone was watching. At first, she couldn’t see the tiny dog ahead of her. Then she spotted him next to a short trash can behind Chatterley Mansion, his tail wagging at warp speed. Spunky was positioning himself for a jump. Before Olivia could capture him, his little hind legs and fluffy tail disappeared inside the can.
“Oh, Spunky…” Olivia peered into the can. Garbage filled about half of it, which might explain why it hadn’t toppled as Spunky leaped inside. A furry Yorkie face gazed up with delight, though not at the sight of his mistress. Between his teeth, he held a piece of red meat. To be precise, a small steak, cooked rare. “You are a bad, bad boy.” Olivia’s admonition had no effect, probably because she’d whispered it.
Olivia reached into the can and clutched the meat with her bare hands. As she tried to pull it out of Spunky’s mouth, he growled and backed up to the edge of the garbage can. The can shifted, scraping the pavement. Olivia saw no other option; she let go. She was grateful the mansion’s only window onto the alley was in the kitchen door, which was several feet away from them.
While she considered her dilemma, it occurred to Olivia to wonder why the Chatterleys had tossed the steak into their garbage. Even if Paine refused to eat it, why wouldn’t Hermione have done so? She felt a chill as she remembered Hermione’s comment that Paine thought she was poisoning him. But no, Spunky weighed only five pounds; if he’d eaten a piece of poisoned meat in the morning, he’d have shown symptoms before evening.
And why was the garbage can already more than half full? Maybe Paine and Hermione were cleaning out items the workers had left in the house, like old wallpaper? Olivia didn’t care enough to examine the can’s contents. She wanted to go home.
Olivia lifted Spunky out of the garbage can, steak and all. As she did so, she noticed an empty whiskey bottle lying amidst the trash. She wondered if perhaps a neighbor had used the mansion’s garbage can to dispose of telltale evidence. A heavy drinker might want to avoid putting too many empty bottles in his or her recycling bin. On the other hand, Snoopy Sam Parnell might have been right for once. Maybe Paine Chatterley did have a drinking problem.
When the Cookie Crumbles Page 5