Bun for Your Life (2 page)

Ms. Calista Danforth-Brody, owner of Danforth Orchards, declined to comment, except to say she is no longer dating Mr. Hamilton.

When the Jandellas were asked if they would entertain Mr. Hamilton's claims that he had proof the apple came from his land, they replied they were satisfied that it came from Danforth land and planned to take out a restraining order against him. Mr. Hamilton said he wasn't through. Restraining order or not, he was going to prove the apple belonged to his family.

I gasped. “Oh my God! He threatened to kill them?” Looks like I'd been right; Trey's interest in Calista did have to do with her new apple. He always seemed nice enough. What had gotten into him? The article went on to say that Calista claimed she had found the chance seedling right inside the border of her orchard while she was riding one of her horses. An extension agent from the nearby state university had the university's genetics lab confirm the parents of the apple most likely to be Macoun and Cripps Pink. Calista got a patent on the Calista Sugar Pink, then licensed it to Jandella Nursery for breeding and distribution.

Why Calista had fallen under Trey's romantic spell, and what she'd seen in him, weren't addressed in the article, and I wasn't about to go knock on her front door and ask. Their romance appeared to be over, so what did it matter now?

Trey and his family would kill to be the center of attention like Calista was because of the Calista Sugar Pink. The Danforth Orchards had always been larger, more popular, and more profitable than the Hamilton Orchards. The Hamiltons were jealous not only of the Danforths' successful orchard, but of all their wealth. Not that the Hamiltons were poor by any stretch of your, or my, imagination.

Calista's new apple was making its official debut at the Apple Harvest Fair in a couple of weeks. It would be the first time anyone in the public had seen or tasted it, and our town was all abuzz about it. Even major New York City newspapers had picked up stories about it.

“I know! I can't believe Trey would do something like that,” Olivia declared. “I think I'd be more than a little nervous if I were Calista or the Jandellas. What if Trey decides to carry out his threats? Next time it could be a real gun.”

I nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Sounds like he's losing it, that's for sure. This won't be good for his business, or his reputation.” I tossed the paper down. Soon, Olivia and I were busy with customers. I forgot all about Trey and Calista.

Three weeks later, Olivia and I were in the back of Bread and Batter getting our doughnuts and cupcakes ready for the Apple Harvest Fair when the bell on the front door jingled.

“I should have locked the door. Guess the CLOSED sign isn't clear enough. I thought everyone would be at the fair by now.” Olivia stopped packing the last box of jumbo-sized cider doughnuts—a favorite among the fair people.

“You would think, wouldn't you?” I motioned for her to keep packing. “I'll see who it is.” I made my way out to the front.

Calista Danforth-Brody stood in the middle of the floor, arms akimbo, looking like she wanted to skin someone alive. “I was just about to yell for someone. I'm glad you're still here. I have something important to discuss.”

“Hi, Calista. We won't be here for long, and we're closed, as you can see.” I pointed at the sign in the window. “If you want a doughnut come over to our booth. We'll be over there in a few minutes. We're boxing up all the doughnuts and cupcakes now. Shouldn't you be getting ready for the fair yourself? Congratulations on the Calista Sugar Pink, by the way.”

“I am not here for doughnuts,” she informed me in a haughty voice, ignoring my congratulations. No one does haughty like she does, I'll give her that. “I'm here about your booth.”

“What about it?” I couldn't imagine what she had to say about our booth.

She blinked, then ogled me as if I were the town dunce. “Really? It's set up right in the middle of Main. That's always been the Danforth Orchards space, Molly. You know that. I want it back. Everyone that comes to the fair stops by. It's been tradition since the fair's existed. You can't move my location. Would you move the Liberty Bell? The Statue of Liberty? The Grand Canyon?”

I bit down on my tongue before I laughed at her drama. Don't get me started on her clipped boarding school accent. I don't know where that came from, since she's lived here her entire life.

I started to reply, but she kept on going, her arms now gesturing wildly. “I can't believe I had to stuff all my gorgeous apples, my homemade jams in their cute little jars, and my delicious pies into that tiny booth—excuse me,
box
—I was given. The Calista Sugar Pink is debuting today.”

I waited until I was sure she was finished. “I'm aware of that, as you know, but what can I do?” With considerable effort, I flashed my friendliest smile. “I didn't move your location; that's the space I was assigned. And Olivia and I already have our booth filled with mugs, souvenir tote bags, and T-shirts. I'm sure you'll be fine where you are.”

“I'm sure you find this
très
amusing. You know very well there's been some mistake. My space is in front of Bootleg Sam's, for God's sake,” she huffed. “The people going in there are not interested in apples, or my jams and pies, believe me. Whatever it is that you've got in your booth, I'll help you move it.” Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Or do you want to keep it because Brian's booth is right next door?”

