A Cherry Cola Christmas (2 page)

He nodded perfunctorily, flashing one of his best reelection smiles. “That's the nature of honeymoons, of course. They really don't prepare any of us for the real world we live in, do they? Speaking of which, I have some very bad news to share with you today.”

Maura Beth sat up straighter in her chair, looking alert and confident. She was ready for anything he had to throw at her these days. “I already know what you're going to say. It's about the stolen tips down at The Twinkle, isn't it?”

Councilman Sparks looked momentarily surprised, pulling back slightly. “Well, yes, that was a part of what I wanted to discuss with you. And I see you've been properly briefed.”

“My assistant, Renette Posey.”

Councilman Sparks cast his eyes at the ceiling for a moment or two. “Yes, that sweet little teenaged thing you've got working for you down there behind the front desk. Is she old enough to drive yet?”

Maura Beth refused to bristle. “She's a high-school graduate going on nineteen. But enough about Renette. Why don't you continue with your bad news? I know you're just bursting to tell me.”

He cleared his throat loudly and then put the cigar down in the nearby ashtray where the smoke continued to curl upward lazily. “Yes, well, I'll get to the stolen tips bid'ness later. But first I wanted to tell you that Spurs 'R' Us, the cowboy boot manufacturer that was going to locate in our new industrial park, has backed out of the deal at the last minute. Said they're looking into another location up near Nashville. Dillard Mills, their two-faced CEO, had the gall to tell me over the phone he thought their boots would sell better if people knew they were made in the country music capital of the world and not here in Cherico. What an asinine reason! Who'd care about something like that? Anyway, I don't have to tell you that that's a real blow to our economy. It would've meant hundreds of new jobs for us, and we really need them. Our sales tax is lagging way behind last year, too. The town's in a real slump that shows no signs of ending soon. If it keeps up, Cherico's not gonna have much of a Christmas this year. I guess you could say that Spurs 'R' Us has Scrooged us!”

Maura Beth nodded sympathetically but remained wary. She could not see where he was going with this where she was concerned. “I'm sorry to hear that. I know you were excited about them being the first industry to locate in your park—the park to end all industrial parks.”

“It's not
my
park. It belongs to everyone here in Cherico, including you. Hey, we were just about ready to do a presser to announce the construction date of the plant. Instead, it's gotten out around the state that we've been one-upped by Nashville. That's the big story now, and it can't help us with our future industrial prospects!” He paused, looking off to the side at the smoke-filled plane of light streaming through his window, as if he were searching for inspiration to continue. “And since you're so tight with Miz Periwinkle Lattimore, I suppose you already know her ex has closed down the Marina Bar and Grill out at the lake and left town. Another source of consistent tax revenue just sailing off into the sunset on us!”

“Yes, unfortunately I was aware of that,” she told him, nodding smartly. “Harlan Lattimore's moved back to his hometown of Jefferson, Texas, to start over fresh. It seems there's nothing much left for him here after Periwinkle turned down his second marriage proposal. These things happen.”

Councilman Sparks muttered something under his breath, lightly brushing his silver tie with the tips of his fingers, and continued. “Well, Harlan Lattimore leaving's not all that's happened. Miz Audra Neely is closing down that fancy antique shop of hers on Commerce Street after Christmas, too. And Cherico Ace Hardware is going out of bid'ness. We can't afford too many more empty storefronts downtown. Looks awful when we show these company execs around. Gives the unmistakable impression we're dying on the vine—and if we don't turn this around soon, that's exactly what's gonna happen to us!”

“Oh, I didn't know that about Audra and the hardware store. But Audra did have a lot of high-end items for a small town like Cherico. I know they were all out of my price range. Frankly, I'm surprised she was able to stay in business this long.”

“That was why we needed those Spurs 'R' Us jobs. Woudda brought in folks to live here who could've afforded nicer things. Things are looking pretty bleak around here, Miz Mayhew.”

“McShay.”

“Of course. You're a respectable married woman now. To that young shop teacher, right?”

Maura Beth looked thoroughly exasperated, making no effort to contain her anger. “Please stop doing that, Councilman. You know very well that my husband, Jeremy, teaches English here at the high school. You always do that to needle me, and I'm sick and tired of it.”

Councilman Sparks took another puff of his cigar, indulged one of his wicked grins, and chuckled. “You're one feisty librarian. I've always given you that much.”

Maura Beth decided it was time to cut to the chase. “Well, I appreciate you keeping me in the loop about all this, but what do you think I can possibly do about it? I'm no elected official or detective. Why am I really here?”

