Manic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 6)

by Meg Muldoon

  He was leaning forward on the counter, his head bowed so that I could just see the top of his cowboy hat.

  “Cin, you’ve been so quiet all morning,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I bit my lower lip and turned back around, giving my full attention to the oranges.

  “I’m just fine,” I said.

  “You don’t seem just fine, Cin,” he said. “You don’t seem fine at all.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “No, it’s something, all right,” he said, frustration rising up in his voice. “Would ya just look at me, please?”

  I rested the orange on the counter, then turned around, wiping my sticky hands on my apron.

  He was staring at me with an intensity I hadn’t expected.

  “You’re upset, Cin. Don’t pretend you’re not.”

  “I wasn’t pretending,” I said. “It’s just…”

  I trailed off.

  Daniel and I didn’t fight much. Hardly at all, in fact. But the few times when we had, the arguments had left me emotionally drained. And that was something I couldn’t afford when fifty people were waiting on my pies at the moment.

  I shook my head.

  “Now’s not the time,” I said. “I’ve got too much to do.”

  He stood up and inched closer toward me.

  “Just tell me, Cin,” he said. “I can’t stand you being upset with me. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all morning.”

  “I’m not upset with you. I’m just…”

  I trailed off, knowing that there was no way of avoiding it now. The train was already in motion and headed for impact.

  I took in a deep breath and did my best to hold on.

  “I know I shouldn’t have even been out there in the first place” I said. “And I know that that’s my fault. I’m as stubborn as Warren is when I get my mind on something. You’ve been telling me all this time that I shouldn’t be coming along on these calls, that things could get dangerous. But I guess I never really thought it through all the way.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “But I just…”

  I cleared my throat, and summoned the courage to say what I really meant.

  “I saw the look in your eyes, Daniel,” I said. “You looked like you were going to murder George Drutman right then and there. I mean, God knows what would have happened if Billy Jasper wasn’t there to stop you.”

  I bit my lower lip.

  “I haven’t ever seen you look that way before.”

  “He almost killed you,” Daniel said, his voice quivering slightly. “You expect me just to stand by and not do anything about that? After what he did and what he said? You expect me to let a man like that get away with all of it? The same way he’s gotten away with things his whole entire life?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t expect you to do nothing. And I know that you were just trying to protect me, and I’m grateful for that. But you know what would have happened if you’d thrown that punch? You’d have lost your job and everything you’ve worked so hard for. All because of that drunk idiot.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “I know how much it means to you being Sheriff,” I said. “I know how hard you worked to get here. And you were about to throw all of that away this morning because of—”

  “Nothing happened,” he said. “I didn’t hit him, Cin.”

  “I know, but—”

  “It didn’t happen,” he said. “George is sitting in the county jail right now and there’s not a scratch on him.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I still can’t stop thinking about what almost happened, Daniel. About everything that could have been lost in that moment.”

  “And I can’t stop thinking about what I could have lost in the moment before that,” he said.

  I looked away.

  He’d only been trying to protect me. I knew that.

  He was silent for a few moments.

  He finally placed a hand up to my cheek and gently turned my head back toward him.

  The frustration in his eyes had faded.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you, Cin,” he said. “It was only because I got scared myself. You see, I thought that son of a bi… He…”

  Daniel trailed off.

  “When I saw that truck overturned in the ditch like that, I…”

  He let out a heavy breath.

  “I should have protected you better,” he said. “It’s my fault that any of it happened to start with. I shouldn’t have left you alone out there, exposed. I knew how unpredictable that bastard was.”

  “You couldn’t have known he was going to do what he did.”

  “No, but my job is to know people,” he said. “And hitting the Sheriff’s truck with an RV is just like something George Drutman would do. Reckless and completely selfish.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it.

  “I’m sorry, Cin,” he said. “And I’m sorry again for scaring you like that.”

  I knew that this was a touchy subject for Daniel. In the past, he’d told me he had problems managing his anger. When it had come to the man who had murdered his brother, Daniel had snapped. He’d beaten him before arresting him, and I knew that while the action seemed just for the things the man had taken away from Daniel, Daniel didn’t see it that way these days. I knew it was a burden he carried with him. A guilt that he felt keenly, even to this day. And while I had never seen that kind of anger in him so long as we’d been together, I always got the feeling that he feared it in himself. As if it was something asleep inside of him that he feared would one day wake-up.

  A look of sadness suddenly crossed his face, like he was thinking the same thing that I was.

  I couldn’t stand seeing him so sad. I couldn’t stand it for a single moment longer.

  I rubbed my fingers against his palm.

  “It’s only because I love you so much,” I said. “And that loser who almost ran me over doesn’t deserve one millisecond of your time.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m not going to say I wouldn’t do it again if I had it to do all over. Not after the things he did and said. He deserved every ounce of what was coming his way.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And he’s still going to get it. Only it’s going to be in court.”

  He wasn’t completely satisfied, but it would have to do.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I know. You’re right.”

  He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He touched my fingers playfully.

