Chocolate Most Deadly (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (23 page)

CHAPTER
48

Blanche Speltzer was standing in
the middle of her living room, sipping a glass of white wine and talking with
Mrs. Swift, when I arrived at her place that night with Trent and Dina. The
crowd was a variety of ages, interests and backgrounds: young couples and
gray-haired widowers, bookish college students and bejeweled debutantes,
elegant matrons and middle-aged women that I recognized from Sky High. After
visiting the makeshift bar in the dining room for something to drink, we inched
through the crowd and found a spot in one corner beside an étagère filled with
framed photos of Blanche and her late husband.

“Just in time,” Dina said. “It
looks like our hostess is about to make an announcement.”

I glanced around the room,
eventually finding Blanche positioned beside the fireplace.

“May I have your attention,
please?” she said to the chattering crowd of Crescent Creek residents. “I’d
like to make a toast.”

Nearly everyone in the room stopped
talking, with the exception of two guests who ignored Blanche’s request. The
oblivious duo—blue-haired retirees named Florence Hastings and Myra Talbot—sat
with their heads nearly touching and their mouths going a mile a minute. I wondered
how long it would take Blanche to say something. She answered my question by
sticking two fingers in her mouth and filling the room with a high-pitched
whistle.

“Flo!” she yelled. “And Myra! Can
you zip it for five minutes?”

The two guilty chatterers blushed
with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Blanche!” Myra apologized.
“We were comparing notes on that new cosmetic surgeon that just opened up in
Boulder.”

A few of the guests murmured in
appreciation.

“How many of these people have gone
under the knife?” Trent whispered to Dina.

She held one finger to her lips.

“Well, it sounds like—”

I dug an elbow into his ribs. “Keep
quiet,” I said softly. “She’s got new hearing aids. Do you want to—”

“Kate?” Blanche called. “Do you
have something to share with the other students?”

The line earned a laugh from the
crowd, many of whom had survived Blanche’s history class during the decades she
taught at Crescent Creek High.

“No, I’m good,” I said with a
wobbly smile. “I was just telling Chief Deputy Walsh that we should pipe down
until you’ve finished.”

Trent shrugged, but kept his mouth
closed. Dina shook her head and looked down at the toes of her black patent
leather pumps.

“As I was saying,” Blanche
continued, “many of you know that I’ve hosted these little soirées for years as
a way to shine the spotlight on some of our community’s more noteworthy
residents. Once it was Wallace Babson for winning the top prize in the Savory
Skillet Contest at the State Fair with his Tater Tot Fiesta Fantasy. And
another year, I hosted a very special group to honor Pearl Dundee for using her
CPR know-how to save Maxine Babson’s life after the poor dear choked on a bite
of the aforementioned Tater Tot Fiesta Fantasy.”

Everyone in the room chuckled at
the memory of Wallace and Maxine. While the incident was a close call for Mrs.
Babson, it was also the last time Wallace had prepared his Savory Skillet
Contest winner.

“Well, this year is a little
different,” Blanche continued. “If you’ve been following my Whispering Wanda
blog, you may have an inkling about what I’m going to announce this evening.”

A few people in the back of the
room buzzed with anticipation. I glanced over at two women who were staring at
me while having a hushed conversation. When they realized that I was on to
them, both suddenly turned red and looked away.

“Kate?”

When Blanche said my name again, I
was daydreaming about Viveca England’s brother and his close call with the
poisoned cupcakes.

“Kate Reed?”

I gulped in a breath and raised my
hand. “I’m right here, Mrs. Speltzer.”

Blanche smiled and gestured for me
to come forward. “Oh, Katie,” she said as I made my way through the crowd. “You
can call me Blanche, hon.”

As I walked between Carson Pratt
and his wife Imogene, she touched my arm lightly. “You two would make a lovely
couple,” she whispered.

I didn’t understand the comment,
but kept moving toward Blanche. When I walked up, she reached out and gave my
hand a gracious squeeze. Then she leaned in, whispered that I should stay put
and raised her glass again.

“To Kate Reed!” she said loudly.

The room erupted in a chorus of
cheers and applause.

 “And I know that our second
guest of honor is here,” Blanche continued, “because I saw that tall drink of
water walk through the front door about a half hour ago.”

The hushed conversations and
speculative whispers died done to a faint hum.

“Where are you, Zack Hutton?”

At the sound of the newspaper
photographer’s name, my heart skittered over a few missed beats. And when I saw
him step around the corner from the dining room, I felt lightheaded. His hair
was brushed back, a light covering of stubble hugged his jaw and his muscular
torso pressed against a burgundy polo shirt that he wore untucked over a pair
of chinos.

“There you are!” Blanche said.
“C’mon over here, you handsome shutterbug!”

Everyone in the room watched Zack
stroll up and plant a quick peck on Blanche’s cheek. She smiled cheerfully and
directed him to stand beside me.

“Well, then,” she continued. “Many
of you already know that I’m opening Crescent Creek’s very first matchmaking
service.” Several of the guests nodded and smiled. “For those of you who
haven’t heard the news, my new enterprise will be called ‘Whispering Wanda’s
World of Romance’ in honor of the blog that I’ve been writing for the past few
years.”

