The Chesapeake Diaries Series (99 page)

“We are sitting here talking about ice cream and Ouija boards and all this time you’ve known about Austin’s mother?”

Steffie took Vanessa by the arm and led her out the front door to the tables outside. There was no one in
sight, but still, Stef lowered her voice as she and Ness took seats.

“Listen, if I tell you something, you have to promise—you have to
swear
—not to tell anyone. Not even Grady.” Stef was certain that Vanessa would tell Grady every word, but she had to impress upon her the importance of not passing it on to anyone else and definitely not sharing over coffee.

“I swear.” Vanessa’s eyes were large with anticipation. “So spill already.”

“Her name was Robin Kennedy and she was Wade’s business partner, but we knew that part from Miss Grace.” Steffie took a deep breath. “She was also his best friend, but they’d never been more than friends. Wade married her because she was dying. She had an affair that turned out badly and then she found out that she was pregnant and then she found out that she was terminally ill. Wade married her before she died because she was so afraid of what would happen to Austin.”

“Oh God, that’s so sad.” Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears. “And that’s so noble of him, why—”

“Vanessa, you can’t tell anyone.”

“I know, I said I wouldn’t, but …” She sighed deeply, then sat up straight and asked, “You don’t think Wade was making that up about them just being friends so that he could make a fancy move on you and not look like a tool?”

“No. You had to see his face, Ness. It was obvious that it was killing him just to talk about it.”

“That is just the saddest thing I ever heard.” Vanessa took a tissue from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. “So I guess he sold their business and came back
to St. Dennis because he couldn’t bear to stay in Texas after she died.”

“I guess.” Steffie knew better, but she wasn’t telling that part.

“Poor Wade. Poor Austin.”

“I saw a picture of her,” Steffie said softly.

“He showed you a picture?”

“Uh-uh. I looked her up.”

“What do you mean, you looked her up?” Vanessa frowned. “Looked her up where?”

“On Google,” Stef admitted.

“You Googled Wade’s dead wife? Didn’t that feel a little creepy?”

“A little, yeah. It did.”

“So what did she look like?”

“She was very pretty.”

“Very dark hair, dark eyes, I imagine.”

“You’re thinking of Austin’s coloring. I expected that, too, but no.” Stef shook her head. “She was sort of fair, light brown hair. I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were.”

“Anything else?”

“There were several articles about an accident her parents were in years ago. They were both killed.”

“That poor girl really had the worst luck, didn’t she?” Vanessa’s eyes reflected sympathy. “I’m sorry she had such a bad time of things.”

“I am, too,” Stef agreed. “My heart just aches for her, and for Austin, and for Wade. The whole thing is just beyond tragic.”

“Tragic.” Vanessa agreed as she glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to my shop. I left Nan in
charge and told her I’d be back in a half hour so she could leave, and I’m late.”

“Did you want anything special?”

“Yeah, I wanted to pump you for information about Wade.” Vanessa smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

“But you won’t forget and you won’t tell …”

Vanessa shook her head. “Never. We won’t even speak of it again.”

Steffie seriously doubted that but she let it pass.

“As long as you’re here, take a little of the butter brickle for the road. I made it earlier this morning and it totally rocks. You need to try this flavor.” They walked back into the shop.

“Well, in that case”—Vanessa grabbed a small container from the top of the counter—“don’t mind if I do …”

Steffie was interrupted four more times that afternoon: once by a teacher from the local nursery school wanting to arrange for a class field trip to Scoop; once by several old friends of her parents who stopped in to let her know that they’d registered for Natalie’s Run and how wonderful it was that the family had found such a nice way to honor Nat, who they remembered as a “precocious little thing” before she fell ill; Jesse stopped in right after lunch, and later in the afternoon, Clay Madison popped in.

“Hey.” He poked his head into her workroom. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Why, yes, you are, but since it’s you, I’ll overlook it.” She looked up from the cutting board where she was painstakingly chopping lavender buds. “Thanks
for the apples last week. I know how annoying those last-minute, drop-everything-and-take-care-of-me phone calls can be, because I get them, too.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“I appreciated it.”

“I heard the apple sundaes you made for the Historical Society were amazing.”

“From …?”

“My aunt Emma’s on the board. She hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”

“Good.” Steffie grinned. “Best advertisement is word of mouth.”

“Right.” He placed a brown paper bag on the counter. “Which is why I wanted to thank you for noting on your chalkboard that the apples were from Madison’s Farm.”

“These days, people like to know where their food comes from.” She shrugged. “Particularly, they like to know that it’s from a local source. Can’t get more local than Madison’s.”

“We appreciate it. I was trying to think of a way to thank you.” He handed the bag to her. “This was the best I could come up with, this late in the season.”

She opened it and peered inside, but even before she could look, the scent of fresh mint wafted upward.

“Oh, mint!” she exclaimed. “I love the smell of fresh mint. Thank you, Clay.”

“My sister mentioned that you were making ice cream for after the run. I thought maybe you’d like to toss some mint into the chocolate.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you.” She closed the bag. “I’ll put this through the food processor later.”

“Great. Glad you can use it.” He smiled at her, a smile that went all the way to his warm brown eyes. “Well.” He slapped on hand on the table lightly. “I need to get on back to the farm. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Oh, you’re running?”

He nodded. “I’ve run every year. This year, I’ll be running with my nephew, Logan—my sister Brooke’s son—so I don’t know how much actual running we’ll be doing, but it’s for good cause. Logan saw the signs around town and he wanted to participate, so we’ll see how he does.”

“Good luck to both of you.” Steffie walked Clay through the front of the shop to the door. “I’ll make sure we save some of the chocolate mint for you and Logan on Saturday.”

