Kernel of Truth (20 page)

Russ sat down. Jessica glared at him.

Garrett set the two tins down in front of the judge. He took a piece of Coco's Signature Chocolate Fudge, bit into it, and moaned. “Oh, Coco. You will be missed. Yes. This is how I remember her fudge. Rich. Creamy. Yet somehow light.”

He took a sip of water and took a piece of the Coco Pop Fudge and bit into it. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, which was a little like watching two very large caterpillars do a downward dog yoga move. He laughed. “How piquant! Delightful and playful. I can see how it owes something to
Coco's Signature, but it is its own thing altogether.” He banged his gavel. “Case dismissed.”

Jessica stood. “But, Your Honor . . .”

Judge Romero pointed his gavel at her and cut her off. “Not another word, young lady. You have wasted this court's time with this frivolous case. Go work out your personal differences with Ms. Anderson on your own time.” He stood. We all stood. Then he left the courtroom.

The room erupted into applause. I turned around to stare at them. Had they been on my side that whole time? The
Sentinel
photographer snapped photos so fast it didn't even look like his finger was moving. Tom Moffat grumbled that both Jessica and I should be sent home where we belonged.

I looked around at the court reporter and the clerk and all the other people in the courtroom. Samantha from the
Sentinel
gave me a little wave. Word was going to be all around Grand Lake in a matter of hours.

I had been vindicated. In a court of law, no less. I turned and threw my arms around Garrett. Which was when I saw Antoine stride into the courtroom as if it was the kitchen of L'Oiseau Gris.

I turned to ice in Garrett's arms. He must have felt it. “What's wrong? We won. You know that, right?” he asked.

I nodded against his shoulder. “Yes, but my ex-husband just walked into the courtroom.”

“Awkward,” Garrett sang sotto voce into my ear.

I pulled away and pulled my blouse straight. I stepped around Garrett and said, “Hello, Antoine. What exactly are you doing here?” I held out my hand.

Antoine took my hand and pulled me toward him. “I am here to take you home, Rebecca. Enough is enough.”

“Uh, fella, I think you need to let the lady go.” Garrett tapped Antoine on the shoulder.

Antoine glanced over at Garrett, his expression imperious. “And you are?”

“My name is Garrett Mills. I'm Ms. Anderson's attorney and her . . .” And that was where he faltered. I didn't blame him. I didn't exactly know what he was besides my lawyer, either. I did know he was a damn fine kisser and often smelled really good in a non-kitcheny way and that he was smart and funny and had a low tolerance for vegetables coming out toddler nostrils. What the exact nature of our relationship was? I thought it was too early to tell.

“My friend, Antoine. He's my friend. Now let me go, please.” I kept my voice cool and steady. The last thing you should do with Antoine was match him passion for passion. That way lay mutually assured destruction. He was like a ballistic missile of passion.

“Fine.” Antoine released me. “Can we go somewhere to talk? I am serious about taking you home.”

“Antoine, I am home. Grand Lake is home.” I backed up so I was standing next to Garrett.

“How can a place that doubts your integrity as a chef be home to you?” Antoine grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the door. “They have dragged you in front of a judge. It's humiliating. Ridiculous!
C'est fou!”

To stay in television shape, Antoine works out almost as much as he cooks. He tugged and I sailed along after him. I tried to plant my feet and pull back, but I couldn't get a purchase on the slick courtroom floor. Whose idea had it been for me to wear heels?

Garrett positioned himself between Antoine and the door, forcing Antoine to stop. “I said that you needed to get your hands off the lady.” His voice was low and menacing.

“This is between Rebecca and myself.” Antoine waved his hand. “Please get out of our way. We have much to discuss.”

“I don't think she wants to discuss anything with you.” Garrett didn't budge.

“It's okay, Garrett. I'll go. I'll call you later.” I didn't really want to go, but I didn't really want more of a scene than we'd already had.

Garrett shook his head and squared his shoulders. “It is not okay. You're not going anywhere with him. Not while I'm here to stop it.”

Antoine looked back and forth between us. “Have I been replaced already, Rebecca? With someone so prosaic as a lawyer?”

“Prosaic?” Garrett shook his head. “I'd rather be prosaic than narcissistic.” Garrett had that one pegged.

“And I would rather be extraordinary than stuck in some Podunk town in the middle of one of the flyover states.” Antoine lifted his chin.

