Manic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 6) (6 page)

Kara’s face fell a little.

“Well, I wish someone had,” she said, opening the door so I could come in, now that the fact-checking session was through. “I’m sure he deserved much worse than he got.”

Hoping to change the subject, I held out the aluminum-wrapped round I was holding in my hands. Her eyes grew wide when she saw it.

She glanced around suspiciously behind me, up and down the street, acting as if we were in the middle of a drug transaction.

Then she closed the door behind me.

“You’ve
really
got to stop bringing me these,” she said, taking the round out of my hand. “Mark my words, if you keep doing what you’re doing, your best friend isn’t going to fit through the doorjambs of her own house. And then Moira Stewart will really have something to gossip about.”

Kara led me through the living room, which was covered with an assortment of small plastic toys, and into the kitchen. While she grabbed a couple of plates from one of the cupboards and cut up two large slices of the pie, I greeted the cute-as-a-button babe sitting pretty in her high chair at the kitchen table.

“Oh, jeez, Cin. You even brought me that Orange Creamsicle flavored one,” Kara continued. “Don’t you know I can’t control myself around these? This pie alone is going to add five more pounds!”

“‘Pish-posh,’ as Warren would say,” I said as Kara pushed a plate in my direction. “You’re looking great, Kara. And you know it. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you so happy before.”  

I wasn’t lying either. She’d put on a few pounds during the pregnancy, but it only served to make her more beautiful somehow. Kara had a glow about her these days. Something inside her was shining real bright, and it was hard not to notice. Even when she spent most of her day walking around in sweats with baby stains on them, she was just as beautiful as her baby girl: Laila Mae Billings.

Though just a few months old, Laila was a real beauty. She already had a full head of frizzy brown hair and big blue eyes that sparkled just like her mama’s.

Kara smiled slightly, and looked over at her daughter.

“Well, it hasn’t all been roses, Cin,” she said. “Lord knows what I wouldn’t give for two hours of uninterrupted sleep and a night out on the town, wearing something else other than mommy clothes. But you’re right – I’m liking all this more than I thought I would.”

“I can see why,” I said.

Laila gurgled slightly, looking at us inquisitively with those big, bright eyes of hers. I smiled as she wrapped one of her tiny hands around my finger. She giggled.

I’d never had too many children in my life. I was an only child and all my cousins were older than me. Most of my friends from college had stayed in the rat race of public relations or advertising, and had yet to settle down. So Kara’s beautiful baby girl, Laila, was the first baby that I’d ever had the opportunity to see on a regular basis.

And I found myself completely smitten with her – something that for some reason, took me by surprise.

I wasn’t sure if all babies had it, but there was something real special about Laila. I knew it from the day she was born, when John, Daniel and I had stayed up all night at the hospital during Kara’s labor. When I saw Kara holding her, finally, in her arms, I swear… there was a light brighter than the sun shining around them.

While Laila did some more giggling, Kara dug into the pie, shoving a large heap of it into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she chewed, an expression of pure bliss on her face.

“My goodness, Cin. You’ve outdone yourself with this one,” she said, shaking her head. “No wonder they’re lining up outside your shop like hungry zombies. This is
ridiculous
.” 

I smiled, touched by the compliment.

“Best not joke about hungry zombies,” I said. “I’ve been having nightmares about them rioting in my pie shop.”

Kara laughed, breaking off another large piece and inhaling it.

“You know, today we ran out of pie at 1 p.m.,” I said, nibbling at the slice on my plate – the oranges were exceptionally sweet today. “If it keeps up at this pace, we’ll be closing before noon tomorrow.”

“Seems to me you need to get some more employees and maybe expand the shop,” Kara said, finishing off the last of her piece.

She reached out and cut herself another slice.

“You think?” I said.

She nodded.

“That, and maybe a second location somewhere else.”

I raised my eyebrows.  

“Aw, c’mon,” she said. “Don’t tell me that thought hasn’t crossed your mind.”

