Fudging the Books (29 page)

Hershey dashed at him. Claws bared, he bounded onto Simon’s face and latched on. Tigger, taking his cue from his former enemy, did the same, landing on Simon’s groin. Simon yowled at the top of his lungs.

Serves you right
, I mused.

I wrenched the bottle of wine out of his hands, planted a foot on his abdomen, and wielded the bottle with a two-handed hold. “Don’t move!”

The front door squeaked open. “Jenna?” a man called.

“Rhett!” I’d never been so happy to hear his voice. I mean, I had, but considering the situation . . .

The front door banged shut. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t dare lose my hold on Simon.

“In here!” I yelled.

Rhett pushed through the drapes and drew alongside me. He gazed down at my quarry. “What the—”

“He killed Alison.” I quickly recapped Simon’s confession.

Rhett bent down, nudged Hershey off Simon’s face, and landed a punch squarely on Simon’s jaw. Simon’s head
rocked to the left. His eyes fluttered closed.
Out for the count
. Too bad his count wasn’t anything like Alison’s.

Hershey joined Tigger at his lower-region post. The two nuzzled chins.

Rhett caressed my face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted one more kiss before I left town.”

As he leaned in, I heard the front door whoosh open and bang closed.

Bailey yelled, “Jenna!”

I pushed apart from Rhett and cried, “In here!”

Bailey rushed into the stockroom, followed by Tito. Bailey gaped at Simon. “What’s going on? Is he . . . Did he . . .”

I nodded. “He murdered Alison. What are you two doing here?”

Bailey smirked. “Tito missed seeing Hershey.”

The cat heard its name and sprinted to Tito. He bounded into the reporter’s arms.

The front door to the shop opened again. Footsteps pounded the floor. The drapes split apart.

Cinnamon Pritchett took in the scene, drew her weapon, and aimed it at Simon, who was rousing and moving his jaw. “Is there a party I wasn’t invited to?” she quipped. “Jenna, how many times have I told you to answer your cell phone when I’m calling?”

I grinned at Simon. “Told you she’d check up on me!”

C
INNAMON HANDCUFFED SIMON,
read him his rights, and marched him out of The Cookbook Nook. He demanded a lawyer. Cinnamon promised to comply, but she warned him his prospects of being set free in his lifetime were between nil and none.

The next day started out busier than ever. Before opening the shop, the delivery guy showed up with the balance of items we had ordered for Valentine’s Day: cookbooks, fictional foodie books, red- or pink-themed kitchenware, aprons, and decorations. Thank heavens. The special day was a mere two days away. Customers would be frantic to purchase the best, most unique gift for their loved ones.

Bailey nabbed the pink heart-shaped sun catchers and hung them in the display window. Sunlight shot through them. Rays of pink light radiated across the shop. Perfect.

I arranged groupings of spatulas and mitts and salt shakers and pepper mills on tables already filled with Valentine-themed books. I set a Ghirardelli Chocolate cookbook on a metal cookbook holder that had an adorable heart-scrolled top, and placed
The Sweet Book of Candy Making: From
the Simple to the Spectacular—How to Make Caramels, Fudge, Hard Candy, Fondant, Toffee, and More!—
perhaps the longest title I’d ever read on a cookbook cover—on another cookbook holder. It was more of a technique book than a recipe book, but who couldn’t use help with technique? Namely, me! I hung a couple of retro red polka-dotted aprons on the hooks by the front door. I stood there for a moment, fingering an apron, which reminded me of the apron my mother used to wear. Where had it gone? Did my sister have it? I decided to buy one for myself and plucked it off the hook.

“Sale!” I announced.

Bailey laughed.

Aunt Vera had thought ahead and stocked up on a couple of Wilton classics like the heart-shaped Bundt pan and heart-shaped springform pan. She’d also found a darling decorative heart pan by Nordic Ware with a tooled bottom. A single-layer chocolate cake would look fabulous baked in it. In addition, she had remembered to purchase do-it-yourself kits for children so they could make their own bookmark valentines using felt, glue, and paper clips. Quite clever. Tigger had his nose and one paw in the box with the kits.

