Missing in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 9)

by Meg Muldoon

  “I wasn’t trying to embarrass Cin,” Wes said, turning toward his wife and gesturing at me as he spoke. “I was just stating a fact that everybody in the state knows. Did you see her earlier on Good Morning, Oregon? Nobody in the whole Pacific Northwest makes pies as good as her. Isn’t that what that host lady said when she introduced her on the show?”

  “Of course we all saw that Cin killed it on Good Morning, Oregon earlier,” Angie retorted, tossing her hair back. “And it is obvious that she’s the best pie baker in the country. But you don’t have to go and make her uneasy about her newfound fame with all this bowing nonsense. Right, Cin?”

  Angie smiled at me warmly.

  “I think you guys are exaggerating about me like two old fisherman,” I said. “But I do agree with the second part of your statement, Wes. That I have returned home to Christmas River. And I’m pleased as pie to finally be back where I belong.”

  “I’m sure Daniel will be happy to hear that you haven’t turned into a city girl this summer,” Wes said. “But I have to say, you look like you’re missing something since you got back, Cin.”

  “And what’s that?” I said.

  Wes paused, rubbing the stubble on his chin for a long moment, sizing me up.

  Wes was the younger brother of Deb Dulany – a single mom who I had gotten to know a couple of Thanksgivings ago when her turkey had run away from its coop. Wes was good-looking in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way. With a deep tan, full beard, and messy shock of blond hair, there was a youthful quality about him that made him seem far younger than his 38 years.

  “Hmm… it’s just hard to say exactly. But something is definitely missing,” he continued, gazing at me and furrowing his brow. “Angie, can you figure out what Cin doesn’t have?”

  Angie let out a long sigh, as if she was weary of her husband’s silly antics.

  “No, hon,” she said between gritted teeth. “I don’t have a clue.”

  He paused a moment longer before answering, as if trying to put his finger on it.

  Then his eyes grew wide as if he’d just figured it out.

  “Oh, I know. You’re missing a beer, Cin!” he said, grinning brightly. “What can I get you to drink?”

  I shook my head at how ridiculous Wes Dulany could be. But I couldn’t keep from smiling, either.

  Because Wes was also one of the sweetest people I’d ever met.

  I guess I had always had an inkling that was the case with him. But since he’d been popular and a few years ahead of me in high school, and since I was somewhat of a social misfit in those days, I’d never really gotten to know Wes Dulany all that well. But he’d been in Daniel’s class, and the two of them had been buddies back in the day. They’d both been happy to strike up their friendship when Wes and his wife moved back to Christmas River earlier this year from Tacoma. Recently, Wes had landed a job with the local fire department as an EMT – which had been his profession for the last seven years in Washington. He was set to start the job at the end of the month.

  “After the day I’ve had, a beer sounds like heaven,” I said, feeling some of the stress that had settled in my shoulders dissipate at the very thought of a crisp, foamy pint. “What are the choices?”

  “Well, we’ve got three different kegs,” Wes said. “Every one of them from this fine little brewery in downtown Christmas River. You might have heard of it? It’s called Geronimo Brewing Co. It’s run by this cradle-robbing old timer who never stops talking and his pretty young Scottish wife.”

  He grinned, knowing he was stirring up trouble with the description.

  “Hey!” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Wes!” Angie said, pushing his shoulder. “Don’t be so rude!”

  Though we all knew it was in good fun, Angie looked positively mortified.

  “Yeah,” I added. “I don’t even let Daniel talk that way about my grandfather. Let alone somebody who’s practically a Washingtonian by now.”

  Wes held his hands up.

  “You know I love your grandfather, Cin,” he said. “But c’mon. Even you have to admit that what I just said about him is true.”

  I shook my head.

  “No, I don’t have to admit anything of the kind. And it sounds to me like you’ve been spending way too much time around Daniel this summer,” I said. “That’s the same exact defense he always uses anytime he talks nonsense about my grandpa.”

  “She’s got a point,” I heard a voice say from behind me. “You’ve probably picked up a few bad habits from volunteering at the Sheriff’s Office this summer, Wes.”

  “No bad habits that I wasn’t already born with,” Wes said, grinning that big fat troublesome grin of his.

  I glanced back, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.

  He’d cleaned up real nice and was looking handsome and sharp in his Sheriff’s uniform. He’d been growing out a beard this summer – an idea that I was sure he’d picked up from Wes, who hadn’t been seen without a beard in Christmas River since he was 17. And while I’d been slightly hesitant about Daniel growing one of his own, I really liked it now.

  Or maybe it was just that this summer, I’d missed anything and everything about Daniel – including that beard.

  The old adage said that absence made the heart grow fonder. But in my case, being away from my husband for long stretches at a time had made my heart as rabid as a half-starved zombie.

  “Now let me go see about that beer,” Wes said. “Douglas Fir IPA sound good, Cin?”

  I nodded and smiled gratefully

  He departed, leaving Angie and Kevin behind.

  “Hey, what about refreshing my drink?” she shouted after him, feigning a look of frustration and holding up her empty plastic beer glass.

  “If there’s beer leftover after I get Cin’s, then I’ll consider it.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a grunt of disapproval.