It had, in a distant, abstract kind of way. Like any bakery owner or restaurateur would, I had dreamed of my establishment becoming so popular, that something like that would be necessary. But I guess I had never believed I’d actually reach that point in real life.

I shrugged.

“To be honest, I’m just trying to survive one day at a time right now,” I said.  

“Well, you should do some thinking about it, hon. You know, if you opened up a location in Portland, I bet you would
kill
it. All those indie hipsters over there would go nuts for your pies.”

I shrugged again.

“It might be kind of risky,” I said. “Plenty of places fail when they try to expand.”

“You should strike while the iron’s hot. Go big or go home. Start thinking bigger for yourself, Cin.”

I furrowed my brow.

“You don’t think I think big enough for myself?” I said.

She looked up from her empty plate and held up her hands.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I just think that this right here, this pie you make? It’s a freakin’ work of art. You have a gift, Cin. Why wouldn’t you try and get this out to as many people as you could?”

She got up from her chair and started making up a fresh pot of coffee at the kitchen counter.

“I’m just saying,” she continued. “If I was in your shoes and didn’t have any familial obligations, and I had a talent like yours, there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do to get out there and make it as big as possible.”

She sighed.

I wondered if Kara’s encouragements weren’t a reflection of her feelings about her own business. Since having Laila, Kara had hired a couple more employees at her ornament shop to cover for her during maternity leave. I knew that being the smart, dedicated business woman that she was, it was probably a little difficult for her to relinquish control of her shop like that, even if it was just for a few months. 

“That’s what I think anyway, Cin. But maybe I’ve just been watching too much Shark Tank,” she said, looking back at me and smiling. “Laila’s a big fan of that show. She absolutely
loves
Robert, but I tell you, she’s not too keen on Mr. Wonderful. The other night, she threw that stuffed elephant you gave her at the TV when he came on.”

I laughed, looking back at Laila.

Kara might have had to sacrifice some parts of her business these days to be a mother.

But from where I sat, Laila was every bit worth it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up over coffee, with Laila letting out occasional fits of shrieking until Kara finally rocked her to sleep. .

By the time I had to get going to the baseball game, Kara had burnt herself out on talk and coffee and pie, and had fallen asleep in the living room’s rocking chair.

And there wasn’t but a small sliver of Orange Creamsicle Pie left in the tray.

Chapter 12

“Ball one!”

It was the bottom of the fifth and the Pohly County Sheriff’s Department Lawmen were up by two against the Christmas River Police Department Wildcats in the annual fundraiser showdown.  

Much of that lead had to do with the Lawmen’s pitcher, who had caught two impossible-to-catch fly balls and a low grounder to keep the Wildcats from tying the game.

Though how Daniel Brightman was able to pitch so well on just a few hours of sleep was a mystery to me. All I had to do was sit in the bleachers and cheer when the Sheriff’s Department scored, and I was practically falling asleep doing that.

Still, despite my fatigue, I was enjoying myself. It was hard not to on such a lovely evening. Meadow Diamond Park was situated right alongside the rushing Christmas River. It was bordered with aspens and cottonwoods that kept the field cool, even on hot days like today. Muted orange sunlight filtered through the leaves rustling in the wind, and I felt calm and peaceful sitting there, watching the boys of summer play.

Plus, having Huckleberry and Chadwick sitting at my feet, and having good old Warren sitting beside me eating from a bag of roasted peanuts was just icing on the cake.

“Aw, c’mon, you call that a ball, Harold? You must be starting to lose your sight, my friend.
No way
was that a ball,” Warren grumbled.

Harold turned around and gave Warren a sour face before returning his focus to the game. Harold, who was The Pine Needle Tavern’s bartender, had been recruited to umpire the annual Christmas River Law Enforcement Ballgame Fundraiser because many, many years ago, he had once played shortstop for Portland’s minor league baseball team. Though it had become quickly apparent an inning into the charity game that Harold’s supposed skills as a player didn’t exactly translate to being a good ump.  

“Ball Two!” Harold shouted as Daniel let fly another perfect strike.

Warren jumped to his feet and looked like one of those major league managers about to blow his top and get himself thrown out of the game.

