The street was unusually busy. Cadbury got tourists from all over the world, but this week there were even more. It was very festive with all the banners hanging from the light poles. They fluttered in the wind, and it almost looked like the monarchs were flapping their wings.
Cadbury Travel was located in one of the bland-looking modern buildings on Grand Street. I thought the Victorian-style storefronts were so much more interesting, with their bright colors and fish-scale siding.
A bell rang on the door when I walked in, and Liz looked up from her desk. She was on the phone and held up a finger to let me know she’d be with me in a minute. I took a seat and glanced at the posters of the Manhattan skyline and a cruise ship going through the Panama Canal. I checked out the rack with brochures on river cruises.
When she hung up, she waved me over to the desk and offered me a seat. “Is there a problem with the Danish women?” she said with a worried look.
I assured her that everything was fine with them. I took the check out of my bag and laid on the desk, turning it so she could see the red words stamped on it. “I’m sure this was just some kind of mistake,” I said.
The color drained from Liz’s face, and she swallowed loudly when she saw that I had signed it over to Vista Del Mar. She took out her checkbook and looked at the register.
“The bank must have made some kind of error. I’m sure there’s money in the account,” she said with a forced smile. “Let me give you a new check.”
She seemed to be trying to hide her embarrassment as she handed me the new check. “I guess since you gave the check to Vista Del Mar there isn’t any way to keep this quiet.”
I told her only the one clerk knew and I wasn’t going to spread the word. When I looked up she was leaning on the desk. “Thank you so much,” she said, almost in tears. I had been considering asking her about the Blessing of the Butterflies, but it didn’t seem like the right time.
The whole episode with Liz left me unnerved. She had always seemed businesslike and in control of things, especially compared to me, as I tended to be all over the place.
Instead of heading back to my yellow Mini Cooper, I went down the street to the Coffee Shop. That was actually the real name of it. People in Cadbury shunned anything that smacked of cuteness and preferred to go for the clear meaning. I had started out calling my muffins clever names like 40 Carrots and Merry Berry, but I’d quickly gotten the message to simply call them what they were. So while my blueberry muffins would forever be The Blues in my mind, when I made them for the town coffee spots they were simply called blueberry muffins.
And in my mind the Coffee Shop was known as Maggie’s. The smell of freshly ground coffee permeated the small shop on the corner. Maggie was behind the counter, dispensing drinks. There was a line, and I was glad to see that she had help. Maggie always wore something red. It was her trademark of sorts. I’d heard she’d adopted it as a way to keep herself cheerful after she’d lost her husband and daughter. Lately, she’d simplified and usually just wore a tomato red apron and a matching head scarf.
I waited until the line went down to wave her a greeting. Before I could say a word, she said, “One cappuccino coming up.” Maggie’s personality was as warm as her color of choice. She’d been the first person to sell my muffins and make me feel welcome in town. Maggie also knew everything about everyone in town.
I took a tiny table in the corner, and a moment later Maggie brought my drink over, along with one for herself. She slipped into the seat across from me. “It’s been crazy all day. I need an excuse for a break.”
“Thank you for standing up for me last night,” I said. I took a sip of the hot drink, which, as usual, was made with just the right balance of steamed milk and espresso.
“Nonsense. I was just speaking the truth. I’d say something about how lousy I thought Rosalie’s behavior was, but under the circumstances it seems like very bad taste.”
I wanted to tell her about my dealings with Liz Buckley, but I’d given my word to keep it quiet, and Maggie was like information central. Besides, Rosalie Hardcastle was the hot topic. “What a shock,” I said, before explaining I’d been there when it happened.
Maggie gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “I was there for the dinner and the scene with the princesses, but then I left. There are only so many times I can watch the Blessing of the Butterflies,” she said.
“I heard it was always the same.” I drank some more of the cappuccino, enjoying the boost it gave me. It had been a long day, and it was far from over.
“That’s an understatement.” She checked the counter to make sure her helper was managing. What she’d said had made me think of something.
“If it was always the same, then it would have been easy to figure when Rosalie would be sitting with her back to the open door.” Maggie nodded and I continued. “Someone just had to come at the appropriate time with a knife.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t narrow it down. I think everybody in town knows the program by heart. It really was a perfect setup for murder—the lights off, loud music with lots of people moving around and Rosalie in the perfect position to get stabbed in the back.”
“Poor Rosalie was a sitting duck,” I said. I expected Maggie to say something about how terrible it was, but she surprised me.
“This might be in bad taste, but it’s also the truth: she wasn’t a very nice person.” Maggie’s tone was surprisingly harsh. “Unlike her husband. Have you ever met him?”
“No. I just heard that everybody seems to like him.”
“Yes, Hank is a great guy and was easy pickings for Rosalie. I don’t know if you’ve seen him, but he’s kind of plain. She made a play for him when she was Butterfly Queen for the first time, so she was like a town celebrity. He’s an easygoing person and was flattered by all her attention. He didn’t get it. It wasn’t Hank she wanted as much as being a Hardcastle. Rosalie wanted to be a big deal in town, like the Delacortes, and the closest she was going to get was being a Hardcastle. They weren’t close to the Delacortes in terms of a fortune, but Hank’s family owned a lot of property around town.” Maggie chuckled. “Rosalie never liked it that Hank’s parents were low-key like he is, and she never got to play the wealthy matron.” Maggie played with her cup and seemed to be thinking about something. “But now everything has changed, and for Hank as well.” It almost seemed like she was talking to herself.