Garrett laughed. “Then go off and be extraordinary somewhere else.”

“Not without Rebecca. You don't understand.” Antoine turned toward me, his tone going from belligerent to beseeching. “I have not developed a single new recipe since you left me. Not one. You were my muse. Come back to me. I will do whatever you want. You can have a popcorn shop right next to L'Oiseau Gris. You can have two popcorn shops. Three. Whatever you want.”

“I don't want a popcorn shop next to L'Oiseau Gris,” I said, although that was a pretty sweet piece of real estate. I bet I could sell a lot of popcorn balls to tipsy people out on wine-tasting adventures. That wasn't the point, though. “I want to be here.”

Antoine's face had begun to turn an interesting purple color. “Where you are accused of crimes you did not commit? Arrested on a regular basis? Attacked? Reviled?”

It seemed harder to defend when he put it that way.

“Yes. That's what she wants. She likes being reviled. It makes her feel alive. Now let her go.” Garrett tried to push in between Antoine and me.

Antoine pushed him back. “Not until I speak to her in private. Get out of my way, shyster.”

“Shyster? Glorified onion chopper.” Garrett squared his shoulders and glared.

“Ambulance chaser!” Antoine yelled, head reared back.

Garrett leaned in and half-whispered, “Jacques Pépin imitator!”

Apparently that was too much for Antoine. I wasn't surprised. Antoine hated Jacques Pépin. He let go of my arm and took a swing at Garrett. Garrett took the punch directly on the chin, stumbled backward and then came up swinging himself.

He'd blacked both of Antoine's eyes before the security guards were able to separate
them.

“Thanks for going
my bail,” Garrett said as we walked out of the police station.

“It would have been unseemly for Dan to do it,” I pointed out. “Can't have law enforcement playing favorites and all that.”

“I also appreciate you testifying that I didn't take the first swing.” He rubbed the swelling bruise on his jaw.

“That didn't seem to impress Judge Romero too much. Good thing I had another batch of fudge with me or you might have been spending the night in lockdown.” I'd also promised to bring over some of the caramel fudge tomorrow. I didn't mind. Judge Romero was an appreciative audience.

“You talk pretty tough for a cook.” He put his arm around my waist and pulled me against him.

“Well, I've been arrested a time or two now. I know how things are in the slammer.” I smiled up at him. “Can I buy you lunch, Counselor?”

“Sure. I wouldn't mind a little sustenance.” He steered
me onto Main Street and we walked to Bob's Diner. The lunch crowd had cleared, so we were able to get a booth right away. Megan brought us both cups of coffee without being asked and plunked menus down in front of us.

“Is it true what you said?” Megan asked as she tried to top off my still-full coffee cup. I was so not going to drink that stuff. I was pleased to see that Garrett took one sip and then set his cup down. “In court?”

“About what?” I'd said a lot of stuff lately.

“About Jessica selling Coco's recipe to some big chocolate company.” She set the coffee carafe down and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“Absolutely one hundred percent true.” I'd been ready to swear to it in a court of law. I might as well be ready to swear to it in Bob's Diner.

Megan shook her head. “Coco's probably spinning in her grave. She'd rather have burned that recipe than sold it.”

That was true. “I know.”

“And she's already sold the shop?” Megan asked.

“As good as.” Main Street wouldn't be the same, but maybe Barbara was right. Maybe we'd all forget eventually.

“You know, maybe that Jessica isn't as sweet and nice as everybody always says.” Megan picked up the coffee carafe.

I scratched my head. “Possibly not.”

Megan went on to the next table and Garrett said, “I'm surprised you're not doing a happy dance in your seat.”

“I'm doing it in my head.” I smiled.

“So now that you've got what you've always wanted, are you going to let up?” He poured cream and sugar into his coffee and took another sip. By the way his mouth twisted, it hadn't helped.

“What have I always wanted?” I asked.

He smiled. “For the town to be on your side instead of Jessica's.”

I considered that for a moment. “It's not all I've ever wanted, but I'm liking it so far.”

“Fine, but step carefully, Rebecca. She's littler than you, but she's still got a nasty bite.”

I knew that better than anyone.

*   *   *

If anything, the
afternoon Coco Pop Fudge crowd had grown that day. I pressed Sam into service, otherwise he was taking up space where customers could stand, and his feet are huge. He had to easily take up the same square footage as two small customers. Way better to have him behind the counter being useful than in front of it, getting in the way.

