MY FAIR LATTE Page 8

  “Great. Meanwhile, I think Halley and I should drop by the candle shop and have a friendly chat with Linda to find out if Vince was the one who tried to buy her shop. If so, maybe she can give us some insight into what Vince was really after, and if he tried anything else with her—like blackmail.

  “At the very least, she would be in a position to tell us if the cops know about the blackmail. If they found evidence at his place that he was blackmailing Linda, I feel certain the detective would have had a chat with her about it by now.”

  “I’ve got a question,” George said.

  “What’s that?” Trudy asked.

  “Is it time for supper? I’m starved.”

  “Oh, I think everything’s about ready. You really worked up an appetite today trying to teach amateurs how to paint?”

  “I depleted all my reserves being nice to people who have no talent but think they do. It wore me out.”

  “Poor baby, I know how much effort it takes for you to be nice to people,” Trudy said with a laugh.

  Trudy set heaping bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and baby carrots, along with the roast platter on the table. We helped ourselves, passing the dishes family style, and I savored every bite of the melt-in-your-mouth tender pot roast. This was exactly the kind of comfort food I’d been craving without even realizing it. But if I kept eating like this on a regular basis I was going to have to do more than scrub sticky stuff off the floor for exercise.

  George filled us in on the demanding and not-so talented students at his painting workshop. Sounded like he’d had a pretty rough day—at least to hear him tell it.

  “Can I ask you two something?” I said.

  I must’ve sounded more dramatic than I intended because George and Trudy both gave me their full attention, stopping their forks midway between their plates and mouths.

  “Are Kendra and Joe the only people in town who don’t know they’re in love? She never stops talking about him. And opening night, Joe couldn’t keep his eyes off her.”

  “Kendra was absolutely gorgeous in that Eliza Doolittle-inspired dress. They obviously have feelings for each other. I think they just haven’t figured out exactly what those feelings are yet. It’s a little complicated,” Trudy said.

  “Nothing complicated about it,” George said. “If Joe had a lick of sense he would have already—what is it the kids say?—put a ring on it.”

  “I’m not sure that’s what the kids say,” Trudy said, rolling her eyes. “But it is complicated. Her parents died in a plane crash just after she started college. Bart, who’s several years older and very protective, didn’t want her to worry about anything after their folks died. So he and Simon babied her, paid all the bills, basically took care of everything through college and grad school. Kendra is just now really out on her own, albeit still partly subsidized by Bart. Not that there’s anything wrong with family support. I think she’s just never thought a lot about the future.”

  “I see. Kendra had basically told me all that, I just didn’t put it together. What about Joe? Couldn’t he take the lead?”

  “Joe’s parents are immigrants and they have some pretty traditional ideas about the kind of girl Joe should marry,” Trudy said.

  “How could they not like Kendra? She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

  “It’s not that they dislike her. It’s just…” Trudy paused.

  “She’s not Chinese,” George interjected.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I don’t think Joe would let his parents arrange a marriage for him. But it’s always nice to have your family’s support, especially if you work together every day. And it might help things along if Kendra was a little more encouraging,” Trudy said.

  “Basically, they’re both waiting for the other one to take the first step, which means they’re standing still on the dance floor,” George said as he spooned more mashed potatoes onto his plate and ladled gravy over them.

  When Trudy transferred a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies from the counter to the table I somehow managed to limit myself to just one. My self-control may have gotten a little boost from the fact that I was already stuffed.

  “This is so good, Trudy,” I said with my mouth full. “Which reminds me of an idea I’ve been wanting to run by you two.

  “Let’s hear it,” George said as he placed a stack of three cookies on the edge of his plate.

  “I think I already mentioned that I’d like to try opening the coffee bar for two or three hours in the mornings. I mean, coffee is what I know. It would draw people into the theater, and hopefully once they’ve had a look around they’ll come back for the movies.”

  “I think that’s a splendid idea,” Trudy said.

  George nodded.

  “Since showcasing wine from Carvello’s on movie night was a hit, I wonder if I could get some of the restaurants and bakeries in town to let me showcase their sweets one morning a week at the coffee bar. You know, muffins from The Muffin Man one morning, pastries from another eatery on a different morning. I could display a sign on the counter with the name of the featured bakery or restaurant and even put out their business cards or flyers. And we could split the money we take in. I wouldn’t really be pulling business away from them since I’d just be offering coffee and a very limited, rotating selection of pastries. Do y’all think any of the bakers might be interested? And who should I ask?”

  George brushed crumbs off his mouth with his napkin, which led me to believe he had something to say.

  “I think that’s a good idea. Hit up The Muffin Man, Donut Dealer, and Our Daley Bread bakery, for sure.”

  “I agree. You might add Tudor House Restaurant to your list. They serve breakfast and their scones are to die for.”

  “If you talk to Edgar at Tudor House, take Trudy with you. He’s always had a soft spot for her,” George said. He batted his eyelashes at Trudy in a mock flirtation, and she rolled her eyes in response.