“Tig-Tig, no!” I chirped.

Tigger offered an impish look. At times, I think he believed he was invisible. Silly cat.

I was setting up the register for the onslaught of customers we expected when Coco hurried into the shop carrying a shopping bag from Sweet Sensations. Her makeup was perfect, her cotton candy–pink dress stylish to the max. Her eyes welled with grateful tears. “I heard about Simon. I can’t believe it. I simply can’t. But if it’s so”—she batted the air with her free hand—“then it’s so. The bigger fool am I. I brought you something.” She pulled a pink-beribboned box out of her shopping bag. “One for you.” She thrust it at me and pulled out another. “Bailey, this is for you.” She fetched a third. “Vera, for you.”

“For me?” my aunt said. “I didn’t do anything.”

Coco’s eyes twinkled. “I saw you rubbing your amulet
on my behalf.” She slung the bag over her forearm. “They’re truffles. White chocolate raspberry.”

“My favorite,” I said.

“I know.” She turned to leave.

I said, “Coco, wait.”

She spun back. The tears that she had been keeping at bay seeped from her eyes.

“We’re always here for you.” I gestured between my aunt and Bailey. “Anytime you want to talk.”

“What I want to do is go through life with eyes wide open from now on.”

“What about your next cookbook? What’s going on with that?”

“I don’t know. Time will tell. One mustn’t crave what one can’t have.” She said it so wistfully. Had she found the slogan in one of our mini inspirational books? “And now I must get back to the shop. We’re overrun with orders.” She hugged us and raced away.

Soon after, a number of the cookbook club women, including Lola, the mayor, and Pepper showed up, each eager to hear what had happened.

Pepper was quite vocal about how she had never trusted Simon. His shifty eyes had tipped her off.

Lola told us Gloria had already put Vines Wine Bistro on the market. She hated the place. The mayor believed Gloria would move to the Wine Country to take care of Simon’s aging mother. There was a huge population up north that needed an exercise guru.

“So much for stand by your man,” Bailey quipped to me.

I knuckled her and said, “I’m sure she’ll return for the trial.”

“I’ll make you a bet.”

“You’re bad.”

“But honest.”

Bailey guided the book club ladies to the table holding the new Valentine’s Day books, and I returned to the sales counter.

I was plunking in a stack of five-dollar bills when Wanda
and Neil Foodie sauntered into the shop. I cut around the counter and hurried to Wanda. She gave me a hug. Neil hung back.

“Jenna, dear,” Wanda said. “You have been such a godsend. Thank you for figuring out who killed my Alison.”

“Bailey was as much a part of the solution as I was.” I gestured to Bailey. She left the group of ladies and joined us.

Wanda hugged her fiercely. “Alison adored you.”

“And I adored her,” Bailey said.

“I’d like the two of you to be the first to know, we’re keeping the business.” Wanda reached for her son. He sidled toward her. “C’mon, Neil, get over here. Don’t be shy, son.”

He moved beside her.

Wanda brushed her hand along his shoulder and down the top few buttons of his shirt. Primping. “Neil came up with the brilliant idea to hire someone already in the publishing business to run it.” She petted his cheek.

Neil blushed.

“Dash recommended the woman to us,” Wanda went on. “She’s a New York editor who wants a quieter life and smaller responsibilities.” Wanda grabbed her son’s hand and squeezed. “She adores Dash, so he’ll continue to be part of the team.”

“What about Ingrid Lake?” Bailey asked. “Will she become a partner in the firm?”

“We’ll have to see.” Wanda glanced at Neil. “She’s a good girl. A little uptight.”

“A little?” Neil jibed.

Wanda
tsk
ed. “Ingrid needs some grooming.”

“Which mother has decided to do.” Neil rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry. She is not taking the place of your sister,” Wanda assured him. “No one can.”

“And you, Neil?” I asked. “What are your plans?” If Vines was closing and he couldn’t take a day job because of his mother’s illness, where would he work at night?