He shrugged his shoulders as his mouth went all crooked—not a good look for such an extraordinarily handsome man. “Actually, Lon Dreyfus asked me to speak to you. He wants to address your book club about the stolen tips thing. He's thinking that you and your cronies could keep an eye out around town so this thing won't get outta hand. Of course, the truth is, he loves to hear himself talk. So, he's addressing all the civic groups, and you've got quite a collection of members there. All ages and interests . . . Connie and Douglas McShay, Miss Voncille Nettles—er, Linwood she is now—and her genealogy following; Justin and Becca Brachle; that black pastry chef and his mother—well, I don't have to tell you who all comes to your meetings, do I? Maybe someone'll see something to help the sheriff and the police department out. More pairs of eyes on the street, you know.”

Maura Beth sank back in her sumptuous leather visitor's chair and peered smugly at her longtime adversary. Having the upper hand was sweet, indeed! “So, let me get this straight, Councilman. After all the grief you've given me, the library, and The Cherry Cola Book Club, you actually want our help now?”

He didn't even blink. “That's the gist of it. I mean, you could call one of your club meetings and potlucks and enlist their help. The way I see it, it'd clearly be a civic duty thing. Besides, as I said, it's not my idea, it's the sheriff 's. He and I—well, we don't always see eye to eye, but I pretty much agree with him on this one. I mean, what harm could it do?”

Maura Beth's laugh was genuine and prolonged. “And not so long ago, the book club was the proverbial thorn in your side.”

“True enough.” He leaned in farther, looking almost predatory and ready to pounce on her with his hands palms down and fingers spread wide on the desk. “But you've proven you can hold your own with us good ole boys running things. You got exactly what you wanted out of your newfound political savvy—that big new library going up out at the lake. You and I, we share a few secrets now, don't we? So, I view you as a pretty valuable asset to Cherico.”

“To your political reign here in Cherico, you mean.”

“Why should I deny it? That's what I'm all about, and you know it as well as I do. So, are you and the club gonna help out or not?”

Maura Beth took her time. An uneasy feeling gripped her briefly. She had been prepared for another of the councilman's attacks, but cooperating with him on just about any level was awkward and rare territory. Still, she didn't see how she could turn Sheriff Dreyfus down. Unlike with Councilman Sparks, she'd never had an unpleasant experience with him over the years. “Yes, of course, the club will help. I imagine everyone's concerned about it. They all have a stake in our little community.”

“Ah! Just what I thought you'd say!”

“You almost always get your way, don't you?”

He pulled back somewhat, drumming his fingers rapidly on the highly polished wood to some hidden rhythm. “Almost always. You're one of my few exceptions. And now—well, you're married and all that goes with that.”

Maura Beth's expression was steely. He was no longer able to get to her where she lived. “It was never going to happen, Councilman. Even if you'd burned down the library, I was never going to come work for you as your secretary. And I use the term loosely.”

His face went all dreamy and slightly creepy at the same time. “Ah, yes, what could have been!”

“I'll get back to you as soon as I can about when we can work the sheriff in,” she told him, ignoring his theatrics. “And I'm sure you're right—everyone who belongs to The Cherry Cola Book Club is very involved in the welfare of our little town. Someone may very well spot something—or overhear something that will help catch the culprit. Then maybe you can find another cowboy boot company to kick up its heels in your industrial park.”

“Yee-ha, little lady!” Councilman Sparks shouted, making a lassoing gesture while flashing his legendary white teeth.

Maura Beth gave him one of her weakest smiles as she said good-bye and walked away. Some things and some people never changed.

 

It was only when Maura Beth and Jeremy were sitting across from each other at their kitchen table that evening having dinner that she felt the full impact of her latest session with Councilman Sparks. “What this boils down to is, the head honcho of Cherico has now put me in the same category as his City Hall lackeys—‘Chunky' Badham and ‘Gopher' Joe Martin. I'm supposed to do his bidding without giving him an argument like I used to do.”

Jeremy swallowed a forkful of the chicken spaghetti she had made for them and took a moment. “Well, at least this time Councilman Sparks is trying to do some good, and the sheriff is only doing his job. I mean, the sooner whoever did this is caught, the better.”

Maura Beth moved her food around her plate, looking thoroughly disinterested. “I know. It's just the way he manages to turn every conversation with me into a dirty joke. I always come away feeling like he's made another pass at me and that I need to take a shower.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes and sat bolt upright, looking very territorial. “Maybe I need to go over there and set him straight, then.”

“That would not be a good idea, sweetie,” she said. “But I appreciate you wanting to be my knight in shining armor. Just trust me on this one—I can handle the councilman by myself.”