  “So, uh, so does this mean that you won’t be at the ball game tonight?”

  “What do you think?”

  He paused, sizing me up.

  “I think that even if you were angry at me, I’d still see you sitting on those bleachers this evening.”

  “Now is that so?” I said, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You sound awfully confident about that.”

  “You know why I’m so confident?”

  “Why?”

  “‘Cuz I’ve got it on good authority that you’ve got it bad for the pitcher,” he said, stepping closer toward me.

  “Now what would give you an idea like that?”

  He smiled a big joker smile and shrugged.

  “Just the way you look at him,” he said. “Sometimes you give him these long looks. Kind of breaks his concentration a little. That’s why he throws a wild pitch here and there.”

  “So that’s the reason. I thought he threw those wild pitches because he was getting old.”

  He leaned his head back in feigned shock.

  “Getting old?! Getting old? Now I know you ain’t talking about me.”

  “I’m just saying,” I said, playfully. “It was a long time ago that you led the Christmas River High School baseball team to a state final.”

  He let out a snort.

  “Honey, I’m like that ol’ barrel of Marionberry ale Warren’s got sitting in the garage,” he said. “I only get b
etter and sweeter with age.”

  I giggled.

  “Well, if you’re wondering whether or not I’ll be at the game tonight, which I believe was the initial question in this conversation, then yes, Mr. Brightman. I’ll be there at the diamond, 7 p.m. sharp.”

  He smiled again.

  “Like I thought,” he said. “You’ve got it bad for the pitcher.”

  “Whatever, old dude,” I said.

  He leaned down.

  “In the meantime, I’ll show you just what this old dude can do.”

  He gave me a smoldering, passionate kiss that knocked my socks off.

  All those customers waiting, all the pies left to make, all the stress of the morning… all of it just melted away like butter dripping down the side of a pie dish.

  “Cin,” he said, pulling away. “How can I convince you to take the rest of the day off? We can play hooky, go up to Sparks Lake. Lie down and watch the clouds drift by. Throw a couple of lines in the water for good measure. What do you say?”

  “I say there’s nothing I’d rather do on earth than—”

  “Uh, miss, we’ve got a lot of folks asking about that Four Berry Pi—”

  I heard Tobias’s voice as he poked his head through the dividing door. He was looking down at the ground, not meeting my eyes.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Uh, sorry if I interrupted something, miss,” he said.

  “You didn’t interrupt, Tobias,” I said. “And thanks for letting me know. You can tell them there’s another batch cooling as we speak, and that it’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, nodding and scurrying back to the front.

  I looked back at Daniel. He was trying to hide it, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

  “Don’t suppose those pies will take care of themselves,” he said, letting me go.

  I sighed.

  “Don’t suppose they will.”

  He reached for his hat, which he’d placed on the counter.

  “Then I guess I should get going myself,” he said. “Though you know I don’t want to.”

  He started heading for the door, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to me before he could get much farther.

  “Don’t go looking so glum,” I said. “Maybe after the game, you can show me more of those old dude moves.”

  I kissed him lightly on the lips, then pushed him toward the door.

  “It’s a date,” he said, winking back at me.

  I watched as my husband went out the back, closing the door behind him. Then I listened as his boots hit the deck and the sound of his steps faded away.

  I never could stay very upset for long when Daniel Brightman was around. He always had a way of talking me out of it.

  I hoped the rest of the day would go by fast.

  Chapter 10

  Tobias was wrong about us selling out by 2 p.m.

  By 1 o’clock that day, we were fresh out of every slice of Orange Creamsicle, Firecracker Cherry, Four Berry, Blueberry Cinnamon, Raspberry Cookie, Whiskey Apple, Pumpkin Pecan, Blueberry Peach, Lemon Gingersnap, Moundful Marionberry, Banana Mocha Pudding, Chocolate Hazelnut, and Strawberry Rhubarb pie in the joint. We’d been cleaned out completely, and there were still folks we had to turn away. Folks who had been standing in line for over an hour, and who were none too pleased about being told that there was no pie for them.

  When I went out and announced the bad news and apologized, there had been a round of groans. One tourist who had been fanning herself with a haphazardly-made paper fan let out a long sigh up into the air like the world had just ended, and gave me a sour, nasty look. Then she turned on her heels and stomped out of the dining room like a tantrum-throwing toddler.

  No wonder I was having nightmares. The thought that the crowd might grab torches and pitchforks at any moment and come after me didn’t seem all that farfetched on a day like today.

  The simple fact was that I was in dire straits. The demand for my pies had reached levels that a three-person staff couldn’t handle. I was desperately in need of an employee. And maybe more than one.

  I resolved to place an ad with the newspaper first thing on Monday.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing as much as I could for the day ahead, prebaking shells and making fillings, trying to do what I could to prepare for the onslaught of customers set to storm my shop this Fourth of July.

  Then I grabbed one of my freshly-baked Orange Creamsicle pies and took it with me as I climbed into my black Escape. I headed down Main Street and over to the red house at the end of Pine Haven Lane on Christmas River’s north side.

