Scene of the Brine (4 page)

5

W
hen Ralph came back, Amy had arrived for her shift and both she and Piper were busy with customers. He returned to his work without saying a word, and Piper's glance in Ralph's direction caught only a tight set to his jaw. If he was angry—which he must have been—he was holding it all in and thankfully not taking it out on her door.

Customers continued to admire the beautiful door and Ralph acknowledged their compliments but without pausing in his work, which most seemed ready to attribute to his admirable focus and professionalism. Around midday, though, business in the shop calmed and Ralph laid down his tools after Amy had gone into the back room.

“How would you feel about running over to see Sugar for a minute?” he asked Piper.

“You mean now? I'm not sure she'll be in the mood for company.”

“She wouldn't be for most people. But you know what happened, right?” Piper nodded, and Ralph said, “Sugar won't feel the need to hide it from you. Zach says she's pretty upset but maybe you can show her that the sensible people in her life won't care a whit. She'll need that.”

Piper thought for a moment, at first wondering why Ralph didn't go himself. But not having access to his inner thoughts or being inclined to pry, she nodded and reached back to untie her apron. “I'll see what I can do.” As she chucked the apron and pulled on her light cardigan, she asked, “How was Zach when you left him?”

“Better. When we left the deli he said he was going over to a friend's.”

Amy reappeared from the back holding a box of spices and Piper asked, “Mind taking over for a while?”

“No problem. Nate's stopping by soon, so he can pitch in if things get busy again. And if it gets super busy,” Amy added with a grin, “we'll just press Mr. Strawbridge into duty.”

Ralph smiled. “If it gets to that point, I'll just barricade the doorway. Problem solved.”

Amy laughed along with Piper, who grabbed her purse. “Call if you need me,” she said, then headed out the back to the alley where her hatchback was parked. Once in the car, she pulled out her cell phone to check Sugar's address. She debated a moment about calling first but decided not to risk being put off. Piper put the key in her ignition, not exactly sure how she was going to handle the visit but asked herself,
What would Aunt Judy do?
The answer she got was that Aunt Judy would take along something homemade and edible. Piper ran back inside and grabbed a jar of orange and lemon marmalade, which she knew Sugar particularly liked. It was a minuscule start, comfortwise, but Piper hoped for further inspiration as she drove.

. . .

S
ugar's house was a pretty two-story on a quiet road just outside Cloverdale that had been built, she'd once told Piper, around 1850. Its white siding and black shutters were in pristine condition and aged oak trees flanked each side, their budding leaves looking fresh and green, while white blooms of a string of pear trees could be seen along the back. Piper went up the three front steps under a short overhang and tapped the shiny brass knocker on the door twice, then waited. She spotted the curtain at one of the front windows twitching and in a moment heard the click of the lock turning.

“Piper.” A wan-looking Sugar, her blond hair hanging limply, peeked through a narrow crack. “I'm pretty rotten company today.”

“I didn't come to be entertained, Sugar. You had a rough time last night. I thought you could use a little cheering up.” She held out the jar of marmalade.

Sugar smiled weakly and opened the door wider to take the jar. “Thank you. Got anything for a battered ego?”

“I'd say more than your ego got trampled,” Piper said, stepping through the doorway as Sugar waved her in.

“Oh, Piper,” Sugar said, her face suddenly crumpling. Piper reached for her friend and hugged tightly, feeling the older woman tremble, then gradually calm. “I'm such a fool,” Sugar said. She pulled back and wiped her eyes before offering a wan smile. “Come on back,” she said with a toss of her head. “I can at least offer you coffee and cake. Leftover almond cake from last night. Lydia didn't want it.”

“Lydia is an idiot,” Piper said, following Sugar down the hall and past a tidy living room to an enormous kitchen that had been fully updated with gleaming stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

“With that I'd have to agree,” Sugar said, smiling more widely. “But catering her tea was going to be such a fantastic boost to my business, which, I hate to admit, is going through a bit of a slump. Word will get around now that I've been dropped. It wasn't for food-related reasons but I can't exactly go around explaining that, can I?” She sliced a piece of cake and poured a mug of coffee for Piper, who carried both to the huge center island.

