Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) (24 page)

“Proposed?” It took a few moments for Candy’s brain to absorb what she’d just heard, but then her mouth fell open and she almost rose out of her chair. “You mean
marriage
?”

On that last word her voice became so loud that guests at nearby tables glanced in their direction. “Are you
kidding
me? Herr Georg Wolfsburger
proposed
to you?”

Maggie glanced quickly in either direction. “Well, you don’t have to announce it like that to the whole town.” She reached out and patted Candy’s hand in a comforting manner. “Take a deep breath, honey. It’ll be okay. I know you’re a little shocked right now but you just need a couple of moments to adjust. I dropped it on you kind of suddenly. I apologize for that.”

“You’re
serious
?”

Maggie nodded. “Totally. He mentioned it several times just today, as a matter of fact. He wants us to elope. He’s talking about Vegas.”

“Vegas? You’re kidding me!”

“You already said that, and no, I’m not kidding you. I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my best friend.”

Candy didn’t know what to say. Finally, she managed, “So, are you two . . . in love?”

“Well.” Maggie pulled her hand back and took a long, long drink of her wine. When she was finished, she wiped the corners of her mouth with her white cloth napkin. “That’s where the rubber meets the road, isn’t it? That’s why I wanted to meet with you. To talk it over.”

“Talk what over?”

“You know—what I’m going to say to Herr Georg . . . well, just Georg.”

Candy scrunched up her face. “What?”

“Well, that is his first name, you know. He said I should just call him ‘Georg.’ It sounds funny to call him ‘Herr,’ don’t you think?”

“Yes, but . . . I understand that but . . . you mean you haven’t given him an answer yet? You’re not getting married?”

“No—not yet, at least. So far I’ve just been pretending like I’m not taking him seriously. And at first I wasn’t. But he keeps giving me this . . .
look
. It’s like I’m the only person in the world.” Maggie’s expression took on a dreamy appearance as her mind started to drift, but then she refocused and leaned forward across the table, her voice lowering. “I don’t mind telling you that I haven’t had anyone look at me that way in a long, long time. Okay, well, maybe never. Ed certainly never looked at me like that—unless I was cooking his dinner. But the look Georg gives me is just so . . . passionate. I believe he’s being completely honest when he says he wants to marry me. So I have to give him some sort of straight answer—you know, because that’s the adult thing to do.”

“And what are you going to say to him? Are you thinking of marrying him—or are you going to try to let him down easy?” Now that she was over her initial shock, Candy found this whole conversation incredibly intriguing, since she knew both parties so well. And she realized she was suddenly very happy for them.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” A cloud of uncertainty crossed Maggie’s face. “I mean, he certainly
seems
like a nice man, and . . . he’s
certainly
successful . . . and he’s obviously very talented. I mean, I think he’s a good person, but . . . marriage is a big step. Especially with someone I haven’t known that well until just recently, when I started working for him at the bakery.”

“Well,” Candy said, “let me start by saying there’s not a better man in Cape Willington, other than my own father, of course. Herr George . . . Georg . . . well, he has a heart of gold. You know that. I worked with him for three years, on and off. He can be temperamental at times and moody in the mornings, especially when he hasn’t had his coffee. But he’s also one of the warmest, kindest people I’ve ever known. I think he would make a wonderful husband—if, of course, that’s what you decide to do.”

“I agree,” Maggie said. “And I can add a number of other positive traits as well. He always smells like a freshly baked pie. That’s a big point in his favor—especially if you love pie the way I do, and I know you do. His hands are well manicured and amazingly nimble. And his eyebrows are like soft white feathers. But what about the cons?”

“Cons?”

“I need someone to play devil’s advocate—to help me look at this from both sides, so I don’t make the wrong decision.”

“Oh, I see.” Candy understood but she had to think a minute. “Well, he’s quite a bit older than you, right?”

“Eighteen years,” Maggie agreed.

“Not that it’s much of a problem these days,” Candy added quickly. “Age doesn’t make that much difference—at least, I don’t think so. But it’s something to keep in mind.”

“Right,” Maggie said. “We’ve already talked about it. What else?”

“Hmm, well, he only lives in Cape Willington part of the year. He heads south in the winter.”

Maggie nodded. “He’s addressed that as well. He says he’ll live wherever I’m at. If I want to stay here in town all year long, then he’ll stay here with me. Or I can go south with him. Either one will work with him.”