“How does she even know the word
‘blog’?” I heard Trent mutter to Dina. “Isn’t that usually something only
younger people would—”

“Deputy Chief Walsh?” Blanche
shouted. “Do
you
have something to share with the class?”

Trent’s face turned a memorable
shade of cherry with highlights of utter humiliation.

“No, Mrs. Speltzer,” he said
meekly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am.”

“As well you should be,” Blanche
said, glaring at him down the length of her nose. “Do you mind terribly if I
finish?” she added. “Or would you like to have the floor?”

Trent shook his head and focused
his attention on the floor.

“Now then,” Blanche continued.
“Where was I?”

Mrs. Swift stepped from the crowd
and whispered in Blanche’s ear. After graciously thanking her good friend for
the assistance, Blanche proceeded to elaborate on the announcement about her
new matchmaking enterprise. Whispering Wanda’s World of Romance would be
headquartered in a one-room office in downtown Crescent Creek. It would be open
for consultations and inquiries from noon until five o’clock every weekday
afternoon. Emergency appointments could be arranged as long as they didn’t
interfere with Blanche’s naps, yoga classes or bingo tournaments.

“Whispering Wanda’s will be of the
people, by the people and for the people,” Blanche said. “Unless someone is
trying to find a suitable breeding companion for their dog or thoroughbred,”
she added. “In which case, I will call in one of my veterinarian buddies to
lend a hand.”

The crowd chuckled at the joke, but
the laughter was brief. Blanche tapped her wine glass with one of her diamond
rings to quiet the group.

“To inaugurate my new business,”
she said, smiling first at me and then Zack, “I plan to find proper romantic
partners for these two darling singletons.”

Zack glanced over and raised one
eyebrow. I felt my cheeks grow warm before I looked away. Everyone in the room
was staring at us; dozens of curious glances accompanied by a low murmur of
whispered remarks. Luckily, before I began to sweat profusely or faint from
embarrassment, Blanche raised her glass of wine and toasted not only Zack and
me, but everyone in the room.

“Each one of you brightens my
days,” Blanche said with a serene smile. “You are as luminous as the noonday
sun and as vivid as the stars twinkling in the midnight sky.” She took a tiny
sip of wine before lowering her glass. “Very well then,” she added. “Please
enjoy the rest of the evening. If you have a chance, take a moment to
congratulate Kate and Zack on their exciting opportunity as the first two
clients of my new dating service!”

I gave her a quick hug, shook
Zack’s hand and made a mad dash back to the corner where Trent and Dina were
grinning at me like mischievous children.

“Did you have any idea that was
going to happen?” Trent asked.

I glared at him silently.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Dina
said.

My eyes burned two tiny holes in
her forehead. While I was waiting for one of them to apologize for the
unbridled glee in their eyes, I saw Zack Hutton navigating the crowded room. He
was heading directly for our corner.

CHAPTER
49

“I’m going into the kitchen for
another beer,” Zack said after joining us. “Anybody need anything?”

I looked at Trent. He shook his
head and said he was leaving soon anyway.

“Be right back,” the handsome
photographer said.

“She’ll be right here,” Trent
called.

I glowered at him as soon as Zack
was gone. “Did you arrange this?”

“Quite possibly,” Trent answered,
giving Dina a speedy glance.

“Why?”

“Because I knew that Blanche needed
one single guy and one single girl for tonight’s announcement, ” he said. “And
because I’ve heard things around town.”

 “Like what?”

“Oh, let’s just say that I heard
the queen bee of a particular bakery café blushed wildly when a dashing
newspaper photographer was taking her picture.”

I glared for a few more seconds
before surrendering to the smile that was desperate to appear. Dina excused
herself, saying she needed to powder her nose, leaving me alone with Trent.

“Well,” I said after she
disappeared into the throng of noisy guests, “that’s very possibly the most
gallant thing you’ve ever done, Deputy Chief Walsh.”

He laughed. “Gallant?”

“Same thing as valiant or
chivalrous,” I said.

“I know what it means, Katie. I
just think it’s funny to hear you say something so erudite.”

I laughed. “Erudite?”

“Hey, I know how to talk pretty,
too.” Trent sipped his beer and waved back at a redhead in a slinky dress.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Penelope Something,” he said.
“People call her Penny.”

“Is she new in town? I don’t think
I’ve seen her around before.”

He explained that she was a
location scout for a big time Hollywood director. The guy was thinking about
shooting exterior scenes for his new movie in Crescent Creek. Penny was in town
to get a feel for how our little Xanadu would look on film.

“And don’t get your hopes up,” he
added. “All of the major roles have been cast.”

I had more of my wine and watched
as Zack came out of the kitchen with a fresh beer only to be waylaid by
Penelope Something.

“Is she scouting a location at the
moment?” I asked.

Trent shook his head. “I do believe
that’s what you call flirting,” he said. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Not yet,” I said with a wink. “But
the night is young.”

We stood quietly watching the room.
Blanche moved from one small group to the next, smiling and laughing and making
everyone feel welcome. She could be a tough cookie when she wanted, but I could
tell that her true calling was to be warm, friendly and thoughtful.

