by Donna Doyle
At such moments, her head slouched forward. It would then rest on her chest while the book would slide out of her hands which were gnarled because of her arthritis and fall on the ground, right next to, or sometimes even on top of her startled cat. Eventually it was Molly Gertrude's own loud snoring that would wake her up, and she would try to find a more comfortable sleeping position.
Molly Gertrude needed a lot of sleep and that was not strange at all. The dear old woman was in her eighties, having lived a full life, and she didn't have the same stamina as her much younger assistant, Dora Brightside. Together they were wedding planners extraordinaire.
For Molly Gertrude Grey was the proud owner of a flourishing marriage service in the sleepy town of Calmhaven. The agency had been around for far longer than Molly herself. It had been founded long ago by Molly's great-great-grandmother, and Molly Gertrude still relished telling the stories she had heard from her mother about the humble beginnings of the office, just after the Civil War.
Much had changed since those days. While the office originally had been set up as a dating service of sorts, more recently, with the arrival of the young and enthusiastic assistant Dora Brightside, the focus had somewhat shifted and both Molly Gertrude and Dora now worked side by side as full-fledged wedding planners.
The Cozy Bridal Agency had gained quite a reputation as well, and many people, from far and wide, hired them for the perfect wedding. They took care of even the smallest details, just to ensure the bride and the groom could relax, and would have no other obligation on that most memorable day of their lives than to gaze into each other's eyes and to cut the wedding cake together.
And thus, after a long day of planning and organizing, when the sun was already sinking behind the distant mountains in Calmhaven, Dora would drive Molly Gertrude home in her secondhand Kia Rio, and they would close their workday with tea and cookies.
And today was no exception.
After Molly Gertrude had asked Dora what kind of tea she wanted, she answered with a little smile, "You know which tea I prefer. Raspberry, of course, and if possible…" Her voice trailed off, and she didn't finish her sentence as she craned her neck to see past Molly Gertrude into the kitchen. "Eh…"
The old woman poured the water in the electric water kettle and without looking up she called back, "I bet you are hoping for one of my Silky Citrus Curd cookies."
Dora blushed as if she were a little schoolgirl that had been caught cheating on a history test. "Do you have any?" she asked with a hopeful tone in her voice. She leaned back, while pulling on her auburn ponytail.
Molly Gertrude chuckled. "Of course I do, my dear Dora. You are in luck. I just made a new batch last Sunday." She poured the steaming hot water from the kettle into a porcelain teapot, and placed the pot on a tray, next to a plate with a generous serving of her cookies and two fragile looking cups. "Ever since we have known each other, my Citrus Curd cookies seem to have been your favorites," she said in a light-hearted tone as she carried the tray into the living room.
Dora grinned as she made room for the tray on the coffee table. "You can wake me up for those in the middle of the night."
Molly Gertrude, in an attempt to be helpful, placed the tray right in front of Dora, and lowered herself into the seat opposite of her assistant. When she had made herself comfortable, she asked with a sigh, "Actually Dora, how long has it been since you first came to me, had your first cookie, and helped me to run the Bridal Agency?"
Dora smacked her lips, and looked up at the ceiling, as if she could find the answer there. After a few seconds she turned her gaze back to Molly Gertrude, rearranged the enormous pink glasses that were perched on her nose, and said, "Next month it will be eleven years, I think."
"Eleven years, huh?" Molly Gertrude shook her head. "Time sure flies, "But they have been eleven wonderful years.”
Dora chuckled. "And not only because we've been helping a lot of young couples to have a wonderful start in their married life, but also because of your talent as a veritable sleuth."
"Ourtalent," Molly Gertrude replied in a humble fashion, and she meant it. Both ladies loved adventure, and the more mysterious it was the better!
Dora cast her a grateful smile. "Working with you, Miss Molly, has been the best thing that ever happened in my life," she replied.
