A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) (2 page)

The next day was yet another beautiful, uncharacteristically warm one.

After another unsuccessful morning of job-hunting, Clarissa was stressed.  To unwind - and because it was on her chore list – she decided to spend the afternoon gardening.  It was getting to be that time of year when snow could hit at any time.  Minnesotans knew the unpredictability of winter better than anyone.  So Clarissa figured she had better take advantage of the sunshine and mild temperatures while she could.

Her normally immaculate garden had been neglected for a few weeks.

Once Clarissa had finally accepted the harsh reality that her job was gone for good, she hadn’t felt like gardening.  She hadn’t felt like doing much of anything except moping around.  Then anger had set in.  She had alternated between sadness and rage for a while, during which time many boxes of chocolate chip cookies had been consumed. 

Then she had picked herself back up and tried to figure out her next move.

She was still working on that.

Some days she still couldn’t believe her career had been yanked right out from under her.

Everyone had assumed she would have her job back in no time, Clarissa included.

Clarissa had been a journalist.  Although living in a small town where not much happened meant she had to write a lot of fluff pieces, she had nonetheless loved her work.  It had been her dream job...until the dream had come to an abrupt end.

When the local newspaper had been shut down, it had caught everyone by surprise.  One day Clarissa had been gainfully employed and the next she had been out of a job.  That had been a bitter pill to swallow.  But she’d had every reason to believe her office closure was temporary and she would soon be back at work.

The Sugarcomb Lake Gazette was a small newspaper with a focus on local attractions and events.  It had been a staple in the community for decades.  But the tiny newspaper hadn’t been able to compete with The Green City Chronicle. 

The big city newspaper had bought the Gazette out.  That had been the beginning of the end.

It had also been when Clarissa’s garden had become overgrown and neglected. 

The Chronicle was owned by Elwood Tweed, a rich businessman with questionable ethics.  Immediately after purchasing the Gazette, he had shut it down citing restructuring issues.  Clarissa and her co-workers had trusted that after a week or two of unpaid vacation, they would be back at work. 

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened.

One week off had turned into two…and then three…and then four…

There had been promises of the office re-opening.  Eager to get back to the job she loved, Clarissa had faithfully waited.  She had lived on her savings in the meantime, grateful that she had them to fall back on. 

Then her co-workers had started grumbling about being misled.  At first Clarissa hadn’t wanted to believe it.  But one by one, her co-workers had moved on and found new jobs – and some had even attempted to take legal action against Elwood Tweed.

His big city lawyers had quickly put a stop to that.  Apparently his team had exploited some silly loophole.  While what he had done had been unethical and underhanded, technically he hadn’t broken any labor laws.  He had shut down the small town newspaper and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do about it.

The Gazette, a long-time and much-beloved part of the community, was gone. 

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

At first residents of Sugarcomb Lake had been indignant on Clarissa and her co-workers’ behalf.  There had been a small but mighty public outcry and calls to boycott Elwood Tweed and The Green City Chronicle.  At first, Clarissa had felt like she had support.

But then news of Sarah Anderson’s lurid affair had hit the town gossip circuit.  Apparently the prim and proper minister’s wife wasn’t so prim and proper after all!  The small town had been abuzz with news about
that
discovery for a good week.  Actually, Sarah Anderson’s name was still spoken in hushed whispers at the coffee shop on a rather regular basis.

After that, there had been talk about the mayor’s intern getting into some hot water.  Photos of him at a drunken frat party in Green City had surfaced on social media, causing all the prissy middle aged ladies in town to clutch their pearls and cluck in disgust.  Clarissa had thanked her lucky stars social media hadn’t been an integral part of
her
college experience!

The third tidbit of gossip had been something about a vandalism spree.  Technically, Clarissa wasn’t sure if one could consider it a “spree” when the sole victim had been Mrs. Meddler, the town’s crankiest and most impossible resident.  The infuriating old woman’s house had been rather meticulously covered in toilet paper.  Clarissa had driven by to check it out for herself and had been rather impressed with the precision of the prankster or pranksters.

The point was, bit by bit, everyone had forgotten about the Gazette. 

People moved on, opting to subscribe to the Chronicle or get news online.  As for local goings on, there was always the coffee shop on Main Street.  It was more of a rumor mill than an actual source of accurate information, but for many people it scratched an itch.  So one way or another, life returned to normal for the residents of Sugarcomb Lake in the absence of the Gazette.

But life was far from normal for Clarissa, who was currently unemployed and struggling to find her place in the world.  Being a journalist was her calling.  She was sure of it.  But now there was no opportunity to pursue her dream career – at least not in her quirky, charming hometown. 

The thought of being forced to move away was gut-wrenching. 

Clarissa still felt foolish for being so gullible.  Elwood Tweed had strung her along and she had fallen for his lies.  To be fair, the reason she had been so trusting was that her former employer had been nothing but true to his word.  The harsh realization that the world didn’t always operate that way had stung.

But it was time to stop moping and do something productive.

Clarissa still wasn’t sure where she was headed professionally.  She wasn’t ready to give up her career
or
bid farewell to Sugarcomb Lake.  That left her in a tough situation.

But there was one thing that was under her control:  the weeds in her garden.

So now she was outside tackling the mess that was her yard.  She’d been at it for hours, as the lawn was overgrown and covered in leaves, the bushes needed pruning and the weeds were getting away from her.

Much to her relief, the gardening hadn’t been excruciating. 

On the contrary, it had been rather therapeutic.

There was something so relaxing about just quietly enjoying nature.  The fresh scent of grass and the feel of soft, rich soil between her fingers made Clarissa happy.  Actually, the act of gardening itself was almost like meditating.  It was exactly what she had needed.