“What a bunch of hogwas…” Warren started saying, but stopped himself suddenly as something in the parking lot caught his attention.

I followed his gaze and saw that Aileen had just pulled up in the used flatbed truck Warren had bought her back in January after she’d decided to leave Scotland and move to Christmas River with him.

Warren sank back down onto the bleacher like a busted Jack-in-the-Box.

I leaned back, smiling to myself.

“And what’s so funny?” he said, noticing.

I shrugged.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Just something about the way you sank back down in your seat when you saw Aileen pull up. Trying to show her that you’re on your best behavior. Don’t you think she already knows who she ran away with by now?”

Warren tossed a couple of peanut shells in my direction.

“Pish-posh, Cinny Bee,” he said. “I’m the most well-behaved man this side of the Christmas River.”

“I guess that’s relative to who’s standing on the opposite bank.”

Daniel threw a ball that looked more like ball three, but thanks to Harold’s poor judgement, was declared a strike. That strike was quickly followed with another, bringing the count to 2 and 2.

“Anyway, Aileen knows exactly who she married, in case you’re wondering,” Warren said, watching her cross the parking lot. “She doesn’t mind if I get a little vocal at a baseball game.”

To some, Warren and Aileen’s relationship may have seemed like a whirlwind romance. They’d gotten eloped back in February out in Las Vegas after having known each other for only seven months. In fact, their decision to get married had been so sudden, we still hadn’t had a proper reception for the two of them. But despite the quickness of it all, they seemed like a perfect fit for each other. In addition to being the most knowledgeable beer brewer Warren had ever met, Aileen was a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Especially when it came to Warren himself – something I knew the old man pretended to be exasperated by, but something I also knew he secretly liked. He liked a woman who was feisty, and in that department, I got the feeling Aileen could give him all he could handle.

But Aileen was also down-to-earth, caring and loving. And when she looked at Warren, I could tell she was just as smitten with him as he was with her. She took good care of him too. She’d limited his beer intake – something he complained about to no end, but something that was good for his health nonetheless. She also had him exercising regularly and on a diet that was heavy on kale and spinach. Warren often accused her of conspiring to turn him into a rabbit. Aileen would just laugh in her deep Scottish brogue and tell him she’d always wanted a pet bunny.

The two of them loved each other deeply.

“Ball three!”

Mark Bellingham, the Christmas River police officer at bat, grinned brightly, knowing he was only one ball away from an easy walk down to first.

“Dammit, Harold,” I mumbled, mostly to myself.

The man had to be going blind to make that call.

Daniel ran up and muttered something to Deputy Owen McHale, who was acting as the Lawmen’s catcher, before heading back to the mound.

Then Daniel readjusted his cap, wiping away sweat from his matted hair. He stared straight ahead with a laser look of concentration that could have clear-cut a forest. He nodded at Owen, and then a second later, he let a fast and low ball fly at the batter.

It was too tempting for Bellingham. The young man fell for it hook, line and sinker, swinging hard, confident that it was headed for beyond the fence.

He hit nothing but air.

“You’re out!” Harold shouted.

I clapped wildly and started whistling. Daniel looked across at the crowd, finding me. He coolly tipped his cap, as if he’d orchestrated the entire sequence for maximum drama. The teams traded out positions, with Norma Welles, the Pohly County Sheriff’s Office dispatcher, first up at bat.

“I can’t say I know much about baseball,” Aileen said, coming over to our side of the bleachers. “But it seems to me that your husband’s mighty good at it.”

I smiled, and stood up to greet her. She hugged me back with a big, welcoming, motherly hug that couldn’t help but make a person feel good.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, noticing she hadn’t come alone.

“Me as well. And I’m sorry to be late,” she said. “I was brewing some Pale Ale, and it took longer than expected, as those things tend to.”

I glanced behind Aileen and smiled my warmest, friendliest smile at the tall, awkward teen standing there.

“Hi there, Ian.”

The youth shifted nervously from one foot to another, meeting my stare for half a second before breaking it and looking away.