Molly Gertrude nodded and cast Dora a grateful smile. "I am as thankful for your company as you seem to be of mine, Dora, although there's not been a lot of need for sleuthing lately." She sighed. "Calmhaven has been as calm and quiet as the still waters and the green pastures of Psalm 23. But…," she said as she pressed her lips together, "…obviously that is a good thing as crime is never a very pleasant occasion."
Dora nodded as she started on her second Citrus Curd Cookie. "I guess it is better that way. We are busy enough and we wouldn't even have time for solving crimes."
Molly Gertrude agreed. "So true, Dora. We've got almost more work than we can handle." She thought for a moment and then asked, "I was going to ask you in the office, but I forgot… the wedding party for the upcoming marriage of Deborah Smythe and Bernard Bloomsteyn… did you have a chance to take care of these last details?"
"Sure did." Dora smiled a satisfied smile. "I was able to hire The Shocking Blue Jeans for a very good price."
Molly Gertrude frowned. "Why do we need Shocking Blue Jeans? I thought Bernard Bloomsteyn insisted on a special dress code?"
"It's a musical group, Molly. A special country band that plays happy music with fiddles, mandolins… banjo's. The whole deal, and they do line dancing as well."
"Line dancing?" Molly Gertrude chuckled. "I will have to skip that part. I am not much of a dancer. But all that matters is that Deborah and Bernard Bloomsteyn are happy."
"I think they will be," Dora said with confidence. "Deborah is already in seventh heaven. She acts like a young doe. I am sohappy for her that she still gets another chance at love after her dear husband had that unfortunate heart attack."
"I remember that," Molly Gertrude said. She narrowed her eyes and took a little trip down memory lane. "Wasn't that the poor fellow they found slouched over his desk in that boat of his?"
"That's the one," Dora mumbled as she took another cookie.
"His name was Jeff," Molly Gertrude continued. "Jeff Smythe. I remember him well. Deborah told me he was working too hard, and he refused to take good care of his health. Doctor Wainwright agreed and said it must have caused the heart attack."
"Yes," Dora smacked. "It's best to go slow on those sweets."
Molly Gertrude chuckled. "You seem to have a bit of a sweet tooth yourself, though."
"But I exercise daily," Dora quickly returned. "Lots of jogging, and I even jump rope. Besides, I don't eat anything sweet besides your stuff, and that's the truth. Moreover, if I recall correctly, you weren't all that convinced that he had only had a heart attack. You were even considering foul play."
"That's right," Molly Gertrude said. She looked up at Dora with a glint of admiration in her eyes. "You've got a good memory. The doctor confirmed the man really had a heart attack, but the why and the how was a bit of a mystery to me."
"Didn’t that have something to do with the apple core they found?" Dora inquired.
Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes again in an effort to remember the details. At last she nodded. "You are right, Dora. It did. As I recall, there was an apple core right on the floor before his desk. Officer JJ Barnes said it must have rolled out of his hand when he had his heart attack. That would explain why the core was lying on the floor and hadn’t been dumped into the bin. But to me, that didn't make any sense. Jeff Smythe was very particular about apples. He absolutely hated apples… I mean not just apples, but fruit in general. Deborah told me her husband was convinced fruit would make him sick, so it's hard to believe he suddenly had a strange urge to eat an apple. I still believe there must have been somebody else around…"
"But Barnes wanted the case to be closed," Dora added.
She stared intently at the tea in her cup for a while, almost as if she hoped she would see a new revelation there. "Must be so strange…," she said at last, "…imagine you are kissing your husband goodbye in the morning, only to find out later you will never see his happy smile again. I remember feeling so sorry for Deborah."
"We all did," Dora agreed. "Luckily for Deborah, he didn't leave her penniless. Word goes around she is just about one of the richest ladies in town."
"And now she's getting married to Bernard Bloomsteyn." Molly Gertrude's voice was flat and void of emotion.
Dora raised her brows as she stared at the old woman. "But that's a good thing, right? You don't sound very excited?"
"I am," Molly Gertrude said as she pressed her lips together. "Of course I am. It's just that…" her voice trailed off and she didn't finish her sentence.
