Bun for Your Life (3 page)

After Blake's car came the Jandella Orchard truck, bushel baskets on its flatbed filled with Calista Sugar Pink apples. It was quite exciting. How often can you say you know someone who discovered a new variety of apple? Even if it is Calista; I'm not one to be petty. Our little town would be semi-famous. At least in upstate New York. I was looking forward to sampling one of her new apples myself.

I realized Olivia and I hadn't seen Trey all day. I couldn't exactly blame him for not showing up at the fair. People had been giving him a wide berth after hearing about his tirade against the Jandellas. He was lucky we had all been so forgiving, or too scared out of our wits to call him on his boorish behavior. His brothers had manned their orchard's booth, and it looked like they had had plenty of customers regardless. I glanced up, hoping Trey wasn't perched in a tree with a slingshot or, God forbid, a real gun aimed at the Jandellas or Calista. Or Olivia and me, for some reason.

My eyes quickly scanned the happy crowd, but I still didn't see him. I did see the guy who had been at my bakery earlier. “Look.” I nudged Olivia. “There's that guy. Who comes to a fair alone?”

“Didn't he say he just moved here? He probably doesn't know anyone yet. I thought he'd come by our booth.”

I nodded. “Me too.” I was about to wave to him, but when I looked back to where I'd seen him, he was gone.

The appearance of Calista's apple was a huge success, judging from the crowd's roaring reaction as Blake's car and the Jandella Orchard truck passed by. You'd have thought Prince William and Kate Middleton were prancing down Main Street. And in the end, Olivia and I didn't do so badly, either. We sold every cupcake, doughnut, tote bag, T-shirt, and mug we had brought. Once our booth was cleaned up so the committee could dismantle it, we walked to Calista's booth, then had to stand in line for forty-five minutes just to buy a bag of Calista Sugar Pinks from one of her orchard's employees.

I felt a little guilty now about not letting her have our booth space, but she had a huge crowd anyway, so I pushed the
guilt aside. As Olivia and I walked back to my car, I took a bite of one of the apples. It was like biting into sweet heaven. Blemish-free pink skin, firm white flesh, juicier than an orange, and sweeter than honey. Calista had really hit the jackpot. I'd never tasted anything so good. I'd have to congratulate her again.

Sadly, I'd never have the chance. Two weeks later, our Apple Harvest Fair Queen was found dead.

The afternoon of the day on which Calista died, I came home from the bakery to find a man in my bedroom. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a head full of wavy hair. I put him at about eighty-five or so (all that hair was snow white), which is why I didn't immediately scream and take off running for my life. He was holding my pink lace curtains up and away from the window. I cleared my throat.

He whipped around, then, after a few seconds, gave me a wide smile. “Hello there. Ed McCray. You must be Molly Tyler. Mr. Addair . . . Brian told me you'd be here soon.”

I shook his hand and smiled back. “Yes, I'm Molly. Pleased to meet you.”

“Sorry to intrude like this; hope you'll forgive me being in your bedroom. Brian said I could look at this apartment since you'll be moving. He's below, in the garage.” He looked puzzled. “Not sure why you'd want to move. It's very nice.”

He didn't seem the type to have pawed through my underwear drawer, so I decided not to be too upset at Brian for giving him free reign of my living quarters. “It is. I've loved living here. I just need a bigger place,” I lied, silently asking God to forgive me. I couldn't tell him the real reason I had to move. It sounded ridiculous.

“You'll be taking these curtains?”

I chuckled at the look on his face. “Yes. Don't worry. All the furniture's mine, and it's all going.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That's good. A little frilly and ladylike for my taste. I've already decided to take the apartment. At my age, living above a funeral home's garage has its advantages.” He sobered. “My wife died a couple of years ago, and our house is just too big for me. I've got it up for sale. Realtor thinks it'll go fast.”

“I'm so sorry about your wife,” I said sympathetically. “Good luck with your house.”

“Thank you. We had a good life. She gave me five sons. They all said I could move in with them, but I told them, ‘Hell no.' Last thing I want is to be someone's responsibility. They've got their own lives. I still have mine.” His eyes twinkled. “I may even get remarried one day. They have matchmaking organizations for seniors now.”

I grinned at him. “I'm sure any woman would be lucky to have you, Mr. McCray.”

He laughed. “You can call me Ed. Don't know about lucky, I'm pretty set in my ways. But I'm easy to get along with and not too fussy about what I eat. I've even been known to pick up a dust rag now and then, or wash a dish. Don't care for vacuuming or ironing, though.”

“I avoid ironing at all costs.”

He laughed. “Then we wouldn't make a good pair, but you're too young anyhow. Nothing more asinine than an old man out with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. Enough of my jabbering. You got a date you're moving out yet? So we can coordinate. Not trying to rush you, but this place is perfect for me. I'm telling Brian to pull his ad, I'm moving in.”