Amid the usual midwestern polite call and response of “hellos” and “how are yous,” “thank yous” and “fines,” I heard the occasional “I always wondered about that Jessica” and “Coco would be so proud of you.”

Then as the crowd began to thin, Jessica barged in. Her hair was tangled around her face. Mascara dripped down her cheeks. She swayed in the doorway and staggered the rest of the way into the shop.

Everyone got quiet in a hurry.

She pointed a shaky finger at me. “You have no right. No right! No right to do this.” She gestured around POPS.

“The judge says that I do, Jessica.” I came out from behind the counter. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I don't care what that stupid fat judge says. What does he know? I know who was always here for Coco, and it wasn't you, Rebecca. You weren't here when she had her knee
replaced. You weren't here the winter she got pneumonia. You weren't the one who shoveled her sidewalks in the winter and helped her carry in her groceries. You were off in California finding yourself, marrying a rich husband and then deciding that still wasn't good enough for you.” She grabbed hold of one of the ice cream parlor chairs for balance.

“I was the one who was here. Coco's legacy should be mine. Her will—the only will that counts—says it's mine. But you have to go and ruin everything with some new thing you say that she was going to make with you. You ruin everything. You always do.” With that she made a slow circle and staggered back out of the shop.

“Was Ms. Jessica drunk?” Susanna whispered to me as I went back behind the counter feeling chastened.

“I think so.”

“So was she really drunk when she had that car accident, too? Was it maybe not cough medicine?” Sam asked.

I shrugged. I'd done enough damage to Jessica that day. It was starting not to feel so much like a victory.

*   *   *

Garrett had been
right about the mornings getting darker and colder. Sprocket and I needed lights now to walk into POPS in the morning. I had a headlamp for me and a little blinking collar light for Sprocket. Not exactly high style, but it was better than tripping and falling in the dark. We probably wouldn't be walking much longer. As soon as snow started to fly we were driving. I could get a treadmill for the apartment so I could walk off all the tastes and wee bites I ended up taking each day.

I pulled my keys out of my pocket as we walked up to the door. For a second, I thought I saw movement in the window. Nothing much. Just a dark patch moving against the general
blackness of the interior. I stopped and waited, watching the window again. Nothing. I must have imagined it. I opened the door and let Sprocket in first and followed him. I took two steps into the shop and stopped. Sprocket growled. I could have sworn I smelled almonds. Then something smacked down on top of my head and everything went black.

*   *   *

I woke lying
facedown on my Versailles tile floor. Sprocket was howling and Annie was talking. She was giving someone the address of the shop.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to push myself up and then deciding that wasn't such a good idea as my stomach lurched.

“You were attacked.” Annie crouched down next to me. “The ambulance is on its way. So is Dan.”

“Who would attack me?” Sprocket came over and licked my face.

“Based on the fact that your back window is bashed in, I'm guessing it's the same person who attacked Coco and Barbara.” She patted my back.

I managed to push myself up into a sitting position without barfing. “That doesn't make any sense. I don't fit the profile.”

“You're a female shop owner,” Annie pointed out. She took her shawl off and wrapped it around me.

“I'm under seventy,” I countered, trying to stop the shaking that had started.

She shrugged. “Maybe the age thing was a coincidence.” Then she went into the kitchen to get some ice to hold against my head.

My head hurt too much to argue. I knew there was more, but the pounding in my brain was keeping thoughts from forming. Apparently my head isn't anywhere near as hard
as Huerta's or Allen Thompson's. Once Dan and the paramedics arrived, there was no point in thinking at all. Everyone had too many questions and they seemed to all be asking them at once.

“Jesus, Rebecca, are you okay?” Dan asked, crouching down next to me.

“I think so.” I reached out and took his arm. It was nice to have something solid to hang on to. I tried to get up, but the room swam in front of my eyes.

The paramedic who was poking and prodding me and asking questions about drug allergies shook his head and held me down. “You have to be careful with head injuries. We're taking you in to be thoroughly checked over. Let the professionals decide if you're okay or not.”

That actually sounded like a good idea. “Will you take Sprocket?” I asked Dan.

“I'll take him home to Haley and Evan. She's going to want to know what happened anyway, and I don't want her to hear it from someone else.” Dan patted Sprocket on the head.

That also sounded like a good idea. She'd be upset enough as it was. If she heard it from someone else there'd truly be hell to pay.

