One Dead Cookie (13 page)

Usually it was Ellie who smoothed the waters, but this time rescue came from Trevor’s
friend, the man Olivia had barely noticed, who lifted the coffee pot, sniffed it,
and said to Maddie, “This smells wonderful. Just let me know where you keep the cups,
and I’ll pour.” When he smiled, Maddie relented. She opened a cabinet and the two
of them took out seven cups.

Very impressive, Olivia thought as she assembled cream and sugar. What was his name
again?

As if she’d read her daughter’s mind, Ellie said, “Thank you, Dougie…if I may call
you Dougie?”

“Please do. And you are Ellie, correct?” With a light laugh, Dougie added, “Actually,
I’m surprised you remembered my name. Most people don’t. Trevor is the main attraction;
I’m just along to fetch and carry.” His tone and demeanor betrayed no trace of resentment.
Olivia couldn’t help but notice the impressive muscles in Dougie’s upper arms as he
reached for the last cup. She wondered if he might be more bodyguard than friend.

The subject of the interchange, Trevor Lane, had done little more than smile now and
then since Olivia and her mother had arrived in the kitchen. At close range, the rather
attractive crinkling around his eyes looked more pronounced. Olivia ratcheted up her
estimate of Trevor’s age by a few years, though he was every bit as attractive as
he’d appeared from a distance.

“There,” Lenora said as she lifted a heaping plate of decorated cookies. “I have only
a tiny appetite, but I know you two boys must be famished. It was quite a long flight
from Los Angeles. I doubt you’ve had a bite of food since you left. I’m afraid this
isn’t the most substantial offering, but at least it will keep you going until we
can get a proper meal for you.” Lenora placed the cookies on the counter between Trevor
and Dougie. As her hand disengaged from the plate, two cookies left with it. Maddie
rolled her eyes, and Olivia had to clamp her teeth together to keep from snickering.

Trevor drank his coffee black and ignored the cookies. In fact, with the exception
of Lenora, no one showed interest in the cookie plate. As she sipped her coffee, Lenora
filched a third cookie, a lovely wedding gown shape that Maddie had decorated to match
the colors of the dress Aunt Sadie had designed and created for her.

“Oh, do eat some cookies, Trevor,” Lenora said. “I know you avoid sugar, but really,
you are too thin. And Dougie, you need to keep up those lovely muscles.”

As Lenora nibbled along the hem of the lavender-and-yellow wedding-dress cookie, Maddie’s
eyes metamorphosed to crystalline orbs, much like the emeralds in her engagement ring.
Meanwhile, Lucas tested the faucet and watched for drips, unaware of his true love’s
burgeoning rage. Olivia searched desperately for a topic that might break the tension.

Once again, Trevor’s friend intervened. “Everyone knows Trevor Lane,” he said, “but
I should introduce myself. I’m Dougie Adair, general sidekick.” Dougie had a warm
smile, which he bestowed on Maddie. “Your cookies are stunning,” he said. “I’ve never
seen anything like them in New York City or in Los Angeles, and I’ve lived in both
cities. I understand you are getting married on Saturday? And you are creating these
cookies yourself for the occasion?”

Maddie unclenched her teeth enough to say, “It’s an engagement party. Everyone is
invited.” Lenora sidled up to the cookie plate and reached out her hand.

“That’s a lot of cookies,” Dougie said, “in very little time, and you’ll need every
one. However, I’m always available to devour leftovers, if by some miracle you have
a few left after the party.”

Lenora withdrew her hand and pretended to examine her nails.

Olivia was impressed. Dougie had masterfully halted the raid on the cookie supply,
and he’d accomplished it without directly offending Lenora.

Maddie softened to her usual friendly self. “How long are you two staying in town?
If you’re still here on Saturday, you’ll be honorary Chatterley Heights residents
and hereby invited to our engagement party. Right, honey?” Maddie winked at her beloved.

Lucas was hovering near the sink as if he didn’t trust his repair work. When all eyes
turned to him, he flushed. “Um, sure.”

“This is my fiancé, Lucas Ashford,” Maddie said. “He can’t cook, but he can fix anything.”