“I have an appointment to look at a place early this evening. Hopefully, it's in move-in shape and I can get in right
away. It's on the side of town where the college is, so I pray the other tenants aren't rowdy, partying college kids. I need my eight hours of sleep.”

He peered at me through wire-rimmed glasses. “You can't be more than college-age yourself.”

I smiled. What a charmer. “Thanks. I'm twenty-eight.”

He threw his head back and guffawed. “I've got shoes older than you. Maybe some shirts, too, that I managed to hide from my wife during one of her I'm-getting-rid-of-everything binges. Good luck, Molly. I hope it's just what you want.”

*  *  *

I pulled into the driveway of the sprawling, dark brick Victorian. It was partially hidden behind two giant fir trees, but I could see lots of windows and a couple of turret roofs. There was even a small stained glass window on the second floor. I loved Victorians. This was my dream house. At least from the outside. I stepped out of my car, went up to the front door, and knocked.

“Hello there,” the woman who answered a few minutes later greeted me. She was on the thin side and maybe an inch shorter than my five feet six. She wore her gray hair like a cap of curls on her head. “You must be Molly. I'm Dorothy Rose Brand. Dottie, to everyone. Come in, come in.”

She stepped aside so I could enter. The smell of apples and cinnamon filled my nose. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Brand. Smells delicious in here. Apple pie?”

She wiped her hands on her apron and beamed. “I insist you call me Dottie. Yes. I got some of those new Calista Sugar Pink apples at the fair. Still got plenty left. Pure perfection. I'll have to get more. Would you like some pie and a glass of milk? I've got vanilla ice cream, too.”

I smiled and opened my mouth to say “bring it on,” then wavered, thinking of my snug size six jeans. “No, but thank you.”

She patted my arm. “Let me know if you change your mind. Now, you called about the apartment. When do you want to move? It's empty, and I've been eager to have a tenant move in to it. It's all ready for you.”

“Saturday? Right now, I'm living in the garage apartment over Addair Funeral Home.”

“That would be wonderful.” Her face clouded over. “Oh, yes. Jane Addair and I used to be close friends before her dementia set in. She was always my partner in our bridge club. I miss her. I used to visit her occasionally, but it was so hard. Most days she didn't even know who I was. I'll start again. I don't want to desert her.”

“I know. It's really sad. I was married to her grandson, Brian.”

“I know you! Or at least, of you. Jane adored you. Your mom's the library director, isn't she?”

“Yes, she is.”

“I'm at the library every week. I'm so glad they'll be expanding it. Come. Let me show you the apartment. It's simply darling. Hardwood floors, two big bedrooms, tiled bathroom, and a nice new stove and refrigerator. I live here, as you can
see.” She grabbed a set of keys from a bowl sitting on a table in the hallway. “The house is really too big for me, but I can't give it up. I decided to section it off, so I'd have two apartments to rent. We'll have to go outside and in one of the doors at the side of the house in order for me to show you the apartment. It's upstairs. You are okay with stairs, aren't you?”

“I'm fine with stairs,” I replied, then followed Dottie out the front door and around the corner of the house. I waited as she unlocked a door facing the side lawn. I loved the quaint wraparound porch with its Gingerbread trim.

“The gentleman in the other apartment moved in recently himself,” she explained. “He has a separate entrance, right there.” She nodded to a door to our right, which faced the street. His apartment is upstairs, too. Don't worry, these walls are thick, you won't hear him at all.”

I followed her up a set of stairs and waited as she unlocked the door at the top and pushed it open. “He's a very nice man, and a sharp dresser. Not one of those guys whose pants are sagging off their rear ends so you can see their unmentionables. Underwear, I mean. Not their private parts.”

I tried to keep up with her chatter and laughed at the picture she painted. “That's a good thing.”

“He's quiet. Keeps to himself. He won't bother you.” A smile crinkled her eyes. “Unless you want him to. He's handsome, if you're in the market. I didn't see a wedding ring and he moved in alone.”

I grinned at her report. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“I don't think he's had any female visitors. Of course, it's not my business if he did. As long as it's legal, and the apartments are kept clean, it's none of my business what my tenants do.”

I nodded my head in agreement, following Dottie her as she gave me a tour of the apartment. There were two large bedrooms, as she said, with both dormer ceilings and large closets. I was thrilled to see the stained glass window I'd noticed outside was in my bathroom. Woo-hoo! Suddenly, I couldn't wait to move. I could picture all my shabby chic furniture here already. It would fit perfectly. Maybe I'd get a cat. “Are pets allowed?”

“Yes, but just one. As long as you're responsible and look after it. The man I was telling you about? He has a basset hound named Beau. He pays me an extra hundred a month to babysit. I just love him.”