“You’ve had quite a week,” Trent
said, raising his beer. “I’d like to make a toast to Crescent Creek’s busiest
retired PI.”

I touched my glass of chardonnay to
the side of his bottle.

“Adam Caldwell told me all about
the thing with Lois Jordan and Jake Breen,” Trent continued. “You should be
proud of yourself.”

I sipped my wine. “For what?” I asked.
“Being busy?”

“Being a good friend to Viveca,” he
answered. “And for your steadfast pursuit of justice.”

I smiled. “Thanks for the kind
words,” I said, holding up my empty glass. “And if you will excuse me, I think
now would be a good time for the steadfast pursuit of more vino.”

After making my way to the kitchen
and refilling my glass, I decided to step outside and admire the flowers in the
garden behind Blanche’s bungalow. A cool breeze was coming in from the north
and wisps of clouds brushed with red and gold drifted by in the distance. I
made my way down a narrow path and sat at one end of a wide stone bench
surrounded by a neatly-trimmed hedge. As I felt myself relaxing and took a sip
of wine, I heard a voice from somewhere behind me.

“Mind if I join you?”

I’d been so engrossed in the simple
beauty of the garden that I hadn’t heard Zack Hutton approaching.

“That was pretty awkward in there
with Blanche,” he said, joining me on the bench.

I smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“If I’d known what she was up to, I
probably would’ve declined the invitation.”

“That makes two of us,” I said.

He winced slightly. “Can I be
completely honest?”

“Always,” I said.

“I’d planned to ask you out to
dinner,” he told me. “But after tonight, it might seem kind of awkward.”

“How so?”

He blinked. “Um. Well. I guess
because…” On some men the stammering would’ve been forced and unnatural; on
Zack, it was endearing and genuine.

I was staring at him, waiting to
hear what he would say next, when Mrs. Swift suddenly walked out of the house
and into the garden. She paused briefly and smiled at Zack and me like a proud
teacher watching over a couple of pupils finally achieving a long-desired goal.

“Isn’t this lovely?” she said. “The
two most eligible singletons in all of Crescent Creek, enjoying a quiet moment
together in the garden!”

I felt a shudder deep inside, like
a cauldron of nerves unexpectedly boiling over. “Mrs. Swift!” I said anxiously.
“Are you enjoying the party?”

She made her way to where we were
sitting and indicated with one hand that she wanted the space between us. Then
she slowly lowered herself onto the bench.

“Yes, indeed,” she said. “It’s been
a lovely evening so far.” She smiled at Zack and then glanced back at me. “And
what about you two? How does it feel to be thrust into the spotlight without
warning by our dear friend Blanche?”

I frowned. “The term ‘bamboozled
and hoodwinked’ comes to mind.”

Mrs. Swift nodded and smiled.
“Blanche is actually completely harmless,” she said. “And she really does mean
well.”

I let the pronouncement sink in for
a few moments before I suddenly remembered my conversation with Mrs. Swift at
Sky High Pies.

“You still owe me the rest of your
story,” I said.

“That’s right,” she said. “I’m
touched that you remembered, Kate.”

“Well, it isn’t everyday that
someone says they’re going to tell me the secret of a long and happy life!”

Zack leaned forward. “What was
that?”

“Mrs. Swift was going to tell me
her secret the other day,” I explained.

“But we were interrupted,” the old
woman said, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Should I finish the rest of it
now?”

“Absolutely!” Zack cheered. “Is it
okay if I listen, too?”

Mrs. Swift nodded, cleared her
throat delicately and smiled at the two of us. “When I met my dear husband,”
she began, “he asked me if I knew how to be truly happy and fulfilled in life.
I was young then, young and naïve. I thought happiness would come from material
possessions and wealth and status. But during the decades that we were
together, my darling taught me that the true secret to a long and happy life is
contained in three simple words.”

When she paused, I felt my heart
swell. Between the gentle sound of her voice, the beautiful garden setting and
the handsome man sitting on the bench beside Mrs. Swift, the moment seemed like
something straight out of a Hollywood movie.

“Can either of you guess what they
are?” she asked.

Zack smiled. “I love you?”

Mrs. Swift shook her head. “Those
are lovely words,” she said. “But my husband’s advice involved an entirely
different phrase.”

“Take more naps?” I suggested. “Is
that what he told you?”

The old woman laughed. “No, but
that’s always a good idea,” she said. “The three words that my husband proposed
as the secret to a long and happy life are really quite simple, my dears. And
they are:
Let it go
.”

I felt a chill along my spine as
Mrs. Swift shared her late husband’s words of wisdom.

“He was talking about everything
from petty arguments and small regrets to mistakes that you’ve made,” she said
warmly. “Let go of sadness. Let go of anger. Let go of disappointment and
bitterness and jealousy.”

As she continued to talk about her
husband and their many years of marriage, I glanced at Zack.

He winked.

I smiled.

And in that moment, with the stars
overhead, a cool breeze rustling the leaves and joyful laughter spilling out
through the open door, I suspected that an entirely new adventure had just
begun for me in the small garden behind a tidy bungalow on a late summer night.