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Authors: D. Savannah George

Tags: #mystery, #fiction

A Spicy Secret (14 page)

BOOK: A Spicy Secret
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“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m beat. I’m going home too. I’ll see everyone soon.”

****

A day after she’d been admitted, Gwen sat up and demanded that someone bring her supplies so she could work on her blanket. Despite being hooked up to IVs and monitors and being on painkillers, and despite her doctor’s opposition, she knitted as much as she could while awake.

John reported that she had said she was still going to do her part, even if she
was
sick.

So many cards had been sent, the board was four and five layers deep and they’d run out of pushpins.

After two days, the doctors determined Gwen to be well enough for surgery. A large group assembled in the operating room lounge to pray, and then cheered when they were told that Gwen was awake and being moved from recovery to a regular room.

Two days later, Gwen got to go home.

14

Annie and Alice had spent the rest of February focused on doing three things: First, with others they helped out Gwen around Wedgewood, the Palmers’ home, since John had to go back to work, and Gwen needed to take it easy. A week after going home, Gwen was pretty much back to normal and her cadre of volunteers were able to slowly wean themselves away from Wedgewood.

Second, Alice’s Princessa jewelry sales and parties had picked up around Valentine’s Day, but she and Annie still found time to finish getting ready for Wally to start the remodeling work on the carriage house. Alice and the Swanns had worked out an amicable resolution for the furnace issue, and it had been replaced, much to Annie’s relief. It was also much easier to help sort out clothing and haul it away when she could feel her fingers. John Palmer and the staff at the Stony Point Savings Bank had finished work on Alice’s mortgage, and now she— and the bank—would own the carriage house. All that was left was the signing of the documents and the loan closing.

The remainder of the time, Annie, Alice, and many other Stony Pointers were knitting, crocheting, and quilting frantically to meet their goal for the Blanket Haiti project.

March ushered in … absolutely nothing. It wasn’t really winter any more, but it was still too early for spring. High temperatures were only about forty degrees, and nights were still pretty cold. Snow still blanketed the Maine countryside, looking like a picture postcard, but a few cold rains along the Atlantic coastline had morphed Stony Point’s townscape into dirty snow, mud and slop. Chilly, damp winds now blew, and foliage was not yet ready to awaken.

By the first Saturday in March, Alice and Annie stood in the second-floor hallway, both of them with their hands on their hips, surveying the near-empty rooms.

“I cannot believe how much stuff we’ve thrown or given away,” Annie said.

“And I cannot believe what a huge write-off I’m going to get on my taxes this year with all my charitable donations!” Alice said.

“And I cannot believe I helped you haul everything off.”

“What do you think best friends are for?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Annie said. “What I
really
cannot believe is how much space you seem to have now. This looks twice as big as it did before.”

“I know. Just imagine how big the downstairs will look when we get done with that,” Alice said.

Annie groaned loudly for effect. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “In the flush of victory for all we’ve done, I forgot all about the downstairs. I think I just block it out whenever I walk upstairs.” The pair had moved some items into the dining room; they were using the room as temporary storage for the items Alice planned to keep. “What are you going to do about the furniture up here?”

“Wally told me not to worry about it. He and his helpers will move everything from room to room as they work on the walls and floors.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Annie said. “I know you’ll be glad when all of this work is finished,” she added, poking her friend in the shoulder.

“That’s probably true. I cannot believe how much lighter I feel already. Once we finish the downstairs, I’ll actually be able to host parties here again. I’m looking forward to that, especially since it will actually be my very own home now. Plus, some of my clients have mentioned wanting to host a party, but they don’t have the space in their homes. Everyone knows I give the best parties in town.”

“And this purging and cleaning wasn’t all bad,” Annie said. “I’ve never seen Valerie and Grace down at the library look so excited to get donations. They’ll be sorting through those books and magazines for
months.”

Alice laughed and then gave her best friend a big hug. “Now we get to do the fun part—pick out paint colors for the walls!”

****

At each Hook and Needle Club meeting, the colored-in blankets on the tracking poster inched a little higher, but it didn’t seem like they would ever be able to fill in the very last one. Even the teen club felt discouraged—they’d only finished one blanket each, and seemed a little lost without Gwen, who was still trying to take it easy after her hospital stay.

Alice persisted in making the mystery recipes, but she now tested them at home rather than bringing them to the meetings. Most of them were as bad—or worse—than the first one she’d made.