“Sugar,” Piper said, slipping onto one of the stools, “this is the twenty-first century. Attitudes have changed.”

“For some, maybe. But definitely not Lydia.” She shook her head. “What hurts me most, though, is Jeremy. I was really starting to care for him.” Sugar sank onto a stool across from Piper, gulping back more tears. “I thought he felt the same. But he hasn't offered any support whatsoever. I've been dropped like a hot potato.” She managed a wry smile. “Ironic, since my twice-baked potatoes were just about his favorite thing.”

“Do you think his nonsupport is because of Lydia?”

“Maybe. I did see a subtle change in him after she and his sister, Mallory, moved in. Before that, Jeremy was this very smart, strong businessman with a tender side to him, qualities I happen to love. And when he said his mother and sister were moving in, I got the impression it was his idea and that he was stepping up to help family members who depended on him. Admirable, right? But later I caught hints that the move was more their idea than his. And I noticed Jeremy deferring to Lydia on decisions he should have been making himself.”

“It sounds like he's deferred to her as to who should or should not be in his life.”

Sugar nodded. “And that's hard to take, Piper. Jeremy was the first man I let into
my
life after all these years. I thought I was choosing so wisely. Look how that went!” She wiped at her eyes again. “I obviously don't have a lick of sense where men are concerned. And my business is probably shot to heck because of it. I might as well just pack up and move on. Start all over someplace else. Poor Zach, stuck with such a mess of a mother.”

Piper jumped in to bolster Sugar up as best she could, reminding her of the wonderful job she'd obviously done with Zach and assuring her that her business would not only survive but thrive because of the excellent reputation she'd earned. It didn't appear that any of what she said was truly sinking in.

Sugar had just dissolved into more tears when Piper heard the front door open. Sugar quickly wiped her face and blew her nose.

“Mom?” Zach called.

“In here, Zach.” Sugar jammed her tissue into a pocket, but she couldn't hide the ravages on her face.

“Mom, I—” Zach stopped at the kitchen doorway at sight of Piper. “Oh! Hi.”

“Piper and I were just enjoying some almond cake,” Sugar said, jumping up from her stool and putting on a wide smile, which Piper was sure didn't fool Zach for a moment. “Did you want some? I have lots.” When Zach shook his head, she asked, “A sandwich? I have—”

“Mom, I'm not hungry!” Zach cried, then immediately looked ashamed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to yell.” He turned to Piper and in a much milder tone said, “Thanks for coming to see my mom.”

Piper smiled. “We had a good talk.” She checked her watch. “But I'm afraid I've got to get back to the shop now and relieve Amy.”

“Take some cake to Amy,” Sugar said, quickly wrapping a generous piece in foil as Piper carried her mug and plate to the sink. She walked Piper to the front door. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I'll try not to be such miserable company next time.”

“Just go easier on yourself, okay?” Piper said, giving Sugar a final hug. “There's a lot of us who really care about you, you know.”

Sugar nodded, even smiled brightly, but Piper knew the false cheer would disappear once the door had closed.

. . .

P
iper drove back, feeling down, but her spirits lifted when she drew close to her shop and saw that her brand-new door had been fully installed. She could barely scramble out of her car fast enough.

“Is it all done?” she asked Ralph, who stood back, studying his handiwork.

He nodded, looking satisfied. “All done and ready to go.”

“Isn't it gorgeous?” Amy asked. She and Nate had come out to join a small crowd of admirers.

“I think you should have a grand opening celebration for this fantastic new door,” Nate said, grinning.

“It truly deserves it,” Piper said. “Will you provide the music?” she asked, only half joking. A celebration actually sounded very good to her after the sad hour she'd just spent with Sugar, which reminded her of the foil-wrapped almond cake and sent her back to her car. “Sugar sent this for you, Amy,” she said, handing it over.

“How is she?” Ralph asked.

Piper winced. “Not so great, but I'm hoping the worst is over. Zach is with her.”