  They’re pretty cute sometimes.

  “George, are you maybe a little jealous?” I said, teasing him.

  “No, I’m not jealous. But, I’m not blind either.”

  “I’d be glad to go with you to talk to Edgar, or any of the other bakers if you’d like,” Trudy said.

  “Thanks. You’re so good to me. I think I can handle Zeke at The Muffin Man on my own, but I’d appreciate some moral support with the others.”

  Trudy was scheduled to teach her yoga class tomorrow and had a custom jewelry order to finish, as well, so we made arrangements to get together on Wednesday to approach local bakers—and to stop by the candle shop to see what we could find out from Linda.

  CHAPTER 12

  Tuesday dawned a beautiful day. I opened all the window blinds to let the glorious sunlight stream in. And I felt rested for a change. My sleep had been less than optimal the first few nights after Vince’s death scene on opening night. But last night, I had the benefit of a big meal in my stomach, and Eartha Kitty slept curled up on my lap. As usual, she was gone when I awoke.

  Wonder if I snore?

  Kendra called just before Hidden Clue Escape Rooms’ ten o’clock opening time.

  “Hey, I can only talk for a minute, but I spoke to Edgar, the president of the historical society, after the meeting last night. He hinted he might know about someone researching Jesse James treasure and parlayed that into having coffee with me. Sadly, he seems to think it’s a date. It’s not. Anyway, I’m meeting him at The Muffin Man Wednesday morning, so we’ll see.”

  “Wait, Edgar? Is this the same Edgar that owns the Tudor House Inn and Restaurant?

  “Yeah, why?”

  I started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just Edgar is trying to con you into a date, and he has the hots for Trudy—or at least George thinks so. He must be quite a character.
He likes his women young—and also very mature.”

  “Honestly, I think he’d settle for breathing, and even that might be ambitious on his part,” Kendra said.

  “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way just for a little information.”

  “Edgar’s not dangerous, just odd. He acts chivalrous and puts on a phony British accent. And he mostly wears tweed. Besides, I think I’ll be safe enough at the muffin shop. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks, I can’t wait to hear what you discover. And, long story, but Trudy and I are talking to Linda at the candle shop tomorrow and I may have some info to share with you, too.”

  Rested and excited by the possibilities, I got busy cleaning some nooks and crannies in the theater that I’d missed earlier, then ran the vacuum and cleaned the bathroom in the apartment. I practiced my sales pitch aloud as I cleaned. Then I tried to make myself look presentable, and hopefully capable and reliable as well, before marching purposefully down the block to The Muffin Man. The morning rush was over, and I had the perfect opportunity to order a cinnamon roll and tell Zeke, the owner, my idea as he rang me up. Much to my delight—and relief—he said yes.

  Feeling empowered after my triumph at the muffin shop, I walked back to the apartment and steeled myself to make a phone call I’d been putting off for way too long. I’d only talked to my dad, and said a quick hello to my mom, once since moving to Utopia Springs. And I didn’t exactly mention that my address had changed. I called my dad’s cell phone, figuring I’d start with him and work my way up to talking to Mom.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Halley, how’s my girl? Is everything okay?”

  It’s telling of my relationship with my parents that when I call they assume something must be wrong.

  “Everything’s great, Dad. How are things there?”

  “Beautiful as always. We live in the sunshine state, after all.”

  Something to that effect was always my dad’s reply. Taking early retirement just over a year ago, moving to Florida and playing golf most days definitely agreed with my dad. Not sure it was my mom’s dream retirement, but then I have no idea what her dream retirement would be.

  “Dad, I’ve got some big news.”

  “Well, let’s hear it.”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  “I’ve moved to Utopia Springs, Arkansas. Uncle Leon passed away recently and left his second-run movie theater to me. I just reopened it as a classic film theater with a coffee and wine bar. Opening night made a big splash and has the whole town talking,” I said, which was completely true, if slightly misleading.

  There was an uncomfortable moment of silence on the other end of the line.

  “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

  “It is what I want. It’s beautiful here. The people are nice. And the business allows me to indulge two of my favorite things—old movies and coffee.”

  “Then, I’m really happy for you, Halley.”

  “If you could pass the phone to mom, I guess I should tell her the good news, too.”

  “Of course. But listen, sweetheart. Don’t be disappointed if your mom doesn’t seem excited about your news. It’s just…”

  “I know. I never do anything to please her.”

  “That’s not it. The thing is, your mom had kind of a complicated history with her family, especially Uncle Leon. That’s all.”

  I heard him call out to my mom in the next room. “Honey, Halley’s on the phone,” and a beat later, “Here’s your mom.”

  I shared the news with my mother. I couldn’t actually hear her clenching her teeth, a habit of hers, but I could tell they were clenched by how tight her words came out.

  “Halley, you’re a grown woman, and goodness knows you’d never ask for my advice. But Leon Baxter never thought of anyone but himself. Sell that theater, take the money and move as far away from there as you can. And you can think of him however you like, but please don’t refer to him as ‘Uncle Leon’ to me.”