“Uh . . . no,” I replied, my heartbeat kicking up a notch. “That has nothing to do with it.”

Except for six months when I studied in London while in my senior year of college, I've lived in this town my entire life. I know almost everyone and they know me, which can be terrifying or comforting; it can go either way. That includes Calista. She and I also belong to the same Destiny Women's Book Club, whose name should really be changed to Relationship Therapy and Maybe-We'll-Read-a-Book Club. We all spend as much time discussing relationships we used to be in, wanted to be in, or wanted to be out of as we do on the books we picked to read.

So of course that means Calista knows all about my marriage and divorce from Brian, as well as my on-and-off feelings for him. I should really learn to be less open about my life. Hard to do in a small town.

I gave Calista what I hoped was an intimidating glare, so she realized I had no intention of backing down. “The Apple Harvest Fair Committee assigned the booth spaces months ago, as you know. Why didn't you complain then? Why would you wait until today?”

“I didn't think I had anything to complain about. I just found out a little while ago that my booth wasn't where it's always been.”

I wasn't backing down. “I happen to like my space; it'll be great PR for the bakery. If you'd said something before now maybe I'd have agreed to switch. But I'm sorry, Calista, I'm not moving.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Keep your space. I cannot believe you're being so unreasonable. Nobody cares about your silly T-shirts. That space is mine. I'm telling all my friends to stay away from here.” She smiled and looked down her aristocratic nose at me.

“I think I saw a mouse scurry across your dirty floor. Or maybe it was a rat. I'll have to call the Department of Health. They'll close you right down, and I'll make sure it's for good. You can't do this to me and get away with it.” She marched over to where our T-shirts and mugs were displayed and snatched up a red T-shirt. “I can use another dust rag.” She stalked to the door and yanked it opened, almost colliding with a man who was reaching for the doorknob on the other side. Not bothering to excuse herself, or to move aside so he could come in, she took off, her long legs eating up the sidewalk.

I was right behind her. What nerve! Stealing one of our T-shirts. “There aren't mice in here! You could eat off this floor! Dirty, my . . . You shouldn't have waited so long to figure out you didn't like where your booth was being set up!” I yelled at her retreating back, but my retort was mostly blocked by the guy who was still in the doorway, intently listening to our exchange.

“What's going on out here?” Olivia appeared from the back. “Who are you yelling at?”

“Calista,” I explained, sounding calmer than I felt. “She's bent out of shape about our booth space being better than hers. She'll get over it. And she stole a T-shirt!”

Olivia made a face. “Oh, honestly, that woman! Yeah, she'll get over it. Let her have the T-shirt. I'm just glad she's gone.”

I fixated on the man, whom I didn't recognize, and who apparently didn't understand what the word CLOSED on our
sign meant, either. I stepped back, took a deep breath, and managed a smile. “I'm sorry, we're closed.”

He came in anyway. I clearly needed to work on my skill at projecting authority. “I saw activity through the window and thought maybe you forgot to flip the sign to OPEN. I guess getting a cup of coffee to go is out of the question. Everything okay here?” He jutted his chin toward the front door. “That woman seemed pretty upset with you.”

I dismissed his concern with a wave of my hand. “Oh, she'll be fine. She hates not getting her way, that's all. I'll get your coffee, but then you'll have to go, sorry. The fair is officially starting in a half hour. We still need to get our doughnuts and cupcakes there.”

“It looks like the fair is a big deal.” He took the cup I offered him.

I was surprised he'd never heard of our town's fair. People came from all over to visit it on Halloween. “It is. I take it you aren't from around here.”

“Not originally. I moved to town last week.”

“Ah. That explains it. The Apple Harvest Fair takes up all of Main Street. I think you'll like it. Now if you'll excuse me, we really need to go.”

He put his cup down on the counter and stuck a hand in one of the pockets of his jeans. “How much do I owe you?”

I shook my head. “Don't worry about it. Welcome to Destiny. Enjoy the fair, and make sure you come by our booth for some doughnuts, or a souvenir.” I smiled at him. “But they won't be free. Look for the Bread and Batter Bakery banner.”

He nodded without smiling back. “Thanks for the coffee. Maybe I will.”

I watched as he ambled out the door, then made his way down the sidewalk. I turned toward Olivia. “We'd better . . . What's wrong with you? Close your mouth.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? What is it?” I twirled in a circle, my eyes fastening on our red and white square tiled floor, thinking Olivia had truly seen a mouse.

“That guy. He was gorgeous. Wow. Wonder what his story is?”

I was so upset with Calista, I hadn't really thought about what he looked like. Now that Olivia mentioned it, he had been rather nice-looking. Medium height; muscular, broad shoulders; sun-lightened, short, spikey-ish brown hair; masculine, square jaw with maybe a day's worth of stubble.