“Great.” He opened the door halfway, stopped, and said, “It’s good to see you, Steffie. It’s been a while.”

“It has been. Fourth of July, maybe.”

“That long?” He frowned. “We’ll have to do better, make up for lost time.”

She smiled as he closed the door behind him, the bell tinkling softly. She turned to walk back to her workroom when she realized that Tina was leaning on the refrigerated case, grinning.

“What?” Steffie asked.

“Nothing.” Tina shrugged.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just that any number of good-looking men seem to be popping up right and left around here. The MacGregor guy one day, then today that
cute lawyer, then that hunky farmer. Wonder who’s going to turn up next?”

Steffie stared at her for a long moment, then shook her head as if to clear it, and went back to work.

The next morning, when she and Vanessa were leaving Cuppachino together, Stef mentioned that she was making chocolate mint ice cream in addition to plain chocolate, compliments of Clay.

“Oh, where’d you run into Clay?” Vanessa asked.

“He stopped into the shop to bring me the mint. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

“Hmm.” Vanessa looked thoughtful. “And wasn’t it just the other night that Wade brought you a ladder and put a move on you and Jesse stopped in?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you can thank me now, or you can thank me later.” Vanessa beamed.

“Thank you for what?”

Vanessa sighed with apparent exasperation. “Don’t you see? It’s working.”

“What’s working?” Stef frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The spell. It’s working.” Vanessa looked triumphant. “It’s bringing all these wonderful options to your door. One of them,” she confided, “is your soul mate.”

“Oh, dear God, give me strength.” Stef rolled her eyes heavenward. “You did not just say that.”

“How else to explain the steady stream of eligible—and dare I say hot?—guys less than a week after I—”

“—after you read some random words from a dusty old book that an old woman stashed in her attic
a million years ago. Come on, Ness, you don’t believe in any of that.”

“Well, I admit I didn’t use to. And I certainly didn’t last week. But you have to admit it’s strange timing.”

Stef held up one finger. “Wade stopped over to bring me a ladder because he wanted to help and because, well, because there’s some unfinished business between us.” She held up a second finger. “Jesse stopped over because I’m his client and because he doesn’t know many people his own age here in town and he figures friendship with me could lead to some sort of social life for him because I know everyone within a fifty-mile radius of St. Dennis.” A third finger went up. “Clay stopped over to thank me because I gave his orchard a little free advertising last week.”

She wagged all three fingers in front of Vanessa’s face.

“No spell, Ness. Just coincidence.”

“Grady always says there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

“Grady was in the FBI for a long time. He learned to interpret things logically. Which is exactly what I’m doing.”

“You say logic, you say coincidence, I say spells.” Vanessa fought a smile, then closed her eyes and waved one hand slowly back and forth in front of her face. “I see … I see another tall, handsome man in your future …”

“I see … one bat-shit crazy woman.” Steffie laughed and headed for Scoop, thinking that Vanessa’s occasional wackiness aside, having a best friend who could almost make you believe in magic wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“It’s one thing to be in demand,” Steffie told Tina “but it’s something else entirely to be overextended. There’s just too much going on right now. If I’m lucky, I may get some sleep by Halloween.”

“So bring in a few more part-timers,” Tina suggested. “You already have Claire, and I’m available for full time for as long as you need me.”

“You’re hired.” Steffie pulled up the shades in the windows that faced the Bay. “How ’bout your daughter? What does she have going on after school?”

“Not a whole lot right now. She’s off the field hockey team since she injured her knee, so she’s free in the afternoon. How many extra hands do you think you’ll need?”

“Maybe two or three, and I’ll only need them for ten days.”

“I’ll check with Heather and see if she and one or two of her friends could come in.”

“Great. As long as I can get a few hours each day.” Steffie turned the “Closed” sign to “Open.” “I leave it in your hands. I’ve been so busy these past few days,
I haven’t even gotten to stop at my house.” She smiled dreamily. “My glorious house …”

“Bit off more than you can chew?” Tina opened the cash register for the day.

“Well, you make the call.” Stef opened one of the windows to let in some fresh morning air. “We have chocolate, vanilla, and chocolate mint for the run on Saturday, and the lavender honey for the one hundred fifty or so guests who’ll be attending Dallas’s birthday party the following week. My brother wants that to be a surprise, so I’m not supposed to tell anyone I’m making it.” She rolled her eyes. “And I still have to make my daily supply for the shop.”

“I’m almost afraid to remind you that you agreed to make chocolate monster mash for the annual St. Dennis Halloween Parade.”

“Arrgghh! Someone just take me outside, stand me up against the wall, and shoot me.” Steffie pretended to pound her head on the cooler.

“Oh, can I have Scoop?” Tina’s sister, Claire, asked brightly as she reported in for the morning. “Waterfront anything is so pricey these days.”

“And if you’d leave me your new house, I’d be really happy,” Tina added. “I could sell it and use the proceeds to pay the tuition bills. Did I mention that my daughter Amanda wants to go to law school?”

“Sure.” Steffie tossed a container of vanilla beans onto the work station. “And feel free to dance on my grave after the will is read.”

“Will do.” Tina grinned, then added with due solemnity, “Respectfully, of course.”

*   *   *

Stef had wisely moved her alarm clock into the bathroom on Friday night so she’d be forced to get up and turn off the noise, which grew ever louder between the time it began as a soft buzz until it was silenced with a smack. By the time she made it to the bathroom, it had reached jackhammer level. Grumbling and groaning, she showered and dressed in a T-shirt that had
RUN FOR NATALIE
on the front, and a picture of Nat before she began treatments screened onto the back. According to Grant, they’d made several hundred dollars on the sale of the shirts during the two weeks since they’d been selling, and he expected to double that by selling them at the registration table.