  “I know what you’re all thinking,” she said, turning back to us. “You’re thinking ‘How in the world did I get lucky enough to land Prince Charming himself?’”

  Daniel and I both laughed at her sarcasm. Kevin, another Search & Rescue volunteer and Wes’s good buddy from Tacoma, nearly snorted beer out of his nose. And that caused everybody to laugh even harder.

  It was good being back home and being around our friends again. Even if they were relatively new friends for me.

  Over the summer, Wes had practically become Daniel’s best friend. He and Daniel both enjoyed baseball, beer, and fishing, and the two of them could now practically finish each other’s sentences.

  I’d been glad that Daniel had found a new friend and that he hadn’t spent the summer all alone.

  “So, Cin,” Angie said, playing with her plastic pint cup. “With summer ending, does this mean we’ll finally get to see more of you?”

  “Thankfully, yes,” I said. “We’ve hired some culinary graduates to work the food cart in Portland for the fall and winter, so I should be making a lot fewer trips out there these next few months.”

  I felt Daniel squeeze my shoulder as I said it, and I knew that he’d been waiting for the summer to be over nearly as long as I had.

  As if sensing the moment between us, Angie smiled brightly.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “And it’s obvious that I’m not the only one.”

  She shot a quick glance over at Kevin.

  “You know, I think I’ll go see how Wes is doing. Go fill up my glass while I’m there since I know I can’t count on ol’ Prince Charming to do it for me.”

  She winked at me, as if to let me know she was leaving to give Daniel and me a moment alone together.

  “C’mon, Kev,” she said, nudging the big Search & Rescue volunteer along. “Let’s go see about that beer.”

  “But I just got a refill,” Kevin started protesting. “Why would I—”

  “I need to talk to you about something anyway,” she said, rolling her eyes at Kevin’s slow uptake.
“We’ll catch up with you two lovebirds later, okay?”

  We watched as Angie and Kevin crossed the park, heading toward the row of beer kegs on a picnic table. Wes was standing there, seemingly having forgotten about that beer he was getting me. He’d struck up what looked to be a heated philosophical conversation with Harold, the Pine Needle Tavern’s bartender.

  I didn’t hold it against Wes, though. I knew that once Harold got rambling about something or another, it was hard to extract yourself from the conversation without offending him.

  I glanced around the park for a moment. It appeared that the turnout for the annual Sheriff’s Search & Rescue party was equal to, maybe even better, than most years. A good chunk of the town had showed up this perfect, clear September evening to drink beer, listen to music, and to celebrate the end of the big hiking season.

  “I guess that leaves just you and me,” Daniel said.

  “How will we ever pass the time?” I responded, playfully.

  His eyebrows lifted as the local country band up on the park’s small stage played the first chords of an old familiar ballad.

  “Well, there’s a sweet song playing and I’ve got the prettiest girl at the party in my sights, so I think I’m gonna ask her to dance,” he said.

  “I’m game if you are—” I started saying.

  But before I could finish my thought, Daniel had left me and started walking across the grass toward another woman.

  I felt my mouth pop open as he headed straight toward Tiana, my baking assistant at the pie shop, who was looking especially lovely tonight. She was talking to her fiancé Tobias near one of the picnic tables.

  But right before approaching them, Daniel stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, and gave me a smile that was full of devilment and mischief.

  I placed my hands on my hips, shook my head, and gave him a ruthless stare as he made his way back to me. He chuckled all the way, barely able to contain himself, as if he’d just pulled off the funniest prank.

  “Daniel Brightman!” I said in an exasperated tone. “You rake…”

  His chuckles turned into a deep, hearty laughter as I stood there, arms crossed, fuming.

  “C’mon, Cin,” he finally choked out, reaching for my hand. “You know I was only kidding.”

  I slapped it away.

  “If you think I’m going to dance with you after pulling something like that then—”

  A moment later, I was swept up in his arms. I tried to wriggle free at first, but after a moment, I stopped fighting, giving in.

  “Aw, don’t be mad, darlin,’” he said. “You’re the prettiest, smartest, and coolest girl at this party.”

  He leaned in.

  “And everybody knows it,” he whispered in my ear.

  I felt goosebumps break out across the back of my neck.

  The momentary anger I felt evaporated into the clean, fresh pine-scented air of Meadow Park like smoke.

  I pretended to be mad for a while longer. But soon enough, Daniel Brightman had me smiling and laughing as he told me some nonsensical thing or another while we danced to that slow country ballad.

  I never could stay mad at him for very long.

  Especially when I’d been longing to be back in his arms like this all summer.

  Chapter 7

  “Cinny Bee… this pie is magnanimous.”

  The old man shook his head, shoveled in another bite of Marionberry pie with the plastic fork, and started talking again as he chewed.

  “Magnificent,” he said, the word coming out muffled by pastry and fruit. “Mercurial. And did I say mind-blowing?”

  I smirked, shaking my head at the old man’s alliteration-fueled praise.

  I glanced over at Aileen, who was rolling her eyes.