By the first Hook and Needle Club meeting in March, they’d almost reached the halfway mark—fifty-two completed blankets. Seventeen outlines on the poster sported cheery colors, and some had been signed. As they prepared to leave the meeting, Alice asked Annie if she would mind going to the bank with her.

“I’ve got a few papers to sign, and I want to ask John what he might know about the Swanns,” she said. “This mystery is truly driving me cuckoo. Why are so many of these recipes so terrible?”

“Sure, I’ll go with you,” Annie replied, wrapping her neck in a warm scarf. “I don’t know why the recipes are so bad. You know, usually we get to the bottom of our mysteries a lot quicker than this. Of course, we’ve been slammed with the Haiti project, and then with Gwen being so sick and needing surgery. What I really hate is that you have spent so much money on ingredients, only for most of it to go to waste.”

They headed down the slushy sidewalk toward the bank, being careful where they stepped. Alice’s ankle had healed, but she didn’t want to risk injuring it again.

“I’m more worried about my street cred than the money I’m spending,” Alice said.

“Street cred?” Annie asked, just as they walked past The Cup & Saucer. “I didn’t realize you had any. I’m not even sure what that is, for that matter.”

“Yeah, my street cred. You know, that hip-hop term for credibility on the street,” Alice explained. “Oh, do you care if we stop in at the diner? I want to talk to Jeff a minute, and I’d like to grab a Coke to take to John.”

“Sure,” Annie said, trailing her friend into The Cup & Saucer. She grabbed an empty chair near the front door and waited while Alice sailed to the back and cornered the owner.

“Hey Annie. Can I get you anything?” Peggy stood next to the table, her order pad at the ready.

“Not right now, Peggy. Thanks anyway. I’m just waiting while Alice talks to your boss.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Alice has been bugging him to use some of the recipes—the ones that turned out OK, of course—in the restaurant. She’s not giving up. But I’m not either, and I’ve told Jeff in no uncertain terms that he has to tell her no.”

“Why’s that? Besides the obvious?”

“Well, just because it turned out OK once doesn’t mean it will again. Plus, she’s just so insistent. And Marie’s not a fan of trying new things. What she makes works just fine, and our customers are happy. And again, we still don’t know where those recipes came from. They could belong to someone, and then we’d be stealing them by using them.”

“Wow. I hadn’t thought of that,” Annie said.

Alice breezed up, a to-go cup in one hand. “Ready?”

“After you,” Annie replied.

“See you later,” Peggy called as they went back outside.

“What did you want to talk to Jeff about?” Annie casually asked as they once more made their way down the messy sidewalk. She’d thought about Peggy’s opinion, and wondered what Alice had to say about it.

“Oh, I just want The Cup & Saucer to put a few of these recipes on the menu. But Jeff keeps saying no. And Marie won’t even talk to me.”

“At all? That doesn’t sound like Marie.” The Cup & Saucer’s cook was usually quite kind and friendly.

“Oh, yeah, she’ll talk to me,” Alice said, waving her free hand around. “She just won’t talk about the recipes. If I bring it up, she either changes the subject or flat out leaves the room. I just don’t understand.”

“Well, can you blame them, really? I mean, most of the recipes obviously aren’t complete or something. Besides that, we don’t know where they came from
.

“They came from under my floor!” Alice exclaimed, continuing to wave her hand about.

When they arrived at the bank, Annie opened the door and followed her friend in. Allison, John’s assistant, waved them over and offered them each a seat.

“John’s on a phone call, but he said he’d be right out.”

“Thanks, Allison!” Alice said.

A few minutes later, John came out and asked Allison to hold his calls. He then ushered Annie and Alice into his office and shut the door, gesturing for them to have a seat at his desk as he flipped open a file folder.

“I brought this for you,” Alice said, handing him the cup.

He immediately unwrapped the straw, shoved it through the lid, and took a big swallow.

“Aaaah. Thanks, I needed that. Since Gwen’s health scare, I’m pretty sure I’ve drunk more Coke than I previously had in my entire life. I’ll have to wean myself off eventually.”

“How is Gwen?” Annie piped up. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

“She’s doing fine, thank the good Lord,” John said. “I’m glad people are still visiting her. She’s so used to being active, and Dr. Barnett told her to rest so her body can heal and her immune system can get stronger.” He took another swig of the Coke. “All the visitors distract her and keep her from doing too much.”