“What's going on?” Emma Leahy asked, pushing through the crowd. “Well!” she said when she saw the object of interest. Piper's best customer, an enthusiastic gardener whose entire wardrobe seemed to consist of faded overalls and oversized shirts, took in Ralph's creation for several moments, then turned to the craftsman. “You've outdone yourself, Ralph!”

Ralph dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“We think there should be a grand unveiling,” Amy said.

“But it's never been veiled,” Ralph countered.

“You know what I mean,” Amy said, laughing. “Bring everyone here at one time to see it, now that it's done. What do you think, Piper?”

“I like that idea the more I think of it. How quickly can we put something together?”

Amy instantly turned “chef,” and Piper could fairly see food images flash through her head. “With a little help, we could have it ready by tomorrow night, which happens to be Nate's and my night off from A La Carte.”

“Wonderful!” Emma said. “I'll pitch in and also spread the word.”

“Ralph,” Piper said, “you'll be the guest of honor. Does tomorrow evening work for you?”

Ralph laughed. “Pretty much any evening would work for me.”

“Perfect!” Piper turned to Amy. “Let's get the ball rolling.”

6

P
iper gazed at her transformed shop, impressed with how well they'd put together their last-minute party. Amy had the brilliant idea of duplicating the carvings in Piper's new door with actual fruits and vegetables and had made a beautiful center display of cucumbers, pineapples, beans, and strawberries encircled by freshly washed leafy vines. She'd also cut up chunks of fruit to be dunked into a delicious cream cheese dip.

Aunt Judy contributed bite-size meatballs in a spicy sauce in an electric warming pot; Emma Leahy and Joan Tilley, following Amy's recipes, had made platters of yummy appetizers; and Piper had prepared trays of a variety of cheeses and crackers along with selections of pickles. Lots of pickles.

Piper had hesitated over approaching Sugar for something sweet but decided the distraction might be good for her. Her thought had proved right when Sugar immediately offered to whip up one of her delicious cakes—an offer Piper definitely couldn't refuse.

Notice of the party was spread by word of mouth, and people began arriving around five thirty. Gil Williams, who owned the new and used bookshop next door, was one of the first. He'd exchanged his regular brown, elbow-patched cardigan for a more festive Kelly green sweater and had smoothed down his unruly white hair.

“Quite impressive,” he said after a long, critical examination of Piper's new door. “Perhaps I should think about sprucing up my own place. What theme would you suggest?” he asked Ralph. “Works of Shakespeare or selections of classic mysteries?”

“Mysteries,” Amy jumped in to answer. “It would fit both you and your shop.”

Gil lifted a questioning eyebrow but Piper knew exactly what Amy meant. Gil had been extremely good at helping her puzzle out solutions to more than one too-close-for-comfort crime. Plus he'd managed to keep his own life a bit of a mystery, generally disappearing at the end of his workday with only an occasional hint as to how he filled the remaining hours.

“Come get something to eat, Gil,” Aunt Judy called, waving him over, and he genially obeyed, making room for new arrivals at the doorway. Uncle Frank had driven in from the farm and was handling the drinks. He ran through the choices for Gil as Aunt Judy piled meatballs onto a paper plate and pointed out other goodies.

Amy's longtime friends Megan and Erin arrived together, Erin explaining that Ben Schaeffer, her boyfriend as well as Megan's brother, would be late. They had brought pizza rolls and crab dip with crackers and Amy shifted trays on Piper's counters to make space.

Piper was a little disappointed when Zach walked in carrying a sheet cake his mother had made. The cake was gorgeous—chocolate letters spelling out congratulations to both Ralph and Piper atop swirling waves of creamy white frosting—but Piper had hoped Sugar would arrive along with it.

“Mom asked me to offer her regrets,” Zach said. “She just wasn't up to going out.”

“Please tell her we miss her,” Piper said. “You'll stay a while, though, won't you?”

Zach looked ready to say no but Amy, Megan, and Erin collectively pressed him to try their particular culinary treats and he found himself holding a paper plate that was being rapidly filled.

“Got a pickle for a hungry man?”