I guess I had noticed after all. Hard to see his eyes, though—he never took his sunglasses off. “Who knows? I do know we need to get moving to our booth. I want to make sure Calista hasn't hijacked it out from under us.”

Calista wasn't a bad person, and I actually didn't dislike her (too much), despite what you just heard. I knew she wasn't going to tell her friends to stay away. And I was mostly sure she wasn't going to call the Department of Health.

“I hope we have enough,” Olivia said.

I glanced at the boxes of cupcakes and doughnuts that we had brought out earlier surrounding our feet. I stifled a yawn. We'd both been baking since three in the morning. “We have plenty for at least a few hours. One of us can come back for
more later if we have to. Let's get going, I don't want to miss the parade.”

Our booth would be right next to the corn dogs and tiny-taters-on-a-stick booth (no, I'm not kidding), so we were in good shape; people could pick up their corn dogs and tiny taters, then come to us for dessert and a commemorative Destiny, New York, item.

Contrary to what Calista thought, I was not too thrilled about the booth on our left being the Addair Funeral Home booth. Not only because I have no idea why a funeral home needs a booth at a fair—being the only funeral home in town, it's not like they have to drum up business—but because I was still a little miffed that Brian was kicking me out because Lola didn't like us being so close.

What next? Was she going to hire a posse to run me out of town altogether? Never mind the fact that I was in one of my I-think-I-love-Brian periods again.

Olivia and I loaded the boxes of our baked goods into the backseat and trunk of my car. It was a gorgeous, sunny fall day, with the kind of sky that's so clear and blue it almost hurts your eyes to look at it. I loved the mingled red, oranges, and yellows of the fall leaves. I drove the couple of blocks to Main Street and parked behind Chambers Furniture Store, the assigned lot for those of us with booths.

By the time Olivia and I had finished arranging everything in our booth, there was already a big crowd gathering behind the barricades at either end of Main Street, eager for the festivities to begin. In a few minutes, the barricades would be gone and people would line the sidewalks waiting for the parade. We opened up the beach chairs we'd brought along, but God willing, we'd be too busy to do much sitting.

I peeked into Brian's stand and was glad not to see any gleaming caskets, designer cremation urns, cremation jewelry, or the latest embalming equipment on display. The colorful brochures he had out on burial versus cremation and prepaying for your funeral were depressing enough. What was I to say to my customers? “Beautiful day, isn't it? Have a cupcake with sprinkles, then let's go next door and plan your funeral!”

He also had an assortment of free pens, key chains, and jar openers, which were just a little less macabre than the brochures. The tote bags with the Addair Funeral Home name and logo on them in bright, bold, yellow letters I thought were a little over-the-top.

People began buying our doughnuts and cupcakes, then hurrying to their posts on the sidewalk to watch the starting ceremonies. Olivia and I leaned out toward the street as far as we could when we heard the drums start.

First came the high school bands, then the police and fire departments, the Elks (or Masons; I couldn't tell which), then the military bands. Next came people on horseback, men on tractors, the Boy Scouts, the Girl Scouts, the bed races, and the coffin races—complete with T-shirts proclaiming the
Fourth Annual Coffin Races, Destiny, NY
. I'd have to buy one later.

Finally, the floats from various businesses, each more outrageous and colorful than the previous. My favorite parade participant was the Destiny Kilts Pipe and Drum Band, which had nothing to do with Brian being in it playing his bagpipes. It did, however, have everything to do with him being in it wearing one of his kilts.

Today his choice was his red Royal Stewart. Despite the fact that we were divorced, and he had Lola in his life, the sight of him in a kilt, heavy white knee socks, and black combat boots still made me weak. Nothing says sexy like a man confident enough to wear a kilt. With knee socks. Great legs don't hurt, and Brian definitely had those. He never looked more masculine than when he wore a kilt. He wore one on our wedding day. And our wedding night, but that's another story.

Olivia and I were busy for most of the parade selling our wares. I loved seeing everyone in town coming together for this event. Every year it's pretty much the same food, crafts, parade, and rides, but I never tire of it.

The best part is the crowning of the Apple Harvest Fair Queen and her princesses, which takes place as the last float disappears. It was no surprise that Calista was crowned Queen, because of the Calista Sugar Pink. I had to admit she looked regal giving the royal wave while sitting on the backseat of Blake Ellsworth's pride and joy: a fully restored, gleaming turquoise 1958 Chevrolet Impala convertible.

Oh yes, Blake was Calista's current boyfriend, or so the Destiny rumor mill proclaimed. Another
What's up with that?
Maybe she was just ready to jump in the dating pool. Her husband had been dead for over a year. Or maybe my
What's up with that?
stemmed from a little jealousy because I didn't have men knocking my door down to go out with me. At least no one worth discussing here, or showing off in public during daylight.