Menace in Christmas River (Christmas River 8) (10 page)

The woman cleared her throat.

“I’m Samantha Garner, by the way. I’m a homemaker from Tacoma, Washington.”  

I pulled my eyes away from the stunning art piece. Standing there, taking ownership of the work, was an unassuming woman with large, deep-set eyes. Her dark hair was thrown up in a sloppy, makeshift pony tail, and while I was no fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, the woman was dressed messily too, clad in an oversized olive green barn coat over an ill-fitting faded white t-shirt and a pair of light-colored jeans. She also wore a pair of tennis shoes that were faded and cracked and had clearly seen better days.

She stood in stark contrast to the majority of the contestants, who were dressed in iron-pressed chef’s jackets.

But as it was, this wasn’t
Project Runway
. It was the Chocolate Championship Showdown. The woman could have been dressed in her pajamas, and her creation would still have been hands-down the most beautiful, well-crafted, heartfelt chocolate sculpture in the auditorium.  

“How long did this take you to make?” I said, my eyes going back to the piece, which seemed to be more intricate and detailed with every look.

“I started on the concept right after Halloween,” she said. “It took three attempts and a fortune in chocolate, but I think I finally got it to where I want it.”

She smiled.

“Somehow I managed to find the time in between choir practice and soccer practice and PTA meetings. You see, I’m a mother of three young children, and they take up most of my time. But most nights, after putting them to bed, I’d go into the kitchen and work on this.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“It’s from
The Princess Bride
, isn’t it?” I asked.  

Her face, which had been pale and washed-out before, beamed brightly.

“You can tell?” she said, her voice trembling with giddiness.

I nodded.

Growing up,
The Princess Bride
had been one of my very favorite movies. And it was clear to me that her piece replicated the film’s final scene.

“I call it ‘
The Princess and Westley
,’” she said. “For me, there’s nothing that says great love or Valentine’s Day more than their love story.”

She glanced at her creation.

“But, uh, if it’s based on the movie, then how come Princess Buttercup is in tears here?” I asked.

In my recollection, Westley and Buttercup ended up riding off into the sunset together, escaping the evil Prince Humperdinck.

She swallowed hard, suddenly looking slightly nervous.

“Well… it’s, uh, it’s just my own interpretation of the story,” she said. “But I think there’s always something a little sad in feeling something so deep for somebody. I wanted Princess Buttercup to convey that.”

She swallowed nervously again.

“I mean, I know it’s a little different than the others. Maybe it’s a little too abstract, but—”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not abstract at all. It’s… It’s stunning work.”

“You think?” she said, the timber of her voice quivering with excitement.

I smiled.

“I can really see all the effort you put in,” I said. “It’s very unique and original. I can tell, too, that you put a lot of thought into it.”

She looked down, as if to hide the fact that her cheeks were turning red.

“I just… well… I was just afraid I wouldn’t measure up to everybody else here,” she said, letting out a breath of relief. “I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time.”

“You absolutely do measure up,” I said. “Actually, this is one of the—”

But I stopped speaking as I saw the woman’s eyes drift over my shoulder.

The smile fell from her face faster than a car off a steep cliff.

Her coloring turned stark white.

I furrowed my brow, confused by the sudden change in her expression. Then I turned to see who was standing there, and I understood.

Such a reaction from contestants had happened several times already today when Cliff Copperstone stopped at their station.

I supposed I had been no different when I’d seen him sitting in that resort boardroom a few days earlier. I, too, had been surprised and shocked at seeing a real life celebrity with my very own eyes.

But now that I knew how Cliff really was in real life, I sort of found myself resenting the way people were completely awestruck by him.

Because in my assessment, the man didn’t deserve one-tenth of the attention people hurled on him.

I stepped aside so that he and Councilwoman Tunstall could get a good look at the beautiful chocolate creation.

But as I did, I noticed that Cliff wasn’t making any move to go forward.  