“Neil,” Wanda said, answering for him, “will be going back to school. If he wants to be a performer, he needs more training. There’s a wonderful stand-up comedy teacher in San Jose.”

Wow. Wanda was supporting her son’s dream to become a comedian? I said, “Doesn’t Neil need to tend to you?”

Neil eyed his mother. “She won’t let me. She’s hiring a day person.”

Wanda beamed. “My son shouldn’t be bound to me by a ball and chain. He should be encouraged to follow his soul. I did. His sister did.” She released his hand. “Well, girls, I must tell the mayor. She’ll want the full scoop.” Wanda steered Neil to the book club clique.

Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Close a door, open a window.”

I agreed. “Expect rainbows at the end of rainstorms,” I added, quoting something my mother used to say to me.

Aunt Vera sidled up to Bailey and me while brushing her hands free of remnants of cardboard boxes. “Bailey Bird, you have something you want to say.”

Bailey spun to face her. “Um, no I don’t, Vera.”

“Yes, you do.”

I eyed Bailey, who looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. If she opened her mouth, a bird would most certainly trill.

“What?” I poked her in the ribs.

“Ow!” Bailey backed up.

Lola split from the book club group and joined us. “What’s going on?”

Aunt Vera rubbed her amulet and peered at Bailey. “Your daughter has some news.”

“About that cat?” Lola frowned. “I told you it wasn’t going to work out.”

“Now, Mom, don’t start. It’s not about the cat. Tito’s—” Bailey pressed her lips together.

“Tito’s keeping the cat,” I finished.

“Yes,” Bailey replied, “and—” She sealed her lips again.

“And what? Out with it,” I ordered. “Aunt Vera is sensing whatever you’re giving off. Blab! Please don’t tell me you’re moving back to San Francisco. I couldn’t bear it.”

“No.” Bailey looked trapped. “It’s—”

Tito swaggered into the shop and stopped with his feet apart, hands on hips. He reminded me of a young Yul Brynner in
The Magnificent Seven
, surprisingly handsome and
manly. He strode to Bailey and pecked her on the cheek. “Well?” he asked her.

“Well, what?” Lola and I asked in chorus.

“Did you tell them,
mi amor
?” Tito asked.

“Tell us what?” Lola demanded.

Bailey blushed. “Um, Tito has asked me to marry him.”

I clasped her in a hug. Aunt Vera tweaked Bailey’s ear and said a quick blessing.

Lola gasped. “I didn’t even know you were dating.”

Bailey nodded enthusiastically. “We have been for three months.”

Lola sniffed. Her lower lip trembled. “I’m the last to know?”

“Mom!”

“Are you pregnant?”

Bailey yelped. “No!”

“Then why so fast? Why the rush to the altar?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I am truly, one hundred percent in love.” Bailey slung an arm around Tito’s back. Her eyes sparkled with outright adoration.

“What about the cat?” I asked.

“Tito’s going to take care of all its needs.” Bailey addressed her mother. “May we have your blessing? Please?”

Lola’s peevishness melted away. She grinned and opened welcoming arms. “Absolutely.”

Bailey and Tito crowded into them. Tito muttered, “Mom.”

Lola cracked, “Don’t push it!”

My cell phone jangled in my pocket.
Rhett
. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. I moved to the stockroom to take the call. “How is your mother?”

“Fine.”

“How about your father?”

“Relax.” Rhett’s voice was warm and husky. “Everyone is healthy.”

“Then why did your mother summon you?”

“Because she finally got through to my dad and convinced him to see me. She didn’t want too much time to pass in case he changed his mind.”

“Rhett, that’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He chuckled. “The old codger and I had a sit-down. He’s hard as nails, but he said he loves me, and he forgives me.”

“Do you forgive him?”

“I never begrudged him a thing.”

A train whistle blasted in the background.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Still in Napa.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Actually, I was going to ask when are you coming up here?”

“What?”

“My family wants to meet you. We’ve got a reservation for dinner at Intime tomorrow night at eight. Are you available?”

His family wanted to meet me? Gulp!

“Jenna?”

My heart filled with love. “How could I ever say no to you?”