“Wow.” Candy took a moment to shake her head. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“I know,” Maggie said, “which makes me wonder why I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

“Maybe you’re just not ready.”

Now Maggie was silent for a few moments as she took some time to think that over while they both sipped at their wine spritzers. “You could be right,” she said finally. “I’ve only been a single woman for a few years now. And to be honest, I’ve kind of been enjoying it. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been completely free to do exactly what I what, whatever that might be—as long as I stay within my budget, of course. So I’m relatively happy with the way things are. But I
do
want to get married again . . .
someday
.”

“Just not today?”

Maggie nodded. “Exactly.”

“Do you want to keep working for him? And seeing him?”

“Of course!” Maggie said brightly.

“Then tell him that. Tell him you like the idea of starting a relationship with him but you need a little more time to see how it goes before you start thinking seriously about marriage. If he really loves you, he’ll wait for you to decide what you want to do.”

“You think so?” Maggie asked hopefully.

Candy nodded firmly. “I do. He’s a good man, and he’ll understand. Talk to him,” she said as her phone buzzed on the table.

She picked it up and checked the display. She’d received a text from Wanda, requesting her presence in Town Park.

“I have no idea what’s going on over there,” Candy said, shaking her head as she keyed off the phone, “but I have to get running. Are you okay? Have we solved anything?”

Maggie gave her an honest smile. “I think so. This has helped a lot. Thanks.”

Now it was Candy’s turn to place her hand on Maggie’s. “I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll always be there for you. Friends forever, right?”

Maggie’s smile broadened. “Friends forever.”

“And having a wedding like that around here would be absolutely fantastic, whenever it happens,” Candy added, her eyes twinkling at the possibilities. “Can you imagine your wedding cake? Herr Georg will make one for you four stories tall!”

“I know,” Maggie said happily. “And you’ll help me plan it? When I’m ready?”

Candy rose and gave her friend a big hug. “Just try and keep me away.”

Five minutes later they parted ways. Maggie headed back up the avenue to the bakery to rendezvous with Herr Georg for a private dinner, while Candy crossed the street to Town Park to meet with the ladies of the Cape Willington Heritage Protection League, quite uncertain of what she was walking into.

There was a small crowd waiting for her as she approached the park’s central area, where annual events such as the Winter Moose Fest and the fall Pumpkin Bash were held. Booths and tents were set all around the periphery, the streamers flying from lampposts had multiplied, and the place had a festive feel. A number of people applauded her as she came down the sidewalk, as if she were some sort of celebrity making her way along the red carpet. She spotted Mason Flint, chairman of the town council, standing in a small knot in the midst of the crowd with Cotton Colby, Elvira Tremble, Brenda Jenkins, Alice Rainesford, and Wanda Boyle, who had her camera out.

They were all looking at her.

Candy slowed her pace, suddenly wary at finding herself in the spotlight. “What’s this all about?” she asked no one in particular.

It looked like some sort of kickoff event for the Strawberry Fair. And indeed, they had strung a red ribbon between two lampposts along the sidewalk in front of her. Brenda Jenkins stood by with a large scissors.

“It’s a small impromptu gathering,” Mason told her with a gap-toothed smile, beckoning her forward, “to bring a little recognition to one of our town’s most honored citizens.”

“And who might that be?” Candy asked, looking around for the guest of honor.

“You!” Cotton Colby cried, and they all gave her a hearty round of applause.

“Me?” Candy was mystified. “What did I do?”

“You just saved the Strawberry Fair, that’s all!” Cotton said excitedly.

They’d set up a small PA speaker and microphone at the center of the gathering, and Cotton stepped up to it. She switched on the mic, tapped it a few times, flashed a confident smile, and started in.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank all of you for coming out here today on such short notice. As many of you know, I’m Cotton Colby, president of the Cape Willington Heritage Protection League, and I’d like to welcome everyone to the official ribbon cutting ceremony for our first annual Strawberry Fair!”

The applause started up again, accompanied by several well-rehearsed smiles. Wanda stepped forward to snap a few photos, and Cotton continued.

“As many of you know, we’ve been planning this particular event for several months now as a way to promote all of our village’s many positive aspects. And we’ve had the support of many wonderful people around town. I’d especially like to thank Chairman Flint, members of the town council, Chief Durr and everyone at the Cape Willington Police Department, all of our volunteers and supporters, and the Pruitt Foundation, which underwrote this event for us this weekend. We’re very grateful for their financial support. And now, I’ll turn over the festivities to Chairman Flint, who will introduce our guest of honor.”