Piper had been facing Zach and hadn't noticed Will coming in. “There's plenty more than pickles,” she said with a smile. “I'm glad you could make it.”

“My fertilizer delivery arrived early, so I had time to clean up.”

“
Extremely
glad to hear it,” Piper said, grinning. “Manure can be—”

“Not
that
kind of fertilizer,” Will said, laughing. “The chemical type.” He reached for a roast beef and cheese wrap that Amy had sliced into finger-food size and downed it in two bites.

Before he could reach for another, Piper asked, “Mind starting with the appetizers? The crowd is really growing and I'm not sure we'll have enough for everybody. Timing this for the dinner hour might not have been the best idea.”

“No problem,” Will said agreeably, but as he headed for the crab dip, two of Aunt Judy's lady friends walked in with more food and Piper relaxed. She cleared more pickling equipment away to make room.

The party quickly moved into high gear. People arrived to marvel over Ralph's door, then circled through the shop to chatter about it as they picked up food and drink. Plates loaded, they gradually eased out to the sidewalk to make space for others, lingering there. Piper greeted Stan Yeager, the Cloverdale real estate agent who'd helped her find the premises for her shop.

“Quite a get-together you've got here,” Stan said.

Piper liked Stan, even when he jumped to cringeworthy conclusions about her, such as assuming she and Will were ready to tie the knot and buy a house together. “I'm amazed and delighted with the turnout,” she said, looking up at the lanky Realtor. Piper thought his eyes appeared a bit sunken and shadowed and hoped those possible signs of stress weren't business related. Sugar had mentioned that Stan was one of the few resisters of Jeremy Porter's buyout offers. Porter's mega-realty operation moving into the area couldn't help but affect Stan's small office.

“Never one to pass up a party,” Stan said with a grin that seemed slightly forced. He selected one of Piper's cheese-and-pickle-topped crackers and had just popped it in his mouth when Emma Leahy tugged at his arm.

“Stan! What can you tell me about the old Hopkins place going up for sale?”

Piper watched Stan struggle to answer without choking as the two edged away in the continuing flow of the crowd. She heard the strum of a guitar in her back room and lit up. Nate had jokingly agreed to entertain but Piper hadn't dared to hope he was serious. Apparently he was, as the door to the back opened and Nate's clear tenor voice rang out with a rendition of the eighties song “Celebration.”

To her amazement, most of the crowd, whose ages ranged from early twenties to way past sixty, quickly joined in. Nate carried it on for several verses, finally ending to claps and cheers. It was the perfect way to top off the party!

Nobody would let Nate stop there and he was besieged with requests, which he cheerfully responded to, gradually moving through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk. It was marvelous and Piper saw grins on every face within view.

Things suddenly quieted, though, as sirens sounded. Heads swiveled to watch flashing lights in the distance, but as the lights faded away, attention returned to the party. Only Aunt Judy's expression remained worried, and she made her way over to Piper.

“Where do you suppose that ambulance was heading?” When Piper shrugged helplessly, she added, “Old Mr. Winkler hasn't been too well lately. I hope he hasn't taken a sudden turn.”

“No, Judy,” Emma Leahy leaned over to say, then pointed to a middle-aged woman in a paisley dress. “Patsy Winkler is over there. She'd certainly have heard if it was her father.”

Aunt Judy nodded, only partly soothed. Piper knew her aunt's mind was running over a mental list of vulnerable Cloverdale residents. To distract her, since there was really nothing she could do, Piper asked, “How are your meatballs holding out? They've been pretty popular.”

“Oh! I meant to bring out more from your refrigerator. There's been quite a few new arrivals. I'll do a quick warmup in the microwave.” Aunt Judy scurried off and Piper hailed the next guests who'd made it into the shop, needing to raise her voice over the singing, as all thoughts of the sirens were forgotten.

Ben Schaeffer arrived and before locating Erin made a point to advise Piper that the noise level of her party might be a violation of a Cloverdale ordinance. Besides his insurance agency work, Ben took his volunteer auxiliary officer duties highly seriously, which had sometimes strained Piper's patience. That evening, though, Piper simply smiled and pointed out Amy's father, Sheriff Carlyle, who was gamely swaying to the music along with his daughter and her friends.