“Lucas Ashford,” Trevor said. “I know that name, don’t I?” He glanced over at Dougie
for confirmation.

“Sure, we remember Lucas,” Dougie said. He reached his hand out toward Lucas, who
hesitated before shaking it. “You played football in high school.”

“Of course,” Trevor said. “I remember now. What was the name of the Chatterley Heights
team again? The Chatterley Cheaters?”

“It was the Chatterley Cheetahs, Trevor.” The reproof in
Dougie’s voice was subtle but clear. “As I remember, Lucas, you also played basketball.
You were really good. Trevor and I weren’t so versatile. We just stuck with football.”

“And now you’re a plumber,” Trevor said.

“Lucas is a businessman.” Maddie radiated righteous indignation. “He
owns
the Heights Hardware.”

Trevor bestowed a dazzling smile upon Maddie. “You mustn’t take me too seriously.
We had a long and tiring flight, and much as I love my fans, they can be exhausting.
Dougie is forever warning me to keep my mouth shut when I’m tired, and he’s right.”
With a slight bow, Trevor added, “Many, many congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.
I wish you far better luck at marriage than I ever had.” Trevor tilted his head toward
Dougie. “Or should I have left out that last part?”

Dougie laughed. “Yes, but nice try.”

Olivia felt relieved that the mood had lightened, but the interchange had piqued her
curiosity about Dougie. The conversation was winding down. Lucas packed up his tools,
and Maddie said she’d walk him back to the hardware store. Trevor tried to convince
Lenora to take them to the Tucker home, where they would be staying. Lenora insisted
that if Trevor ate a cookie, he wouldn’t feel so tired, while Ellie suggested that
fatigue responded better to rest than to sugar. Olivia cornered Dougie by the coffeepot.
“I’m curious about something,” she said. “If my question is rude, just tell me.”

“Now
I’m
curious,” Dougie said with a good-natured grin. “Ask away.”

Olivia didn’t want to ask outright about their relationship, so she chose a less direct
approach. “Trevor implied that you help him navigate interactions with the public.
Are you his…manager?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Dougie said with a rueful laugh. “And in answer to your
cleverly concealed question, we are no more than friends. Between us we have three
former wives. Trevor lost his two by cheating on them, starting with the maids of
honor at both weddings, and I’m still in love with mine.”

Olivia glanced over at Trevor, who was discussing with Lenora the energy-draining
qualities of sugar. “I’ve only just met Trevor, but he does seem hard to manage.”

“He is, believe me. Trevor can be charming, funny, rude, you name it. He’s actually
quite a good actor. He really belongs on Broadway, but he’s stuck in daytime drama.
That’s where the steady money is.”

“So you’re his agent?”

“No, Trevor’s got an agent, for all the good it does him. I’m his writer.”

“He has his own writer?”

“He does. You’d be surprised how much writing Trevor is expected to do on his own,
and it isn’t his thing. He’s great at extemporaneous speaking, but having to put pen
to paper or fingers to keyboard…well, the very thought enervates him. And you saw
what he’s like when he needs a nap. So he does the speaking, and I do the writing.
I answer his fan mail and email. I deal with his stalkers. I write his press releases,
charming and witty answers to interview questions, blog posts, tweets, you name it.”

As the sugar forum came to a close, Trevor called across the kitchen to Dougie, “You
might have to carry me to Lenora’s place. I’m dead on my feet.”

“And sometimes I’m his muscle,” Dougie said quietly as he nodded toward Trevor. “I
do what needs to be done.”

Olivia and Bertha spent over an hour putting The Gingerbread House back together after
the hordes of fanatic Trevor Lane fans departed. By the time Olivia untangled the
last cookie cutter mobile, it was time to close the store. During the reconstruction,
only two people walked through the front door. Both of them left as soon as Bertha
informed them that Trevor Lane was long gone. No one asked about Dougie Adair. Olivia
wondered if Dougie resented his invisible status…or if he preferred it that way.