"What’s the matter? Do you have any doubts? To me, Deborah and Bernard Bloomsteyn are just about the perfect couple." Dora scratched her forehead. "They are both wealthy, rich and lonely, and so they are a perfect match. The only right foundation for a marriage should be love though." Her voice took on a solemn tone, a tone much like the one Pastor Julian used at times when preaching on deep subjects. "Giving, sacrificial love that wants to make the other happy. Love and a desire to make the other happy. The only bond that will last."
"I sure hope so," Molly Gertrude replied, but she was not impressed with Dora's observations about the couple. "But at times I feel a certain coldness around Bloomsteyn. I don't know what it is and I can't put my finger on it, but in all honesty… No, I don't particularly like Bernard Bloomsteyn." She knew full well she was throwing a discordant note into the conversation.
Dora narrowed her eyes. "Why not? He's handsome, lonely and in need of love. Have you ever even really talked to him? I mean about things that really matter?"
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Actually, I did. A few times even, when he first came to our office together with Deborah. You weren't around then, but a few things he said to his wife-to-be just sounded distant and cold."
"Like what?"
"Oh, Dora… I can't remember so well. Just little things, but they matter."
This time, Dora did not agree with her dear friend. "Come on, Miss Molly… now you see a devil under every stone, actually sometimes you even see them under the tiniest pebbles. We should rejoice because two people are having another go at happiness."
"Of course I want both of them to be happy," Molly Gertrude answered, but her eyes held a sad look. "It's just something I feel, Dora. Call it intuition, or whatever name you want to give it, but such impressions are rarely wrong." She leaned back in her seat and pressed her lips together. "But who knows, I hope you are right. After all, I am just an old spinster and there's not even a crime involved, so what do I know?" She thought about it for some time and then narrowed her eyes once more. "Then again… I am not the only one with such feelings."
Dora frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I talked to her maid of honor, and I noticed she has doubts as well."
"She does?" Dora gaped. "Her maid of honor is Charmayne Monroe-Mortimer. And she doesn't like Bernard Bloomsteyn either?"
Molly Gertrude nodded. "I suppose not. I met with her at Miss Marmelotte's the other day for a cup of raspberry tea, and she expressed her doubts to me. Actually, she sounded quite convincing."
"That’s just gossip," Dora wrinkled her nose. "Bernard Bloomsteyn is a nice gentleman. He's always smiling, good-looking, and financially independent. He made this very sweet remark the other day…"
Molly Gertrude looked up. "Really? What did he say?"
Dora blushed. "Nothing really… he just called me a fresh oasis in a barren land."
Molly Gertrude shook her head and snorted. "Well, I certainly will agree with him on that, but do you really think he was sincere when he said that?"
Dora frowned. Molly Gertrude perceived Dora wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth, and Molly Gertrude figured her dear assistant had decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
"Please forgive me dear Dora," Molly Gertrude said barely above a whisper. "I meant no offence. It's just that when a man says such things to a girl he hardly knows… it makes me wonder."
"Why couldn't he be sincere?" Dora fired back. "Maybe he just liked me. Lots of people like me. Deputy Digby does as well."
Molly Gertrude lowered her eyes and thought of something she had read one day in a magazine when she was getting her hair done in the salon. The way to a woman's heart goes through her ears. Who had said that?Some famous psychologist, no doubt. But that didn't matter. This was not the time to bring that up.
"Forgive me, Dora," Molly Gertrude spoke in a soft voice. "In my humble opinion, there's no better woman around than you. The man that will one day marry you will have just about won the lottery, but that man will not be Bernard Bloomsteyn."
"No, of course not. He's about to marry Deborah Smythe."
"Dora, the last thing I want to be is insensitive to you," Molly Gertrude continued, "…It's just that you asked me what I thought about Bloomsteyn, so I voiced my reservations. In my experience, especially since I've done my share of sleuthing, I've learned not to take things at face value. Lots of people say things only to get what they want. For example, how do you know he's financially independent?"