He just stared at the contestant for a long moment, a strange, confounded look on his face.

But it wasn’t long before Cliff’s expression caved into one of unmistakable disgust.

I bit my lower lip, feeling immediate anger at the judgmental glare he was giving the poor woman.

After a moment, his eyes fell back down to his clipboard, and he scribbled something.

Then he brushed past us, hardly giving Samantha Garner’s lovingly-crafted chocolate sculpture more than a moment’s glance.

As I turned my attention back to her, I felt a pang of hurt deep down in my gut.

It was obvious that his reaction had completely crushed her.

What a complete jerk
.

I quickly filled out my scoresheet, giving Samantha Garner’s chocolate entry a full 10 out of 10.

“You did a beautiful job, Samantha,” I said.

She forced a smile, but it didn’t obscure the fact that the poor woman was close to tears.

My mind filled with expletives, all aimed squarely at Cliff Copperstone’s smug, mean face.

Chapter 19

“You don’t look happy,” Kara said.  

“I’m not. In fact, I’d say I’m downright…”

I trailed off, the anger I felt inside causing my voice to quiver.

Shortly after seeing Samantha Garner’s chocolate sculpture, Cliff Copperstone paused the entire judging process to step out and rebook his flight out of nearby Redmond, which not surprisingly, had been cancelled this afternoon due to the weather. That would have been just fine, if the call had taken five minutes or so. But thus far, nearly half an hour had gone by, and there was still no sign of the celebrity chef. The large crowd was starting to get antsy, and the voices, which had been hushed before, had now risen to loud, anxious grumblings.

The sound of the February wind roaring outside, combined with the creaking and groaning of the auditorium walls, only added to the tense feeling.

It was becoming obvious that the storm wasn’t dissipating. And that if we didn’t wrap the Chocolate Championship up in a timely fashion, a lot of people would have a tough time getting home this afternoon.

I stepped closer to Daniel and Kara, looking around to make sure no one heard what we were talking about.

“I can’t believe he’s making us all wait like this,” I said under my breath. “He’s the most unprofessional, inconsiderate, rude…”

I trailed off again.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was wasting everybody’s time that had gotten me so riled up.

The way Cliff Copperstone had treated Samantha Garner was beyond despicable. The woman had created a beautiful work of art, and he had dismissed it like it was unworthy of his time.

And what’s more, I had the sneaking suspicion that the reason he did so was because of the way Samantha Garner looked, and the fact that she wasn’t dressed professionally like the rest of the contestants here today.

The whole thing made my stomach turn.

I hated when people judged others based on their looks. And it was even more reprehensible in a setting like this, when people were supposed to be judged on their creativity – not whether or not they dressed the part of a pastry chef.

Kara shook her head slightly.

“Maybe Cliff is just having a bad day,” she said. “I mean, you never know. Maybe something’s going on with him and he doesn’t want to be here. You never know what people are going through.”

I knew that Kara was just trying to somehow justify his behavior. Being the big fan that she was, it must have been hard for her to hear the truth about what he was really like.

“Somehow I really doubt that it’s just a bad day,” I said, biting my lip. “I get the feeling that this is just how he is.”

She let out an unsteady breath.

“Well, I guess he’s not at all like he pretends to be on TV,” she said, sadly, her cotton candy dreams of Cliff Copperstone completely rained on.

“It’s just a real shame he turned out to be such a jerk,” she added. “I had such high hopes.”

I let out a sigh of my own.

“So did I.”

It wasn’t that I was thinking Cliff and I would be best friends after this. I had just hoped that I’d come through the Chocolate Championship with some good publicity for my business and maybe a good contact in the Northwest culinary world.

Obviously, I’d been grossly mistaken.

Daniel put an arm around my shoulder, comforting me.

“Cin, you don’t have to stand for any of this,” he said. “We can leave right this minute if you want.”

I shook my head.

“No, that’d only make it worse,” I said. “I’ve just got to get through it now.”  