The one person Olivia hadn’t heard from was Jennifer Elsworth. Bertha and Olivia had
taken turns calling Jennifer’s cell from the kitchen phone, but their calls all went
directly to voice mail. “You go on home, Bertha,” Olivia said. “I’ll reconcile the
receipts, since there aren’t very many.”

“I feel so bad for you, Livie.” Bertha removed her embroidered apron, which depicted
two little gingerbread girls joyfully swinging on a vine over a lake. When she’d
bought the apron, Bertha had said, “You wouldn’t think it to look at me now, but I
was a daredevil as a little girl.”

Maddie’s aunt Sadie had proposed the idea for a series of aprons based on The Gingerbread
House logo, which featured tumbling gingerbread men, women, and children. Using exotic
colors and a touch of humor, Aunt Sadie continued to create endless variations on
the original theme. Her most recent batch depicted gingerbread boys and girls having
fun in serious adult jobs. The aprons all sold quickly.

“I do hope nothing has happened to Jennifer,” Bertha said as she headed toward the
front door. “You hear such terrible stories about folks dying in car crashes while
they are rushing off to be with sick family members. It’s just not fair. But we’ll
hope for the best. Now, Livie, if you need me to fill in tomorrow, don’t hesitate
to call. Dear Willard and I are planning to meet for lunch, but otherwise…”

“I can’t believe Jennifer won’t try to contact us before tomorrow. I’ll let you know,
and many thanks for your flexibility. If we keep having sales days like this one,
we won’t need any staff at all.” Olivia locked the front door behind Bertha and gravitated
toward the kitchen, from which luscious aromas drifted. As she opened the kitchen
door, the phone rang.

At the kitchen table, Maddie swayed to her earbuds, oblivious to the ringing. Wielding
a pastry bag, she squiggled purple icing down the sides of a wedding cake cutout cookie.
She glanced up, startled, as Olivia lunged for the phone.

“Livie?” It was Del’s voice. “Is that you breathing heavily?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Del, but I tripped over a chair trying to reach the phone.
I thought it might be Jennifer.”

“Jennifer?”

“Our new clerk. You met her briefly,” Olivia said. “She’s the attractive younger woman
you dumped me for, remember?”

Del responded with a reassuring chuckle.

“Frankly, if we don’t hear from her soon, she’ll be our former clerk,” Olivia said.
“You haven’t heard anything about an accident involving a young woman, have you?”

“Nope, haven’t heard about any accidents today, but I’ll keep my ears open. Maybe
her car broke down. Or she ran over her phone.”

“You’re making excuses for Jennifer because you thought she was cute,” Olivia said.
“Or that’s what Sam Parnell said. So if that’s why you’re calling…”

Del heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Poor old Snoopy. He keeps forgetting I carry a loaded
gun. Anyway, that’s not why I called. I thought you might want to eat this evening.”

“The thought had occurred to me,” Olivia said. “I did miss lunch. Only I have to bake
and decorate some very special cookies before Saturday, and I seem to be down a staff
member. It’s been quite a day.”

“So I heard,” Del said. “Hollywood and the paparazzi converge in the quaint little
Gingerbread House. It has the makings of a murder mystery.”

“Don’t even think it.” Olivia glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I don’t know about
dinner. There’s just so much work—” Maddie put down her pastry bag and began waving
at Olivia with both hands. “Hang on a moment, Del. Maddie seems to be having a seizure.”
Olivia held the telephone receiver against her shoulder.

“Okay, here’s an idea,” Maddie said. “Abbreviated version. You are stressed, which
makes me and many others crazy. So go have a quick meal with Del, maybe for an hour
or so. I’m nearly finished with this last batch of extra cookies for Saturday. Then
I’ll work on the recipes for the special cookies. Tell me the flavors you want to
use, and let me take a crack at the early experimentation. Don’t give me that look,
Livie. It’s my engagement party, so I get a say. I don’t care if your creations are
a surprise. I’d much rather join in the fun of making them. Well?”

Olivia hesitated for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. I love
baking with Mom, like when I was a kid. On the other hand, I am feeling pressured
and cranky, which stresses Mom…and she is missing her yoga classes to help me.”