"Well… it's obvious. He says he is."
Molly Gertrude smacked her lips. "Do you want to hear a secret… something I never, never, never told anybody in my whole life?"
Dora raised her brows and replied, a little insecure, "Of course I do." She tilted her face so she could hear better.
Molly Gertrude leaned over and said in a whisper, "I was once married…"
"You… married?" A shiver went through Dora's body. "You never told me that."
Molly Gertrude nodded with a twinkle in her eye. "Yes, I was. To Bill Gates."
Dora stared at her for a few seconds, dumbfounded, after which she broke out into a laugh. "That's stupid. Why would you say such a thing?"
"Because," Molly Gertrude said in decisive tones, "people say things all the time. But just the fact that they say it doesn't make it true. Lying comes as easily to the human race as wiping your mouth after eating Citrus Curd Cookies."
Dora blushed. Her hand was just in the tray to pick up another cookie but she veered back without taking one.
Now it was Molly Gertrude's turn to laugh. "I didn't mean to suggest you shouldn't eat more of my cookies. I just wanted to make it clear that lying isn't very difficult."
Dora sighed. "But why would you think Bloomsteyn is lying, and that he's actually poor?"
"I don't say he's lying. I hardly know the man since he just moved here. There's just something about him that makes me uneasy."
Dora shook her head. "You are usually right, Miss Molly, but this time… I don't know. He seems so nice. And look at Greenacre Manor, the place he inherited from his deceased mother. I mean… if you are talking about heaven on earth, you may as well talk about Greenacre Manor. That would be the place of my dreams… Have you seen the garden there?"
"I have," Molly Gertrude agreed. "It is indeed very nice. But it reminds me of something the late Jeff Smythe told me once." She paused for a moment to take a sip of her tea after which she licked her lips.
"What did he say?"
"I was commenting on one of his beautiful yachts once, and I told him I wouldn't mind having one of those. You know, a yacht to sail away at a leisurely pace towards the horizon, basking in the light of the setting sun, with seagulls soaring overhead and blissfully leaving the stress of everyday life behind…"
"Sounds great indeed," Dora agreed. "And…?"
Molly Gertrude chuckled. "He told me I couldn't afford such a yacht, not even if he would give it to me for free."
"Oh… Why not?"
"Such a fancy yacht costs lots of money. You know, he was talking about the upkeep, the taxes, the harbor payments, and a whole slew of other expenses… You need to have good money to even own such a boat."
"Sure you do," Dora said, agreeing again, "but what's your point?"
Molly Gertrude sucked in her cheeks and tilted her head to the side. "My point is that nobody can afford an estate like Greenacre Manor unless he has a steady flow of good and stable income. And that was precisely Charmayne Mortimer's fear."
Surprise flashed over Dora's face. "She really thinks Bloomsteyn is actually not as rich as he acts?"
"That's right," Molly Gertrude nodded. "She fears Bloomsteyn is after Deborah’s money."
"What makes her think that way?"
"I don't know, dear. I already said, I am not making a big deal about it. It's just that you asked me my opinion of Bloomsteyn, and I gave it to you. But you have to admit, we really do not know much about Bloomsteyn, nor about his financial situation. But we doknow for a fact that Deborah Smythe is not just actingrich, but she isrich.”
But Dora did not seem to be convinced. "Like I said, Miss Molly… A devil under every stone. Why can't two people just simply love each other? There's not always a sinister motive…"
"You are right, dear," Molly Gertrude replied in a cheerful fashion, wanting to get this conversation over with. "Thank God, most people do marry out of love. And this marriage may very well be out of love as well, so let's leave it at this. We will do our very best to make the wedding day one of the happiest in Deborah's life, except…" she let her voice trail off, "… I won't be joining the line dancers. At my age that does not seem like a very good idea."
But Dora had not heard Molly Gertrude's last statement, as she was deep in thought. At last, she looked up and her eyes were twinkling with excitement. "In that case, I am going to do some snooping around myself."