“It seems strange that he wasn’t at the event the other night,” I said.
“He was probably working,” Maggie said. I wanted to get more details, but there was a sudden rush of customers. “Break time is over,” Maggie sighed, picking up her cup.
I took a moment to finish my drink before I got up to leave. I glanced toward the counter and felt my breath stop when I saw the basket Maggie kept my muffins in. It was still half full. Maggie saw me looking.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “Everything is off because of Butterfly Week.”
No matter what she said, I knew the truth, I thought as I left the Coffee Shop. My muffins were definitely under a cloud of suspicion.
I remember what Sammy had said about testing samples of the food. Could there be anything left from the chili dinner to test? On the chance, I took a detour and walked down a side street to the Cadbury Natural History Museum. A banner announcing Butterfly Week was draped across the statute of a whale in front of the Spanish-style building. It was tiny compared to the Field Museum I’d gone to in Chicago, but it dated from the late 1800s and served as a community center.
I went into the entrance hall. One whole side of the museum was devoted to the monarchs and their travels and life cycles. There was even a model of the local area that had become known as the Sanctuary in a glass case, complete with tiny butterflies hanging on the trees.
The entrance to the multipurpose room was at the back. A bunch of kids were making papier-mâché butterflies, and
no one even looked up when I went through. The large room looked a lot different from the night of the chili dinner. Then, there had been long tables with checkered tablecloths set up for the team and their families. The walls had been decorated with the high school team’s pennants.
A swinging door led to the kitchen. It was deserted at the moment, but I saw a bunch of things packed in a box marked Chili Dinner. I started to take everything out in the hopes of finding a leftover muffin. It would be rock hard by now but could still be tested. The pennants were on top, and some large pans were underneath. I assumed the pans must have been Rosalie’s. I took everything out and didn’t find even a crumb of a muffin, so I started to pack everything back in. A strip of paper fluttered down. I picked it up and saw it was some kind of receipt. It seemed to have been tucked between the pans, so I put it back. I finished by putting the pennants across the top.
I checked the refrigerator to see if there was any of the chili left. If I got it tested and it was the culprit, my muffins would be off the hook. But all that was in there were several brown bags with names on them. I assumed they were staff members’ lunches.
I was on my way out when I remembered that the Hardcastles had donated an exhibit to the museum. Actually, I think Rosalie had called it a pavilion, which implied an addition or a big space. I asked about it at the front desk and was directed to the main room. Everyone was flocking to the butterfly exhibit, so I had the room to myself. That is, if you didn’t count all the displays of animals specimens, which was a nice way of saying dead stuffed animals. Was it my imagination or did they seem to all be staring at me with those shiny glass eyes? It was supposed to be educational to be able to see all the wildlife up close, but it was also creepy, particularly in the deliberately low light. I liked to think that all they had all died naturally before they ended up being stuffed and put on display.
I noticed some little brass plates in front of the glass cases and saw they explained that the exhibit was a gift from someone. There was clearly no pavilion, and I began to think it was more likely a glass case. I didn’t feel like making the rounds of the whole room to find the Hardcastle exhibit and was about to go back to the front and ask the docent to be more specific about its location, but it turned out I didn’t have to. As I took a step back, I felt something behind me, and when I turned I found myself almost in the embrace of a seven-foot grizzly bear, his long claws next to my face. When I looked up at his black eyes, I almost thought they were moving, but then I realized that it was just a reflection in the glass eyes from outside. I knew the bear wasn’t alive, but it definitely made me uncomfortable, and I quickly stepped away from his clutches. As I moved, I noticed a large brass plaque that said the bear was a gift of Rosalie and Hank Hardcastle.
It was definitely the biggest animal on display, and from what I was learning about Rosalie lately, it made sense. It certainly stood out from the rest of the room.
When I got outside and looked at my watch, I was shocked to see the time. I had to get back to my retreaters.
I made a quick stop at home first and was surprised to see I had seven phone messages. When I checked, they were all from the coffee places that sold my muffins, asking me for just half the usual order. Only Maggie hadn’t called to change her order. Of all the things I’d considered happening to make me leave Cadbury, it had never occurred to me that there would be a problem with my baking business. Without it, I could never afford to stay. Julius must have sensed trouble, because he was practically glued to my ankle and for once wasn’t trying to get me to serve up some stink fish.
“Don’t worry, wherever I go, you’re coming, too,” I told him. The way I looked at it, Julius and I had found each other. I still wasn’t sure which of us was the pet, but then, he was the first animal companion I’d ever had. “I’m sure they sell stink fish everywhere.”
Julius watched me from the kitchen counter as I went out the door and back across the street. When I’d first seen him wandering the grounds of Vista Del Mar, it seemed like he’d been abandoned. I hoped he realized that wasn’t going to happen again.