  I pulled up in the driveway, got out of the car, and smiled.

  From the street, I could hear the faint sound of baby Laila crying.

  Chapter 11

  “Oh my God, Cin!” she gasped, almost before even opening the door. “I heard about what happened this morning with George Drutman totaling Daniel’s truck. Are you guys okay? I can’t believe that rich, no-good tool. I mean, I always knew he thought he was so much better than everybody else, but can you believe he’d actually do something like that? It’s crazy. The man is nuts to hit the Sheriff’s truck. I mean, how thick do you have to be to do something like that? Doesn’t he know how much trouble he’s getting into? I mean, it’s crazy that…”

  She said it all in one breath, babbling at a million miles a second.

  I’d obviously happened upon the Billings household just as Kara had gotten her second wind of the afternoon. Lately when I saw her, she was either brimming with energy, the way she was now, or she was dead tired and could hardly hold her head up.

  “Everything’s just fine,” I said. “I mean, Daniel’s not too happy about the truck, but he needed a new one anyway.”

  “But what about you? I mean, I heard that you were there when it happened. That you—”

  “I’m just fine, as you can see. Not a scratch on me.”

  Well, maybe that wasn’t completely true. I did have a couple of big bruises on my shins from when I had to jump out of the truck. But they were minor in comparison to how it could have been.

  Kara shook her head.

  “And then I heard that Billy Jasper got so angry about George totaling his boss’s truck, that he almost beat George to death. And it was only because Daniel intervened that George is still alive right now. I heard George might lose an eye and he’s asked for a priest. Is that true, Cin?”

  Not surprisingly, local gossips had not only gotten the facts wrong, but had wildly exaggerated them, no doubt for devious reasons of their own.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I said.

  “Moira Stewart, of course. She knows about everything around here before it even happens.”

  “Yeah, I thought as much,” I said.

  I swear, Moira must have gotten some sick satisfaction out of seeing what her fantastical additions to the stories did to local townsfolks.

  “George was arrested and he walked to the police car on his own two feet,” I said. “Nobody touched a hair on his balding head.”

  Kara’s face fell a little.

  “Well, I wish someone had,” she said, opening the door so I could come in, now that the fact-checking session was through. “I’m sure he deserved much worse than he got.”

  Hoping to change the subject, I held out the aluminum-wrapped round I was holding in my hands. Her eyes grew wide when she saw it.

  She glanced around suspiciously behind me, up and down the street, acting as if we were in the middle of a drug transaction.

  Then she closed the door behind me.

  “You’ve really got to stop bringing me these,” she said, taking the round out of my hand. “Mark my words, if you keep doing what you’re doing, your best friend isn’t going to fit through the doorjambs of her own house. And then Moira Stewart will really have something to gossip about.”

  Kara led me through the living room, which was covered with an assortment of
small plastic toys, and into the kitchen. While she grabbed a couple of plates from one of the cupboards and cut up two large slices of the pie, I greeted the cute-as-a-button babe sitting pretty in her high chair at the kitchen table.

  “Oh, jeez, Cin. You even brought me that Orange Creamsicle flavored one,” Kara continued. “Don’t you know I can’t control myself around these? This pie alone is going to add five more pounds!”

  “‘Pish-posh,’ as Warren would say,” I said as Kara pushed a plate in my direction. “You’re looking great, Kara. And you know it. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you so happy before.”

  I wasn’t lying either. She’d put on a few pounds during the pregnancy, but it only served to make her more beautiful somehow. Kara had a glow about her these days. Something inside her was shining real bright, and it was hard not to notice. Even when she spent most of her day walking around in sweats with baby stains on them, she was just as beautiful as her baby girl: Laila Mae Billings.

  Though just a few months old, Laila was a real beauty. She already had a full head of frizzy brown hair and big blue eyes that sparkled just like her mama’s.

  Kara smiled slightly, and looked over at her daughter.

  “Well, it hasn’t all been roses, Cin,” she said. “Lord knows what I wouldn’t give for two hours of uninterrupted sleep and a night out on the town, wearing something else other than mommy clothes. But you’re right – I’m liking all this more than I thought I would.”

  “I can see why,” I said.

  Laila gurgled slightly, looking at us inquisitively with those big, bright eyes of hers. I smiled as she wrapped one of her tiny hands around my finger. She giggled.

  I’d never had too many children in my life. I was an only child and all my cousins were older than me. Most of my friends from college had stayed in the rat race of public relations or advertising, and had yet to settle down. So Kara’s beautiful baby girl, Laila, was the first baby that I’d ever had the opportunity to see on a regular basis.

  And I found myself completely smitten with her – something that for some reason, took me by surprise.

  I wasn’t sure if all babies had it, but there was something real special about Laila. I knew it from the day she was born, when John, Daniel and I had stayed up all night at the hospital during Kara’s labor. When I saw Kara holding her, finally, in her arms, I swear… there was a light brighter than the sun shining around them.