  “Cin, your pie is all of that and more,” she said, her Scottish accent coming through as strong as cowboy coffee. “It’s Warren’s descriptions that are driving me batty. He’s been doing this all week, talking to himself in the mirror, using big words like that in preparation for his interview with that big beer writer from Craft Brew Magazine who’s coming to Christmas River next month. Saying things like ‘Why yes, our Douglas Fir IPA is amazing, astounding, and armed-to-the-hilt with flavor.’”

  She lowered her voice at that last part and switched on an American accent that sounded eerily like her husband.

  Warren let out a scoff at Aileen’s mockery. He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “I’ll have you know, woman, that he’s not just any beer writer. He’s the beer writer. And he’s coming over from Portland next month specifically to talk with us about the brewery and feature it in one of his articles. Now, it’s only a fool who wouldn’t prepare for something like that.”

  A smile spread across Aileen’s face, and it became evident that despite her grumblings, she was in love with her husband as much as ever.

  “Just ask Cinny Bee here about preparing for big-time interviews,” Warren said, gesturing to me with a fork loaded up with another hefty bite of pie.

  So hefty, in fact, that the motion caused a part of the pastry to fall off and plunge into the grass below.

  “Cin knows I’m right – she’s an expert,” he said, having not noticed that he’d dropped some pie.

  “It was only a couple of interviews this summer,” I said. “Nothing big-time about it.”

  Something glimmered in the old man’s eyes.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Cinny,” he said. “You’re a bon-a-fide star.”

  I felt my cheeks burn.

  I nodded gratefully, but I was never all that good at taking compliments. And between Wes and Angie’s praise, combined with Warren’s, I was beginning to feel mighty uncomfortable at this party.

  “Thanks, Grandpa,” I finally said, shifting my weight between my feet. “That’s really nice of you to—”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt the festivities, ladies and gents, but the time has come in the evening for the Sheriff to say a few words.”

  I stopped speaking as everybody hushed and turned their attention to the man in the cowboy hat standing on a picnic table in the center of the park.

  “First off, thanks to everyone who’s made the trip to be with us tonight as we celebrate the good work that our Search & Rescue volunteers have done this season.”

  Kevin, who was standing nearest to the picnic table that Daniel was speaking from, held up his nearly-empty plastic cup and let out a loud, piercing holler. Daniel’s face broke into a smile, and some chuckles rang out through the crowd.

  “Now, while we’re all grateful for these volunteers, most folks in the community don’t fully understand the sacrifices the Search & Rescuers make during the summer,” Daniel continued, holding the crowd’s attention with ease. “These men and women are on call 24/7 from April until September, and when they’re called up to help, they’re asked to drop whatever it is they’re doing, go out into the backcountry, and search for hours and days at a time until they find who they’re looking for.

  “A lot of times, it turns out to be a bogus call, or the result of somebody who’s come to the forest ill-prepared, or a group who’s just a few miles from a trailhead and couldn’t get their bearings if their life depended on it. It’s not very glamourous, this line of work. But you don’t hear a single one of these fine volunteers complaining about any of it.”

  “And what’s more, none of the volunteers get paid a single cent for their time, resources, and energy. They give everything they have without any incentive. They help simply out of the goodness of their hearts and they don’t ask for a single thing in return.”

  Daniel grinned.

  “Well, most of them don’t anyway. Kevin Hayward, there, asks for bear claws and a six-pack to be waiting for him at the end of every successful search. But let’s just say he’s a… a unique individual.”

  There was a hearty roar of laughter at that, and Kevin turned around, smiling big, taking the joke with a grain of salt and patting his sizeable gut.
r />   Wes started clapping loudly and the rest of the audience followed suit.

  It was obvious that though Kevin had only been in Christmas River for the summer – also coming from Tacoma to volunteer with his friends Wes and Angie – he’d already made quite the impression on some locals. I myself had gotten to know him some, being that he stopped in my pie shop nearly every day around lunchtime for a slice of Chocolate Pecan Pie.

  The man had a big sweet tooth. And a big, boisterous personality to match.

  Daniel smiled, and after the clapping subsided, resumed the speech.

  “But, uh, other than Kev there, none of these fine men and women ask for anything in return. And I’m happy to say that because of their dedication, there were no fatalities in The Christmas River National Forest this summer. And among other instances of heroism, the local branch of Search & Rescue was instrumental in saving the lives of two young children who wandered from their family’s campsite on Meadow Lake and were lost for a full 24 hours.”

  I noticed Wes reach out and pull his wife to him at that. He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled somewhat self-consciously at the attention. Angie had been the one to find the two missing children back in July near the lake.

  “It’s been a very successful season,” Daniel continued. “And on behalf of the Sheriff’s Office, the community, and the thousands of folks who enjoy The Christmas River National Forest every summer, I want to thank the volunteers who have dedicated their time this season. Without them, our Search & Rescue program would be up the creek without a paddle.”

  That got the crowd laughing again.

  “So let’s raise a glass,” he said, lifting up his own. “To the Pohly County Sheriff’s Office Search & Rescue volunteers – Christmas River and Pohly County thanks you for your service.”

  Everyone raised their beer glasses up, holding them in place for a long moment before taking a swig of beer. A few seconds later, Wes Dulany climbed up on the table.