The Focaccia Fatality (11 page)

Her smile faltered as BettyJo looked at all the baked goods that filled the shop. “Have you had any sales today?”

I shrugged. “One.”

“I’m so sorry, Melina. This is terrible.”

“I know. Mrs. Gallagher and her
dear
husband threatened to ruin me and by gosh, I think they just might. Come on, let’s have tea.” I took her elbow and we went through the swinging doors.

After BettyJo left for her scheduled readings, I returned to the store front. Not a soul walked by, cars whizzed up and down the street, and nobody came in for bread. Around noon, I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich and heard the bell tinkle when the front door opened.

I’d entered the shop and stopped short when I saw Mrs. Peterson’s estate lawyer’s secretary standing before the counter, an envelope in her hand. Her expression was all business and my heart sank. Usually, the woman was cheerful when she came by, and often bought a loaf of bread before she left. That wasn’t on her agenda today. I could tell by the look on her face.

“Hey there, how are you?” I asked with a smile.

“Fine, thank you. Attorney Abernathy asked that I hand deliver this to you.” She shoved the envelope toward me as though it burned her skin to hold it.

I took it from her and ripped it open as the woman walked toward the door. “Wait a minute, will you?” I asked as I read the single sheet of paper. I held the eviction notice in my hands. My lease ran out at the end of the month and I wouldn’t be offered a chance to renew. I was expected to have removed all my belongings from the property by midnight on December thirty-first.

My heart couldn’t have sunk any lower without coming through the tips of my toes. “What’s this about?” I asked as I brandished the paper toward her.

“Just what it says. I’m sorry, Melina, but your reputation is bad for business. We’ve had several complaints about you and the things that happen concerning you. It was a decision that Mr. Abernathy made, not of my doing. I hope you understand.”

Plainly, the woman wanted to get as far away from me and my shop as she could. Whether she agreed with Abernathy or not, she was uncomfortable. I nodded, watched her rush out the door and disappear up the street, and then I let the tears spill over.

Once I’d locked the front door and turned the sign to closed, I hurried through the swinging doors and cried. Life stinks and when you’re down, somebody comes along and kicks you because they can. I blubbered until there were no tears left. My livelihood was gone. There’d be no more customers, no happy days making bread in my small Hole in the Wall Bakery. I was done, finished. All because I’d crossed the wrong person and he’d taken his aggravation out on me. Hells bells.

I washed my face at the kitchen sink, stamped around griping for a half hour or so, and then made tartlets for Charlie’s get together. In all that time, not one person had knocked at the front door looking for daily bread.

When seven o’clock rolled around, I’d changed into festive clothes, and delivered my baked goods to the homeless shelter. Upon my return, Aidan stood outside the back door, his hand raised to knock.

“Good evening, Aidan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

He turned in surprise and answered, “I’ve come for an answer, Melina. You’ve had enough time to make up your mind.” He kissed my cheek.

“Come on in.” I beckoned him inside. “I’m about to go over to Charlie Franklin’s for a small party, and I have to get the snack I made for the affair. Why don’t you join us?”

“Surely, I’m not welcome,” Aidan said with a shake of his head.

“Why not? Americans don’t get all bent out of shape when someone extra shows up for a party. It’s only us renters who’ll be there, and there’ll be food. Come on, come with me,” I cajoled.

“Sure, then, yes, I’ll go,” Aidan said and smiled.

He wandered the bakery kitchen while I wrapped the tartlets. When I turned to say I was ready, I noticed the angry look in his eyes and his features were hard.

“Your front window is broken and you’ve been evicted?” He held the letter from the attorney in his hand. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Look, don’t get upset. The police were here last night and helped me cover the window after they took the report. They’re searching for
Fast Teddy
, the dumb shit who signed the note he wrapped around the rock that came through the window.” I shook my head and drew a breath. “The estate lawyer sent his secretary over with that letter today. He and Mr. Gallagher might be friends and this is the end result of it. I’m sure when Sean saw Gallagher arguing with the man in the restaurant, it was Attorney Abernathy. Gallagher’s wife and he, himself, threatened to ruin me. Now it seems they have.” I swallowed hard and took a deep breath in an effort to stave off the onslaught of tears threatening to overflow.