“Did you see anything? Hear anything?” Dan asked as the paramedics helped me onto the gurney.

I tried to remember. “There was a shape. Something in the window. I don't know. I thought I saw it and then I thought I imagined it. I walked in and then pow.” I touched the top of my head. Everything started to swim again.

“That's where you were hit? On top of your head?” Dan asked, peering over at the top of my head.

“That's where it hurts.” I could feel a knot forming up there, too.

“Were you bent over or something?” He looked from me to the door.

“No. I was walking into the store. Why?” I looked over at the door to see if there was something there.

“Think about it, Rebecca. You're five foot ten. For someone to hit you on top of the head like that, they'd have to be close to seven foot tall.” Dan stood up and put his hands on his hips.

“Or standing on something,” Annie said, pointing to one of my ice cream parlor chairs that was nowhere near the table it went to. She stood next to Dan, staring at the scene.

The paramedics slid the gurney into the ambulance. “We need to take her to be checked out now. You can come by the hospital to ask her questions later.”

I waved good-bye as the doors shut, and closed my eyes for the ride.

*   *   *

“You're the lady
who showed up at the other lady's store when that lady got hit on the head, aren't you?” the dark-haired paramedic asked.

It took me a few seconds to parse out that sentence. “You mean Barbara? From the antique store?”

“Yeah. You showed up as we were taking her to the ambulance,” he said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Weird that you both got hit on the head at your stores.”

I could have thought of several other words besides
weird
to describe it if my head hadn't hurt so much. “Totally.”

“She smelled like nuts,” he observed. He sniffed my head. “You smell like almonds.”

“Are you saying I have something in my hair?” My hand
flew up again, but it didn't do much good since he'd already put the oxygen sensor on my index finger.

“No. I'm saying you smell a little like almonds.” He started an IV line.

“Barbara smelled like something, too?”

“Yeah. Although she smelled a little more chocolatey.”

“Lucky her.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I really like chocolate.”

*   *   *

Haley was at
the emergency room when I got there. I wasn't quite sure how she managed to beat the ambulance, but never underestimate a big sister.

“Where's Evan?” I asked.

“Dan's taking him to preschool. I can only stay for a little bit, but I wanted to see that you were okay for myself.” She brushed the hair off my forehead. “Don't scare me like that again, okay?”

“I didn't mean to. I really didn't plan on anyone smacking me on the head.” I lifted my hand to touch the bump on my head, but Haley stopped it.

“I know you didn't plan it. I just think you're poking around too much and may have upset someone.” She bit her lip. “Someone besides Dan.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She had a point.

After checking me out and declaring I had a mild concussion, Dr. Tanaka shuffled me off into the corner of the emergency room for observation. Haley left to pick up Evan at preschool.

A few hours later, Dr. Tanaka seemed satisfied. She said if I didn't do anything crazy and could find someone who would stay with me, she'd let me go home. One of the volunteers brought me a magazine to read while I waited, but the
words kept blurring. Dr. Tanaka said that would pass in a few hours or perhaps a few days or maybe it was weeks? I was having trouble paying attention.

According to Nurse Jing Jing, I was also having trouble sitting still. She kept shooing me back into my corner. “You are getting in the way of the actual sick people, Rebecca. Lie down. Be quiet.”

“I'm bored.” I had tried to count the ceiling tiles above me, but the blurred-vision thing wasn't helping with that, either. Plus, I kept forgetting which number I was on.

“I know you're bored.” She smiled at me and patted my hand as she led me back to my corner. “But I don't care. You're in my way. Lie down. Stay out of trouble or I will bonk you over the head, too.”

She was a little mean for someone who looked that cute and wore scrubs decorated with Hello Kitty. Appearances were so deceiving. Dan finally came by about two hours into my forced incarceration behind curtain number three.

“Oh, thank God, you're here. Get me out of this place.” I grabbed his hand. “I'm going to die.”

His face grew alarmed. “They told me it was a mild concussion. That shouldn't be life-threatening.”

“It's not the concussion. It's the boredom. I don't have anything to do.” I pulled myself to a sitting position using his arm. “Take me home.”

He shook his head and peeled my fingers off his arm. “Can't you lie quietly for a little bit until they know you're okay?”

“No, she can't,” Jing Jing called from the nurse's station. “Take her home. She's driving me nuts.”

“You heard the woman. Take me home.” I looked around for my shoes and jacket.