Clarissa lost track of the time. 

Eventually she looked up and noticed the sun was setting.  Had she really been outside for that long?  It was hard to believe.  But when she stood up and felt how stiff her joints were, that was all the proof she needed.  She had indeed been outside for the entire afternoon!

Looking around, Clarissa felt a sense of pride at all she had accomplished.  The yard was virtually weed-free, the grass was cut, the hedges were trimmed and the rose bushes had been pruned.  Despite it being late in the season, the marigolds were still in full bloom, bright and cheerful in hues of orange and yellow along the pathway leading up to the quaint old house.

All of a sudden, Clarissa was exhausted.  She wasn’t used to marathon gardening sessions!  She absentmindedly tried to estimate how many calories she might have burned, but her brain wasn’t interested in getting a workout. 

She decided she would reward herself with a box of chocolate chip cookies and call it a day.  That seemed reasonable, right?  Okay, fine, half a box.   Realistically, though, Clarissa knew half a box always turned into the whole box. 

If she didn’t soon learn some willpower, she would have to take up jogging.

Ugh, the mere thought of jogging made Clarissa want to fall over!  In fact, she nearly did fall over when she tried to bend down to gently brush a ladybug off her boot.

“Ouch!” Clarissa gasped, clutching her stiff, sore back.  “I hate exercise.”  If she could somehow convince Liana to push her around town in a wheelbarrow she would be all set, ready to live out the rest of her days like an Egyptian queen.

Except she was pretty there would be no brawny, handsome young men to feed her grapes by hand.  And riding around in a wheelbarrow wouldn’t really be very glamorous or Cleopatra-like. 

But still, shoving fistfuls of cookies into her mouth while being hauled around in a wheelbarrow beat walking!

With a sigh, Clarissa admitted to herself that Liana would never agree to make her twisted fantasy a reality.  If anything, her best friend would simply thrust a giant cup of coffee at her and tell her to toughen up. 

To make matters worse, Clarissa’s wheelbarrow was currently full of soil, finished plants and various other things destined for the garbage dump.  It wasn’t exactly inviting.  Actually, the thought of climbing into the wheelbarrow was pretty gross.

“Who wants to ride around in a chariot of filth?” Clarissa murmured under her breath. 

Even she had her limits!  So fine, it appeared she was simply going to have to walk.  Oh, life was cruel.  Why did the box of cookies have to be all the way in the house?  Next time she gardened she would have to plan that better...

Clarissa limped up the front steps.  Then she took a seat on the porch swing on the veranda. 

“Oof,” she grunted, sitting down with a thud.  Not even the lure of cookies could entice her to take another step.  That was how she knew she was really, really beat.  Every inch of her body hurt.  She had definitely overdone it.

Her long dark hair was a tangled, unruly mess and her button up work shirt was drenched with sweat.  She was achy and sore but satisfied.  A hard day’s work was good for the soul...or so Clarissa’s mother had always claimed when she had wanted Clarissa’s help with the chores!

Clarissa was looking forward to having a long, well-deserved soak in the tub – while eating cookies, of course.  But first she needed to muster up the energy to stand up and go inside.  She would try to talk her body into cooperating soon.  For now, she was content to stay right where she was.  The less energy she had to expend, the better.

“Meow.”

When Clarissa heard that familiar noise, she didn’t dare look down.  In fact, she stared straight ahead and pretended she hadn’t heard a thing.  Maybe doing so would make that darn cat finally give up and go away once and for all.

But Clarissa ought to have known better than that.

Cats were, by nature, almost as stubborn as she was.  They didn’t give up until they got what they wanted.  She just wished she could figure out what this particular cat was after.  Why did it keep coming back to her place day after day instead of seeking out someone who actually wanted its company?

“Hey!” Clarissa exclaimed in surprise as the cat suddenly launched itself into her lap.

The little black furred creature head-butted her chin rather violently.  One would think doing so would hurt the cat’s head, but it seemed unfazed.  Apparently that old tongue-in-cheek expression was true:  no sense, no feeling. 

“I don’t have any more meatballs in the fridge, if that’s what you’re after,” Clarissa said. 

“Meow,” the cat argued, almost sounding as if it was talking back.

“You ate all the meatballs yesterday, remember?  And you turned your nose up at everything else I offered you, so you can’t be that hungry.  Besides, you can’t keep hanging around here.  Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

The cat looked up at her.

Against her better judgment, Clarissa scratched behind the cat’s ears.  When the little creature began to purr, she scratched some more.  Maybe she wasn’t a Cat Person, but she wasn’t a monster either.  If the insufferable little beast wanted affection, who was she to deny it?

Then, without warning, the cat batted at Clarissa’s silver charm bracelet.

“Hey!  Cat!  Stop doing that before you break it,” Clarissa commanded, pulling her arm away.  Then she examined the bracelet thoughtfully.  “I can’t believe I forgot to take this off before doing all that yard work,” she told her uninvited companion conversationally. “That was dumb.”

The cat went after the bracelet again.  It must have liked the way it jingled or something, because it seemed pretty fascinated – not to mention determined.  Its pupils had gotten wide and its tail was bushy with excitement as it plotted against the inanimate object.  Even its nostrils were flaring with anticipation as it gave the bracelet an unnerving death stare.

Cats were rather psychopathic when you got right down to it.

Clarissa took the bracelet off and set it aside so the cat would stop treating it like prey.

“Ouch,” Clarissa said as the cat head-butted her yet again.  She looked down at it and felt an unexpected pang of – what, fondness toward it?  That was certainly unexpected!  But the darn thing
was
being awfully sweet...for a cat.