I looked up at him and squeezed his hand, letting him know that I appreciated his thoughtfulness, nonetheless.

“Well, just think of this way: by tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten all about this whole thing,” he said. “And you’ll never have to look at another piece of chocolate so long as you live if you don’t want to.”

That got a slight smile out of me.

“That’s a little extreme,” I said. “I don’t know if I could live the rest of my life without chocolate.”

“Okay, well, you never have to look at a chocolate sculpture again,” he said. “Just keep your eyes on the prize, Cin. Stand up for yourself, and do your best just to get through this.”

I nodded some more.

“No chance you could cancel the event on account of the storm?” I asked. “Get me out of the unpleasant situation I’ve found myself in?”

I asked it in a joking tone, but then noticed the serious expression on his face.

“I have been thinking about that,” he said, pulling away and looking at me, then at Kara. “I’ve been thinking that if this thing doesn’t blow out within the next hour, then the Sheriff’s Office should step in.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“I know it’s not the popular thing to do,” he said. “But I don’t think a few chocolate sculptures are worth anybody losing their lives over. No matter what Julie Van Dorn might have to say about it”

“Jeez. Is it that bad out there?” Kara asked.

From inside the windowless auditorium, the only way anybody knew there was a storm going on was from the sound of the building groaning in the wind. 

“It’s getting there,” Daniel said bluntly. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

Kara’s eyes widened slightly. Then she looked at me.

We were two-thirds of the way through the judging. The last third shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour, I wagered.

Everybody had put so much effort into their chocolate art work. Some folks had come as far as Denver and San Diego to compete. And as long as we all were here, it seemed a shame to cancel the event before a winner could be declared.

“I’ll see you guys in a little bit,” I said, squeezing both of their shoulders and backing away.

“Where are you going?” Kara asked.

If Julie Van Dorn was going to let Cliff Copperstone run roughshod on all of us, then somebody else was going to have to put their foot down.

“I’m going to get this damn show on the road,” I said.

Chapter 20

He might have been some big shot in the culinary world.

Hell, he might have been the best chef this side of the Rockies.

But Cliff Copperstone was in Christmas River now.

He wasn’t in a place like New York City, where behavior like this might have been tolerated. He was in Christmas River. And in Christmas River, people were expected to act like considerate, civilized human beings.

And if nobody was going to set him straight, then I guess it was left up to me to make things right.

I opened the heavy metal door that led out of the auditorium and walked down the long deserted hallway that paralleled the large covered area and parking lot outside. My eyes drifted out the windows.

I found myself suddenly stopping dead in my tracks.

“Oh my…” I mumbled, unable to complete the sentence.

Living in the mountains of Central Oregon, I’d seen a good share of storms in my time. Storms that ripped down trees and hurled snow and caused whole forests to fall deathly silent. 

But never had I seen what I was seeing now.  

Drifts, nearly hip-high, covered the sidewalks. Several pine trees surrounding the lot were bent down in agony, the weight of the snow pushing them to their breaking point. The cars in the parking lot were just mounds of fresh powder. The grey skies overhead weren’t done unleashing their fury, either. Bits of swirling ice and snow filled the air, dancing in the stiff winds.

And perhaps what was most shocking of all was the sheen that lay atop the snow pack, glistening in the pale afternoon light.  

Though I had only seen it once when I was just a child, I knew that this was what old timers like Warren around these parts called
Dead Man’s Glow
.

It was a rare occurrence in Central Oregon. But every once and a while, a real rip-roarer of a storm would come barreling through our mountains, bringing with it an unholy barrage of ice that snapped trees, downed powerlines, and could hurt people.  

And in some cases, more than just hurt people. Hence the name,
Dead Man’s Glow
.

I felt a pit growing in my stomach as I gazed at the treacherous landscape.

Warren had been right about those clouds the night before.

We needed to wrap the Chocolate Championship up. And we needed to wrap it up now—