  “Mom, whatever happened with your family, with Uncle—with Leon, maybe you could try to move past it now. He’s gone.”

  “I can’t forgive him for what he did to our family, to my dad. It broke my mother’s heart. Death doesn’t absolve people of their wrongdoing.” She started choking up.

  “Mom, please…”

  “Halley, it’s Dad. Your mom passed the phone back to me.”

  “Why can’t she just be happy for me?”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not you. I told you, it’s a complicated family thing. Good luck with the theater. I better go check on your mom. Love you.”

  I sank into the recliner sulking for a moment, my lip stuck out like a pouty two-year-old. I decided to go in the kitchen to distract myself with cooking or cleaning. But the dishes were all washed up and the only things in the fridge were beer, eggs, mayo and mustard. I popped open a beer and set about making deviled eggs while I cried.

  My lunch of deviled eggs did little to console me.

  The phone in my pocket buzzed. It was Trudy.

  “I’m on your block, passing through on an errand. Okay if I drop by?”

  “Of course, I’ll let you in through the front door.”

  I jogged down the steps and sprinted through the lobby. I peered out the front door and in a minute Trudy came into view.

  “Hey, young lady,” she said as she stepped inside. “I have some very serious business to discuss with you.” She gave me a schoolteacher look that typically meant you’re getting sent to the principal’s office.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling a surge of nerves.

  “Don’t look so worried, it’s not that serious,” she said with her trademark laugh. “I just think it’s about time you met my and George’s elite social circle—the Arts and Old Farts Bowling League. It’s artists and some other business owners, mostly geezers like us. Did you know that Utopia Springs has more artists per capita than Paris?”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know. I just made that up, but we have a lot. Over a hundred full-time artists live here, last I heard. Anyway, the other old farts are jealous that we haven’t introduced you to them. We meet once a month at the bowling alley, and tonight’s the night. You’d lower the average age of our group by a good twenty years. Please come and let George and me show you off,” she said with pleading eyes.

  “I’d be delighted to meet your friends. But…I can’t bowl.”

  “Don’t worry, neither can I. Most of the men and a couple of the women bowl, while the rest of us mostly sit in the snack bar, drinking beer and gossiping. But tonight will be a little different. It’s our league’s annual bowling tournament. So, us non-bowlers will be cheering on our favorite team, which for you and me will be George’s team—or else he’ll get cranky. Winners get a cheap plastic trophy and bragging rights, which they take very seriously. Please say you’ll come.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Yay, go team!” Trudy said rolling, then raising her arms in a cheerleader move. “Okay, hon. I’ll see you tonight about seven-thirtyish?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  After I’d let her out and locked the door behind her, I realized I was smiling. Trudy had acted like I was doing her a favor, but truth was, getting invited to bowling night so she and George could show me off to their friends had lifted my spirits.

  I arrived at the bowling alley at the edge of the main shopping district a little after seven thirty as Trudy had instructed. It wasn’t hard to find with its animated neon sign of bowling pins falling down.

  The league had the lanes at one end, near the snack bar, staked out. I spotted George, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, setting a bowling bag down at his lane. He’d brought his own bowling ball. Trudy waved me over to the snack bar, where she was bunched with a group of four or five ladies.
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br />   I said “Hi, Trudy” as I walked up, and they opened space in the huddle for me to join the circle. There were hellos and introductions all around.

  “George is cute in his Hawaiian shirt,” I said.

  “That’s his lucky bowling shirt,” Trudy said. “But he doesn’t bowl any better when he wears it.”

  “Why is it lucky then?” I asked.

  “He wore it on our honeymoon,” she said with a knowing smile, eliciting “oohs” and “I heard thats” from the group.

  “Hon, we’re gonna toss back a couple of quick beers. Once they get going, we’ll stand behind our team and yell a couple of sis-boom-bahs to show our enthusiasm,” said a woman with a raspy, deadpan voice who’d been introduced to me as Phyllis.

  Claire, a bubbly woman wearing a vintage cheerleading uniform said, “Halley, I think it would really rouse our team if you shake your pom poms.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Claire turned around for a moment, reaching into a bag, before handing me a set of actual pom poms.

  “Claire is captain of our cheerleading squad,” Trudy said, suppressing a giggle. “She and her husband own the stained glass studio near us.”

  “That’s my Arnie over there in the orthopedic bowling shoes,” Claire said, pointing out a man on George’s team before sitting down next to Phyllis at one of the tables.

  A woman whose name I didn’t quite catch returned from the snack counter with a basket of nachos, which she set down next to Claire. She pushed an adjoining table up against it and scooted chairs over to accommodate our little group.

  “I’ll get us some beers,” Trudy said, touching my arm. “Red Stone for you, right?”

  I nodded and pulled some cash out of my jeans pocket, but she waved it away.

  I sat down next to the nachos lady.

  “So sorry about your uncle, Halley. It’s sad Leon’s not here for the tournament. First time in ages,” she said, before moving on to other subjects.