With a final smile Cotton stepped aside, and Mason Flint approached the microphone. Since he was taller than she, he took a moment to adjust the microphone stand, tested it as well, and then gazed out across the crowd with a calm, seasoned demeanor. He began smoothly.

“Thank you, Cotton. I would just like to echo what she said and welcome everyone to our wonderful village. We appreciate everyone’s support, and I’d like to give a special thanks to Cotton herself and all the ladies of the Heritage Protection League for their efforts in planning and staging this exciting new event in our community. We’re very pleased to add it to our annual town calendar, and I hope we’ll be celebrating the Strawberry Fair for many years to come. In just a moment we’re going to cut the ribbon and officially declare the event open. But first I would like to recognize someone in our audience here today who was instrumental in ensuring the success of this event. From what I understand, without the assistance of Candy Holliday, the co-owner of Blueberry Acres and interim editor of our local newspaper, the
Cape Crier,
there would probably be no Strawberry Fair, since Candy helped arrange for a community strawberry-picking event tomorrow morning out at Crawford’s Berry Farm. I hope to see all of you out there, so we can make sure we have plenty of berries for tomorrow’s Fair!”

He paused, and looked in Candy’s direction. “Now, if you’d like to join us, we’ll cut the ribbon.”

Everyone applauded as someone nudged Candy forward, and somewhat hesitantly she joined Mason and the ladies of the Heritage Protection League. They all gathered around her with wide smiles as Wanda snapped more photos. Cotton then announced that Candy had been named the league’s first honorary member for her contributions to the community. Brenda Jenkins stepped forward to place the scissors into her hands, and after more carefully staged photos, Candy ceremoniously cut the red ribbon, doing her best to smile broadly and look honored, although she was still flummoxed by the whole thing. Everyone applauded again as Mason announced the first annual Strawberry Fair officially open.

And then it was over. Mason shook her hand quickly, gave her an odd look, and headed back up the avenue toward the opera house, while the crowd began to dissipate, gravitating toward a few of the food booths that had opened for the evening, although the primary events would not take place until the following day.

Candy handed the scissors back to Brenda, and Wanda gave her a big clap on the back. “You handled that beautifully, Chief. I got some great shots!” she said. “I’ll get them on the website right away. It’ll be great publicity for the Fair—and for the paper.”

Candy nodded. “Sounds like a good idea, though I’m not sure what just happened. How long have you known about this?”

Wanda waved a hand. “Cotton texted me an hour ago. They put it together on the fly. Thought it might be good publicity—and they’re genuinely happy you set up the berry picking tomorrow.”

“Yes, we definitely are,” said Cotton, stepping into the conversation. “Thank you for being such a good sport about all this. We didn’t really plan to surprise you, but it just turned out that way. You truly saved our event, though, and for that we’re grateful. Della’s sending out e-mail messages right now, as we speak, to everyone on our list. We hope to have several dozen people out at the berry farm tomorrow. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t intervened for us and made this happen.”

“Well, I guess I was just in the right place at the right time,” Candy said honestly. “Fortunately it all worked out.”

“And we’re serious about an honorary membership,” Elvira Tremble said, joining them. “We talked it over and voted. It was unanimous.”

“Unanimous?” Candy looked around. “But your whole group’s not here. I don’t see Mrs. Fairweather.”

“Unfortunately, she isn’t feeling well,” Cotton said. “She’s home. But she gave us her blessing. She said she thought you’d make an excellent honorary member, considering all you’ve done for the league this week.”

“Mrs. Fairweather is home? But I was just over at her place, and she’s not there.”

“I talked to her on the phone just a little while ago, and that’s where she said she was at,” Elvira confirmed. “She’s been cooped up there all day—which is somewhat unfortunate, since we could have used her help. Fortunately, Alice stepped in and we managed to get everything done.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Candy said. “Her place is dark. It’s all closed up.”

“Maybe she’s gone out,” Cotton suggested.

“Possibly. But you just said she wasn’t feeling well. Why would she go out?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s just a mix-up,” Elvira said, her clipped tone returning. “Nothing to worry about.”

Candy hesitated. She briefly thought of asking Elvira about her activities at the historical society’s museum, and her alleged interest in the comings and goings of Miles Crawford, but her cell phone buzzed, distracting her. The ladies had fallen into a conversation among themselves about last-minute preparations for the Strawberry Fair, so she fished out her phone and checked the display.

It was a message from Neil:
Better get out here right away.