I wondered if she meant she loved the guy or his dog. I supposed I'd see both of them around, eventually. Once I'd looked at everything thoroughly, I assured her I wanted the apartment and asked her a few questions. I couldn't believe my luck. It was gorgeous. We went back to her house, where I wrote out a check for the deposit she wanted and a prorated check for the rest of the month. Then she promised to welcome me with some chocolate chip cookies. I had a feeling living there might not be good for my waistline.

I drove home, excited about how nice and grandmotherly Dottie was, and about how much I liked what would be my new home. I'd miss being near Brian, but maybe I needed to make this move. If I had the unconscious hope, and I'm talking so unconscious I didn't even recognize it most of the time, that we'd reconcile one day, obviously his growing relationship with Lola precluded that. I needed to move on instead of lingering around the fringes of his life.

We'd gotten married when we were both nineteen. Our divorce wasn't ugly, as I said, or that interesting. It didn't
even make
The Destiny Trumpet
. I stopped thinking about Brian and concentrated on what I needed to do before I moved. It wouldn't take me long to pack, and I'd call movers tomorrow. I got out of my car and was starting toward my apartment when the side door of the funeral home flew open. “I'm glad you're home. Have you heard the news?”

I walked over to Brian. “Hi. What news?”

“You're just in time. It's about Calista. Channel Six just had a news preview about her. Come inside. I think you need to see it.”

“Is Lola going to be okay with me being in your house? Is she hiding in the bushes watching me?”

“No. Come on. The commercial break will be over in a minute or two. This is serious, Molly.”

His clipped response and dark look told me he wasn't in a joking mood. I had one of those premonition-y feelings. Like if I stepped through his door, my life would change, and we aren't talking in a good way. I followed him into the house anyway, then to the kitchen. We silently stared at the TV until the local news came on.

“Prominent Destiny, New York, orchard owner, Calista Danforth-Brody, was found dead in her house by her neighbor Trey Hamilton this afternoon. According to the police, Mr. Hamilton revealed he went to Ms. Danforth-Brody's house to apologize for trying to cause trouble for her by confronting Jacob and Sharona Jandella, owners of Jandella Nursery in Clydesmore, and insisting the Calista Sugar Pink they were going to distribute for Calista, belonged to him. He told the police he was hoping they could get back together; that they had had genuine feelings for each other, until he ruined it. When she didn't answer the door, he says he opened it and went inside, since her car was right there in front. He claims he found her crumpled on the floor and immediately called 911, who then dispatched the police and an ambulance. The police are investigating. Channel Six will provide details as they become available.”

I gaped at Brian after he'd switched off the TV, then lowered myself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. It wasn't my life that was going to change for the worse. It was Calista's! Dead is as “worse” as you can get. The elation I felt about my new apartment evaporated. Questions flooded my mind. “Trey found her?” That was strange, and a little too coincidental for me. “They broke up. How could she be dead? She's been dating Blake Ellsworth, hasn't she?” As if that could prevent her from dying. “Did Trey really want to reconcile with her?”

“I don't have the answers,” Brian replied.

I couldn't wrap my head around that, or stop rambling. Okay, she wasn't my favorite person, or even in the top five of my favorite people, but I'd never, ever wish her harm. Tears filled my eyes.

Brian took my hand. I didn't withdraw it. Let Lola walk in. I didn't care. He'd been mine first.

“Wait. How did Trey know she was dead?”

“The news report said he called 911, remember? They sent the police and an ambulance.”

“Are they sure? Sure she's dead, I mean? Maybe it's one of those things where the person can't move and appears dead, but they really aren't. I saw that on a
Twilight Zone
episode once. Did they check to make sure her eyes weren't moving?”

“Molly, I don't think that's the case here.”

“My God. I can't believe it.”

“Me, neither,” said Brian. “She was so excited about the Calista Sugar Pink.”

I jumped off my chair. “Oh my God. You don't think that Trey . . . that he . . . that he . . . killed her, do you?”

He stared at me for a second. “Over her apple discovery? I can't picture that.”

“Are you kidding? Don't be naive. It would mean fame and fortune for him. Never mind everything that's happened between his family and the Danforths since the beginning of time. He threatened the Jandellas with a gun. He thinks the Calista Sugar Pink belongs to him. He said it was on land that really belongs to his family.”

“A fake gun. I still can't see Trey as a cold-blooded killer.”

“Maybe he was mad because Calista dumped him, and he was jealous of Blake. Maybe Blake's next.”

Brian blew out a breath. “You're jumping to conclusions. We'll have to wait and see what the police find.”

“Say she was murdered, but it wasn't Trey,” I mused out loud. “What if there's a crazed serial killer running around?” The thought of being alone in my apartment later sent chills skittering down my spine.

“It could have been natural causes.”