He opened the folder, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed Alice a blue pen.

“Anyway, thanks for stopping by, Alice. Here are the final loan papers for your signature. Of course, there will be more to sign when we do the actual closing, which we are trying to schedule for the 20th, but it’s going to be a little tricky since the Swanns won’t be able to come here to sign their portion. I’ll be sending the paperwork to a partner bank for them to take care of that end.”

Alice had known the Swanns, who lived in New York, probably wouldn’t be able to make the trip. “Sounds complicated,” she said.

“A little, but we’ll get it worked out. Now, sign here … and here ….”

Annie zoned out while John pointed out places to sign and answered Alice’s questions. After handling the bookkeeping for the GM dealership back in Texas all those years, Annie had decided she wanted nothing more to do with financial information. At least, as little as she could help it.

“That’s all we need for now. I’ll let you know when I hear a final date for closing. But for now, congrats on almost owning your home!” John said after what seemed like hours, but had probably only been a few minutes.

“Thank you ever so much, John. You have no idea how appreciative I am of your help,” Alice replied. “But I have another question. Has Gwen mentioned our mystery?”

“Yes, she has.” He leaned his chair back and drained the last of the soda, throwing the cup in the trash can. “Something about some recipes you found in the carriage house?”

“Yes. Handwritten recipes, in a mason jar, hidden under a floorboard of what used to be the main bedroom, and that I now use as my guestroom. Mary Beth said she remembers that the Swanns only stayed in Stony Point during the summer, and that the food at their parties could be kind of—well, different.”

John laughed. “Yes, the food they served could definitely be called different. I think it came from living in New York most of the year. They could be very adventurous when it came to food.”

“You don’t think they would have hidden the recipes, do you?” Annie asked.

“Probably not—and definitely not handwritten ones. Yvonne especially was very fastidious about her cookbooks. She even retyped the ones she collected and had them organized in a binder.”

Alice sighed. “So I guess we’re looking for someone who lived there when Captain Grey was alive.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, moving his chair forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Before they stopped coming down during the summer—right before you moved in, Alice—the Swanns occasionally rented out the carriage house during the winter. Best I can recall, the renters were families whose husbands either worked on boats or assisted with the renovation of Butler’s Lighthouse. The women tended to work at the library or in one of the shops.”

“I wonder if one of those families may have left the recipes?” Alice said.

“It’s certainly possible,” John said. “Why haven’t you contacted the Swanns directly and asked them?”

“Well, I haven’t wanted to mess something up in the negotiations by getting in touch with them,” Alice replied. “After all, I’ve never really dealt with them directly, just their management company, and I’ve only met them the one time.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” John told her. He went to his desk, looked up the Swanns’ number and jotted it on the back of one of his business cards, which he then handed to Alice. “I’m sure they won’t mind hearing from you, especially now that we’ve worked everything out.”

Allison knocked on the door and poked her head in. “John, I know you said to hold your calls, but Gwen says she needs to speak with you.”

John shook hands with Alice and Annie. “Pardon me, ladies, for kicking you out, but the real boss calleth.”

****

Malone’s Hardware Store stayed open late on Thursday nights, and Ian and Annie had arranged to stop by after Town Hall closed to look through copies of
The Point
. They’d been meaning to do so for about a month, but had been unable to coordinate their schedules.

“Hey you two,” Mike said, pulling on his left ear. Annie had noticed he did that when he was thinking. “Go on back and help yourself. My morgue is your morgue,” he added with a laugh, using the newspaper term for the room containing previous editions, photos and notes on stories. “Thankfully, it’s a lot neater and more organized than it used to be. Fiona and Greg spent a lot of time back there.”

“We will have to thank your lovely wife and your reporter for doing all that the work,” Ian said as he and Annie walked into the back room.

“This is definitely neater than the last time I tried to dig for clues in here,” Annie said, looking around the crowded space. Copies of the newspaper had been stacked on shelves rather than flung about any which way, and the shelves had labels with dates neatly printed on them.

“It really is,” Ian agreed. “Someday I’d like to have everything archived electronically so it can easily be used for research. Plus, these pages hold the history of Stony Point. I’ve done some preliminary research on getting that done, and it will be expensive. So, for now it will just have to be a long-term goal.”

BOOK: A Spicy Secret
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