“Just promise me you won't let things get out of hand with him.”

She reached across and gave him her most reassuring smile, gently patting his hand. “I promise.”

Then, for not the first time, she sat back with the pride of first-home ownership on her face and surveyed the bright yellow kitchen inside the Painter Street cottage they had bought from Miss Voncille Nettles—now Mrs. Locke Linwood. What a generous wedding present from her parents—William and Cara Lynn Mayhew—the down payment had been! And then Miss Voncille had used their honeymoon period to move what possessions she was keeping into the Perry Street house she now shared with her new husband—Locke Linwood. But some of Miss Voncille's personality still lingered by mutual agreement—a couple of her iconic potted palms she had lovingly maintained over the decades in honor of her MIA fiancé, Frank Gibbons; the big, round breakfast nook table where they were having dinner at the moment; and a comfortable, upholstered chair or two in the living room and master bedroom. At any rate, everything was where it was supposed to be for the newlyweds upon their return from Key West, making for a seamless transition into their new home.

“Everything that's been happening to Cherico reminds me of that old gospel song,” Maura Beth said, emerging from her reverie about their little cottage. “You know, the one about Joshua fittin' the Battle of Jericho? Maybe that sounds a little outside the box right now, but it seems to fit.”

Jeremy nodded while hitching up one side of his mouth in recognition. “Never sang it myself, but I know the tune.”

“Yeah, well, I was wondering if this is the beginning of the end for our little town with all these stores closing. Am I building a brand-new library just as our walls come tumblin' down, so to speak? Councilman Sparks paints such a dismal picture, and he's usually pretty cocky about things.”

Jeremy shook off the suggestion vigorously, wagging a finger. “Nah, let it all play out, sweetheart. You and I—we'll stay the course here as we planned. And Cherico'll be the better for it—you'll see.”

2

Dreaded Birthdays and Hot Tips

M
aybe it was just her overactive imagination, but Maura Beth thought Emma Frost had aged by leaps and bounds over the past few weeks. Her pale, plump face—never what anyone would call pretty—seemed to have acquired folds and creases that were not there before. Yet there remained a certain honesty and determination in the woman's plainness that endeared her to everyone who walked into the outdated, claustrophobic Cherico Library and asked for her help at the front desk. Indeed, no one had ever even thought about registering a complaint.

Maura Beth's goal on her second day back at work was to try as best she could to lighten Emma's load, and she believed she was well on her way to doing that as the two women sat across from each other in her office just before the library was set to open up at nine o'clock. “So, who's looking after your Leonard when you come to work?” Maura Beth was asking.

“Cissy—that's my daughter that's not married yet, ya know—well, she comes over to help me out. She's at my house right now prob'ly watchin' TV with him. We just gotta keep an eye on Leonard, since he just cain't be trusted to know what's best for him. We learned that lesson the hard way first time we found him wanderin' around out on the sidewalk. He just slipped out on us when we weren't lookin', and when we asked him what he thought he was doin', all he'd tell us was, ‘I'm just out for a little walk like I used to do before y'all started frettin' over me so. A man needs some fresh air, ya know!' Then he stormed off to his room, mad as an old banty rooster, and slammed the door so hard, there come a zigzag crack in the wall and one a' the pictures of my mother in the hallway fell down with a racket like you've never heard. It scared me near half to death!”

Maura Beth was a bit overwhelmed by Emma's ramblings but managed to maintain her smile. “When will you know something for sure from the doctors?”

Emma turned away, looking pitifully distraught. “Any day now, they told us. I just have this feelin' he's got the Alltimer's. They kinda hinted at it here and there, but they couldn't say for sure 'til they'd checked on a few more things.”

Maura Beth let the malapropism pass without so much as a blink. This was no time to tidy up the English language and cause embarrassment. Instead, she concentrated on sounding as soothing as she could. “Maybe it won't turn out that way, though. At any rate, I want you to know that I'll do everything I can to help you out if it comes to that. We'll work out special hours for you so you can keep your job. With the money my Cudd'n M'Dear gave us, I can afford to hire extra clerks to spread the hours around a bit more. I'm going to be interviewing for that very soon.”

Emma appeared greatly relieved. “Thank you, Miz Maura Beth. The raise you gave me has already helped us a lot. I cain't keep askin' my Cissy to give up her spare time and such—she's found her a nice young man she's interested in and all and they've been goin' out, so we may have to hire us a sitter for Leonard when neither of us can work it out.”