I tried to put a positive spin on my troubles by telling myself that at least I wouldn’t have to do as much baking. With everything else I had going on, that was actually a good thing. The dinner bell had already rung, and just a few stragglers were on the path as I made my way to the dining hall. With all of Lucinda’s restaurant experience, she naturally acted as host, so I didn’t have to worry about getting to meals on time. I made a stop in the Lodge and gave Liz Buckley’s new check to the clerk. She seemed a little hesitant to take it.
“I’m sure this one will be fine,” I said.
“At least I know where to find you if there’s a problem,” she joked.
I went on to the dining hall, and as I’d expected, Lucinda had gotten three of the round tables for our group. She was circulating with iced tea and coffee and making sure everyone was happy with the meal. She pointed out an empty seat, and I went to the table. Since running the workshops was work for Crystal and Wanda, they had gone home for the day. It always made me laugh to see how our tables were littered with yarn. I was relieved that everyone seemed happy. Two of the early birds clustered around me to share their news. Bree had found somebody who seemed a little lost and was having a hard time adjusting to the lack of electronics. She’d been through both experiences but had eventually realized that there was something to be said about not spending all your time with your face in a phone.
Olivia was holding a small long loom. “This would be perfect to make squares on.” Olivia’s passion had become getting knitters and crocheters to make eight-inch squares that she sewed into blankets and then passed on to assorted charities. Now whenever she came, she was always looking to have the group make squares during one of the impromptu gatherings. “It will be so much faster,” she added.
Scott had moved to another table and was talking to a family. I noticed the father was knitting as they talked. Scott had found a kindred spirit.
I joined the retreaters for the meal, once again realizing I’d been too busy to eat. When dinner ended, I gathered up the group and told them to head over to the Lodge, where everyone was meeting ahead of that night’s monarch event, the Beckoning of the Butterflies.
When we got there, I spotted the Delacorte sisters and went over to greet them. Cora had on an overcoat and scarf. Her puff of brown hair seemed recently styled, and she was holding her purse on her arm just the way Queen Elizabeth did. She threw a disdainful glance at her older sister. Madeleine had always been the more timid of the two and up until recently had been so quiet that I’d actually wondered if she was able to talk. But all that had changed—she claimed because of me. She’d joined my last retreat, and the ensuing adventure had caused her to come out of her shell. She seemed to be making up for lost time.
“Check out these jeans,” she said proudly, kicking out her leg. I heard Cora groan with irritation. She couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal that her seventy-something sister had just started wearing the denim pants.
Madeleine might have gone a little overboard—I noticed her pants were distressed with a fashionable tear at the knee—but she seemed so happy with them that all I could do was smile and tell her they looked great.
“With Rosalie gone,” Madeleine said, “we’re back in charge of the Butterfly Queen committee. That woman took it upon herself to be the head of the committee.” She glanced at Chloe, who was sitting across the room. “She just showed up and said she was back on the Princess Court. I suppose there’s nothing we can do—Rosalie was totally wrong about putting her out because she didn’t like the way she was dressed—but it still seems like bad form, all things considered. Everyone says she’s the one who stabbed Rosalie.”
“I have it on good authority that she didn’t do it,” I said. Cora was listening and joined the conversation.
“Who’s the good authority?” the
more formal sister asked.
“She told me she didn’t do it.”
Cora’s mascaraed eyelashes fluttered. “As if she would tell you the truth. But I know you’re innocent until proven guilty, so we’ll let her stay in the court.” Cora glanced around at the growing crowd. “I hope we can get through this evening without any problems.” She pulled out some leather gloves and held them in her hand.
I heard someone calling my name and saw that Sammy had just come in, along with his mother. They made their way over to me. Sammy seemed subdued and his mother annoyed. “I don’t know where your father went,” she was saying. “After the whale watching I went to take a nap, and when I got up, he and the car were both gone.” She looked around at the crowd.
“Sammy said there’s some special event tonight. I was hoping we could sit down someplace and talk about your future,” his mother continued.
Just then, Crystal’s son, Kory, came through the crowd and saw Sammy. He went up to him and pulled on his ear, while Sammy’s mother watched. “Aren’t you going to make a quarter app—” Before he could say the rest of “appear,” I took Kory’s arm and led him aside. I told him the truth, that Sammy’s mother didn’t know about his magic act. “Not everybody’s mother is as cool as yours,” I said.
“Poor guy,” Kory said.
Sammy’s mother glanced around impatiently. “What are we waiting for?” she said.
“It’s who,” Kevin St. John said, overhearing her. I was surprised to see that he’d added a fleece jacket over his suit. “And here he is, the Lord of the Butterflies.” Coach Gary had just walked in, with Liz at his side. She seemed to have recovered from our afternoon encounter. Gary wore the large wings over his leather jacket. Kevin St. John seemed unusually animated and leaned in to speak to Sammy’s mother. “You’ll see it was worth the wait. It’s going to be truly magical.” Sammy winced at the word.
Coach Gary walked across the Lodge and opened the door that led out onto the deck. He waved for the princesses to come first, and then for the rest of us to follow.
Gone with the Wool Page 9