“I think we're good, Ben, but thanks. Chicken wrap?”

Ben helped himself without further comment and left to work his way toward Erin.

Piper waved at Will, who'd been caught in a far corner of the shop, and indicated the still-brimming trays of food, signaling that he should come get his fill. He nodded but as he began winding through the crowd, Piper caught a familiar voice. Scott Littleton was heading her way from the opposite direction. Will had been wonderfully patient about giving Piper time to sort out her feelings but a face-to-face meeting with her former fiancé in such close quarters might be asking too much. Piper slipped out from behind her counter to intercept Scott.

“Hey, there you are!” Scott had changed from his lawyer suit and tie to more casual wear and Piper recognized the plaid shirt she had given him when they were still a couple. Had he purposely chosen it? she wondered. Then she reminded herself it had become a favorite of Scott's ages ago and decided he'd probably long forgotten its original source.

“Quite a shindig this turned out to be!” Scott said, raising his voice above the din. “I never heard of a grand opening for a door—hey, a grand door-opening!” He laughed at his little joke. “But it certainly drew a crowd.”

“I'm not sure if it was interest in Ralph's door that brought everyone. For some it may have been interest in our food. But either way, it's turned out to be a lot of fun.”

“Speaking of food . . .” Scott began, and Piper glanced back to see Will standing near the sandwich trays, his back to them.

“Start with Amy's fantastic dips,” she advised Scott, firmly turning him to the opposite side of the shop. “Then work your way around.”

As Scott followed her suggestion, Piper headed over to Will, who by then had loaded his plate. As he turned at her shoulder touch, she said, “Let's step outside for a minute.”

“Fine with me.”

Piper grabbed a plastic cup of iced tea and led the way to a spot that was close enough to enjoy Nate's music but quiet enough to talk without shouting. Piper took a deep breath and felt her adrenaline level, which had momentarily spiked at Scott's arrival, level out.

“How long do you suppose this will go on?” Will asked. He bit into one of Piper's crisp dill pickles.

“Probably until the food runs out.” Piper grinned. “Maybe we shouldn't have put out quite so much?”

“If it gets to be a problem, I'll be happy to help it disappear.”

They listened as Nate finished his latest song, then heard the sound of metal tapping on glass—the universal signal for attention. As the crowd quieted, Megan Schaeffer's voice rang out.

“It's time to cut the cake,” she announced. “Piper, where are you?” she asked. “Want to come do the honors?”

“Go ahead, Megan. Or Aunt Judy is an expert cake cutter, if you'd rather not.” Piper called from her doorway. If Sugar Heywood had come, she would have asked her to cut it and reap the compliments she richly deserved for her culinary creation. Piper suddenly realized she hadn't seen Zach since shortly after he arrived. He must have slipped out early without her noticing.

Megan nodded. “Okay, we'll collectively cut it in a moment. But first I propose we all raise our glasses in a toast to Ralph Strawbridge and his absolutely beautiful hand-carved door!”

“Hear, hear!” several voices called out, and Piper, along with many others, raised her glass in tribute to Ralph. Although all the glasses were filled with iced tea or sodas, the enthusiasm reached champagne height.

“Speech!” someone called, and others echoed that, chanting and clapping in rhythm until Ralph laughingly gave in.

“Thank you all,” he said. “And thanks to all the wonderful ladies for this excellent spread.” After the cheers that followed had died down, he added, “But none of this would have happened without Piper Lamb, who commissioned the door in the first place, and who—”

A cell phone rang, causing Ralph to pause and dozens of heads to turn in its direction. Piper saw Sheriff Carlyle lift his phone to his ear. The crowd remained silent, watching as the sheriff's face turned grim. He said a few words, then pocketed the phone and rapidly made his way out of the shop without comment. All eyes followed as the sheriff jumped into his parked car, then sped off, his lights flashing.

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Judy quietly voiced what everyone was likely thinking. “Something must be very wrong.”