“I understand. But the days of the library and its employees getting the short end of the stick are over,” Maura Beth told her, drawing herself up proudly. “You've done your part to help out for decades now, so I'll see you're taken care of as long as you want to work here. Meanwhile, I just wanted to say again what a great job you and Renette did looking after things while I was on my honeymoon. I knew I didn't have to worry about a thing.”

Emma waved her off quickly. “Oh, it was mostly Renette, ya know. She's the one that really knows what all you want done. I've always just taken orders—first from Miz Annie Scott, and now from you and Renette.” There was an awkward silence during which Emma's face dropped noticeably. “But . . . would you mind if I leaned on your shoulder just a tad bit more?”

“Of course not. What else did you want to tell me?”

Emma took her time, her eyes shifting from side to side, but eventually got the words out. “It's just that it's been real hard on us—seein' Leonard kinda disappear on us bit by bit. I don't mean the time or two he got out of our sight and we had to track him down out in the backyard or sittin' on the front stoop. I mean what's goin' on in his head. Sometimes, he's just not there anymore. He's someplace else, and I cain't seem to pull him back.”

“I'm sure that's difficult for you, Emma,” Maura Beth said, leaning in to pat her on the hand several times. “But once the doctors tell you what's going on for certain, you'll be able to deal with it all better. These days, they have medications that help with all kinds of conditions.”

“I hope so. But . . . there was somethin' else.”

“Go on, dear. I'm here for you.”

Emma's sigh was pronounced as she folded her hands in her lap, looking lost and forlorn. “The strangest thing is the way Leonard carries on about my birthday. Cain't even remember when he started up, but he sings ‘Happy Birthday' to me at the drop of a hat. I mean, I can be comin' outta the shower drippin' wet in my birthday suit, and there he is ready with another chorus.”

Maura Beth cocked her head, struggling mightily to suppress a smile. “Things could be a whole lot worse, I guess. He could be snapping your picture. Is your birthday coming up soon? I always get yours confused with Renette's.”

“Still six weeks or more away. I'm not too thrilled about it since it happens I'll be turnin' sixty-five. Makes me feel real old, and I know I look every year of it. Now don't lie to me and say I don't. I know better. But Leonard, he forgets practically everything else these days, but he remembers my sixty-fifth birthday of all things. And every time he finishes singin' to me, he winks and says, ‘Gonna have us a great little party, aren't we? Just you wait'n see!' ”

Emma paused, looking more confused than anything else. “Miz Maura Beth, I'm here to tell you there was years he'd forget all about my birthday until the last minute and then he'd have to run out and buy somethin' real quick off the rack that never fit me or was some god-awful color or print no respectable woman'd ever wear. Of course, I'd smile like it was just what I wanted and all and then give it to the Salvation Army when he wudd'n lookin'. Now I know this sounds kinda ungrateful of me, but I hope when the doctors tell us what's wrong with him, they'll have some a' those pills you were talkin' about that'll make him stop singin' to me. I've been Happy Birthday'ed near 'bout to death!”

In spite of everything, the two women couldn't help laughing, exchanging reassuring glances. “Well, how is he when it comes to your anniversary?” Maura Beth said.

“Now that, he always forgets, and it's been that way from when we was first married. Some men just cain't seem to get that date through their heads!”

Maura Beth looked particularly thoughtful and sank back in her chair. The remnant emotions of her honeymoon briefly flooded her brain. She hoped they would never stop visiting her. “It's too soon for me to know how my Jeremy will be about handling such things as birthdays and anniversaries. But I have to tell you—so far, he's been pretty romantic about everything.”

Emma made a dismissive noise under her breath and threw up her hands. “Leonard, he never was. That's why you'd think I'd really take to the way he's runnin' this birthday thing into the ground. But the truth is, I'd rather have him like he used to be—warts 'n' all—than have whatever craziness is goin' on in his brain.”

“I know this is a trial for you, Emma, but try not to get too down in the dumps about it.”

Emma glanced at her watch, sucked in air, and quickly rose from her chair. “I'll do my best, Miz Maura Beth. Meantime, that front desk is callin' my name. I do take my job seriously, ya know.”

Maura Beth quickly rose and gestured toward the door. “I do—and that's why I'll see to it that you and your family are taken care of no matter what.”

 

Maura Beth and Jeremy had just finished their dinner of trout amandine, garlic new potatoes, and fresh roasted asparagus at The Twinkle and had lingered after closing to catch up with Periwinkle Lattimore and her pastry chef and good friend—perhaps even significant other now—Mr. Parker Place. The four of them were sitting beneath one of the signature metallic star mobiles, lamenting the general state of affairs in Cherico, but particularly the mystery of Lalie Bevins's missing tips.