I turned away and grabbed my purse, the tartlets, and said, “Let’s go, shall we?”

Those deep blue eyes missed nothing as Aidan studied me. With a brief nod. He took the plate of tartlets from me and ushered me out the door.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he murmured.

“No, we won’t,” I insisted.

“Fine, then, kiss me.”

“I can do that,” I said with a wavering laugh.

We stood on the deck for some time before a cough interrupted our smooching session.

“You two are blocking the walkway,” BettyJo said with a snicker.

“Right you are,” Aidan said with a laugh.

The three of us went two doors down and found the party in full swing. Carl and Bill hailed us when we entered. George Carly filled two glasses with wine, and handed a beer to Aidan. Helena Bentwood took the tartlets from me and set them among the other goodies. BettyJo had brought chips and dip, which were added to the rest.

An hour later, we were all a bit tipsy and very relaxed. Aidan never left my side for a moment, which felt so very good. If ever I needed to love, it was now. BettyJo entertained us with goofy predictions while Helena passed out snacks. Bill and Carl sang Christmas carols with a humorous twist, my favorite being the Hawaiian Christmas song
Mele Kalikimaka
.

The evening wound down, as did our humor. Each renter straggled through the rear door of Charlie’s shop with wishes for a good night and a Merry Christmas. I smiled, tucked my hand into Aidan’s, and together, we walked toward my place. Once inside, I beckoned Aidan up the stairs and into my bed.

Our time together wasn’t wasted with idle chatter, but was filled with the noises of lovemaking. We lay silent for a while afterward. I leaned up on my elbow and stared into Aidan’s face.

“Yes,” I said softly.

He turned his face toward me and smiled. “Yes, what, lass?”

“You know.”

“Say it. I want you to say it,” he insisted.

“I’ll marry you.”

“Because?” he asked.

“I love you more than I could ever have imagined. I want a life with you, and children if you want them, too. As long as we can have a long life together, I’m willing to marry you. How’s that?” I asked.

His answer came out in a somewhat pensive tone while he flicked reasons off with his fingers. “Because you no longer have a business, or because you don’t wish to stay in America, or because you no longer have to care for Sean? Not because of those reasons?”

I sat upright and said, “None of them. I realized when we went to East Greenwich just how deeply I love you, and that a life with you and no one else is all I want.”

“Connor and Sean will move into the cottage on my estate. Porter Anderson has all the criminals in hand, and you are all mine. Have I got that right?” Aidan asked.

“That would be the sum of it, yeah,” I answered.

With a sly smile, Aidan teased, “Surely, you’ll have a bakery in Scotland?”

I laughed and kissed him. “Surely, we can discuss that at another time,” I said with a grin as I snuggled in close to him.

“It’s a deal, then, lass,” Aidan said softly as he leaned in for a kiss.

I lay awake for some time considering how my life would soon change, what it would be like to live in Scotland, and what it would be like living with Aidan. I was up to the challenge all these changes would bring. A bakery? Well, that would be a major undertaking, but with the support of Aidan and Seanmhair, I could accomplish anything, I was certain of that. If nothing else, I’d learned how unpredictable life could be. But with love and support from those around me, I could handle whatever might come my way.

J.M. Griffin is a student of the human condition, wielding the written craft
to stimulate the imagination. Like an artist, J.M. uses blank pages to draw vivid characters.
A Crusty Murder
and
A Crouton Murder
are the previous two books in J.M.’s
Deadly Bakery Series.
J.M. is also the author of the
Esposito Series
. Her other books include
For Love of Livvy
,
Dirty Trouble
,
Dead Wrong
,
Cold Moon Dead
, and
Season For Murder
. J.M. lives in rural Rhode Island, a colorful and interesting state.