“Can you tell us everything Lalie remembers about that particular day?” Maura Beth was asking after a sip of the Chardonnay she'd held on to after the table had been cleared and Lalie herself had headed home. “Who else was working that afternoon?”

“Ruby Varnell, my other waitress, wasn't in for lunch service because she was under the weather, and Charlie Marks, my sous chef, doesn't come in 'til the dinner service. I always handle things myself before then unless we've been rented out for a party. Anyway, I'd trust both Ruby and Charlie with my life savings. They're hardworking, salt-of-the-earth people just like Lalie and her son, Barry.”

“Who was Lalie serving?”

“The two customers were my lawyer, Curtis Trickett, and Audra Neely. But they weren't sitting together. Curtis came in around one o'clock, and he was entertaining about five of his big-time clients all at once. We had to put a coupla tables together for him, and he ran up quite a bill with the bottles of wine and the drinks and everything else they ordered. Guess it was one a' those ‘thank you for the business' things. And then Audra Neely and her assistant came in late, too, from her antique shop. Those two ladies are both hooked on my tomato aspic, just like Connie McShay,” Periwinkle explained. “But Lalie said this time they ordered big lunches and cocktails, and even a couple of aspics to go. Both Curtis and Audra have charge accounts with us, which we bill monthly, but they also prefer to pay as they go with their tips. Lalie said Curtis flashed a Benjamin Franklin at her as she was walking away with some of the dishes, and she also saw Audra put down a twenty. They're both really big tippers—I can vouch for that myself.”

“Wow! That sure is a lot of money for any waitress to lose!” Maura Beth declared.

“Tell me about it,” Periwinkle continued. “Anyway, at that point there wudd'n anybody else in the dining room since it was nearly two o'clock by then. Lalie went into the kitchen with some of the dessert dishes, and when she returned a little bit later to collect the tips, the money was gone. Best we can figure out, somebody must've just walked in and taken it. Pretty all-fired brazen—even risky, if you ask me. Lalie could've returned at any time and caught 'em red-handed. Believe you me, if I'd seen who did it, I would've pressed charges right then and there. That's a rotten thing to do—stealing money from a hardworking waitress on her feet all day. The very idea just makes my blood boil!”

Mr. Place nudged her gently. “Tell 'em about the theory you had and the detective work you did.”

Periwinkle frowned and shook her head. “Ya think?”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, it's those two high-school hooligans Lalie's son, Barry, hangs out with all the time. Scott and—I think they call the other one Crispy 'cause he likes bacon so much. I mean, they phoned in that fake delivery order a while back and then tailgated Barry in our delivery van with their high beams on when he got out there in the boonies with all that food nobody ordered. Had us all scared half to death. So I told Lalie she needed to question Barry about those two and see if he could get 'em to fess up. But she said they swore they didn't do it and hadn't been anywhere near The Twinkle in a long time. She even called up their mothers about it, and they said those boys were still grounded from the dirty trick they played on Barry. So it seemed like a dead end. But Barry says he'll bet anything those boys found a way to sneak in here and take that money, no matter what their mothers say.”

“So he thinks their mothers are covering for them, then,” Maura Beth said, sounding decidedly judgmental.

Mr. Place spoke up with great authority. “We shared everything with the police and the sheriff, too, and I know they looked into it. But until anyone can prove anything different, I guess we have to believe those boys are innocent. I know for a fact that Barry's a good kid. He does a bang-up job as our delivery guy all over town. That's why I've been telling Peri we just might have to install one of those security cameras for the future. Hey, some of the other businesses swear by 'em, so maybe we better get with the program.”

Periwinkle was running her fingers nervously through her dyed-blond hair, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Cherico never used to have problems like this. You'd think we were growing like mad and all sorts of new people were moving in that you didn't know a hill a' beans about. But the sad truth is, we're losin' population, and too many businesses have closed up lately. Harlan's closed down the Marina Bar and Grill and left, of course, and I can't say I'm sorry with all I went through with him trying to get back together with me. It's just that some people never really thought they needed a security camera before now. Everybody trusted everybody else to do the right thing. This was an honest, churchgoing community. And now this has happened to change things for the worse. If it's the beginning of a trend, it'll boggle my mind.”

“Peri made things right for Lalie, though,” Mr. Place added, casting an affectionate glance her way. “She made up the tips for her out of petty cash.”

Maura Beth hoisted her wineglass without even thinking about it. “Good for you. But I would have expected nothing less.”