Menace in Christmas River (Christmas River 8) (3 page)

But despite her not looking like a local, I was well-familiar with Julie Van Dorn. For several years, she had worked in the public relations department of Pohly County. In her role, she often had to work with Daniel and the Sheriff’s Department in various capacities.

Though Daniel rarely said a bad thing about anybody, he did tell me that Julie could come on a little strong sometimes.

And though he had never said anything about it, I got the sense that when Julie left the county last year to start her own public relations firm, he hadn’t been all that sad.

I met her outstretched hand. She had a crushing handshake that almost took my breath away.

“We actually have met,” I said, correcting her. “At the County’s Children’s Benefit last year. Just before you left Pohly County, actually.”

The benefit, which was an annual event to raise money for local children in need, was held every spring and always attended by myself and the Sheriff to show our support.

This past spring, Julie had come to the benefit stag wearing a sheer, low-cut, red dress that had town gossips like Moira Stewart wagging their tongues for months afterwards.

“Really?” Julie said, furrowing her brow slightly. “My memory must be bad. I don’t recall meeting you at all that night.”

Another thing about that evening – Julie had been hitting the punch bowl pretty hard.

She cleared her throat, as if reading my mind there. Then she tossed her raven hair back non-chalantly.

“I know this is all a little bit out of the blue,” she said, glancing at Holly Smith, who was sitting in a chair next to her boss, smiling modestly. “But we really appreciate you coming on such short notice, Cinnamon.”

“Sure,” I said. “Was, uh, was there something wrong with my application?”

I felt my stomach twist in knots as I noticed that Cliff Copperstone was looking at me again.

I still wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. It seemed like this was just the kind of incident that was typical of a strange, head-scratcher of a dream. Finding yourself in a luxurious resort with the likes of a celebrity chef seemed like it fit the bill, all right.

Julie smiled at me, revealing two rows of bleached-white teeth that could have given Julia Roberts a run for her money.

“Ha!” she said, tilting her head back self-consciously and laughing. “Heavens no, there was nothing wrong with your application, doll. Please, won’t you take a seat?”

She gestured toward one of the empty chairs across from Cliff Copperstone. I hesitated for a moment, my eyes drifting back toward him.

“Uh…” I said, dumbly.

Julie smiled knowingly again.

“Cliff has this effect on a lot of people,” she said, coming over and putting an arm around my shoulder. “But don’t worry. Despite what you might have seen on TV, he doesn’t bite. I promise.”

“Not unless you present me with a piss-poor plate of food,” Cliff said, looking down and smiling a sarcastic smile. “Then I might.”

The rest of the committee members at the table, which numbered about ten or so, laughed nervously. I recognized one of them as being an old stalwart of the Christmas River City Council: Eleanor Tunstall. It had been announced the month before that she would serve as an honorary judge in the competition.

I eventually did as Julie said, feeling flustered as I took a seat in the buttery leather of the boardroom chair.  

I felt as though I had stumbled into some sort of alternate universe.

“Well, as you’ve probably put together by now, you’ve discovered what we’ve been trying to keep quiet for months now, Cinnamon,” Julie said, taking a seat next to Cliff across the table. “The Chocolate Championship snagged a
real life
celebrity chef to help judge this year’s event. Which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you is not only a real boon for the competition, but for the town of Christmas River itself.”

I had to keep my mouth from dropping open.  

She looked over at Cliff, her eyes practically dancing as she continued.

“Cliff, this is Cinnamon Peters,” she said, nodding to me.

Cliff Copperstone nodded in my direction.

Then after an awkward pause, he stiffly stood up and reached across the table, sticking out his hand.

I nearly fell over myself trying to meet it – my insides were trembling something terrible from nerves.

He shook my hand firmly and very briefly, then sank back down in his chair.

I smiled a tight, stressed smile.

“It’s really great to meet you,” I squeaked out. “I, uh, I’ve seen you on the TV.”

I’ve seen you on the TV…
Jeez, I sounded like a damn hillbilly. But if Cliff thought that too, he didn’t let it show. He just nodded back, reservedly.

I was sure he was used to such nervous utterances by now.

“Cinnamon runs a very successful pie shop here in town,” Julie said. “And on top of that, she’s won several Gingerbread Junction titles, including this past December’s. I suppose you could say that she’s the closest thing Christmas River has to a celebrity chef.”

Everybody chuckled slightly at that, and I found myself surprised by Julie’s glowing description of me.

My cheeks grew red from all the attention.

“I don’t know if you could call me that,” I said, sheepishly. “I mean, I bake pie. That’s about it.”

“Nonsense, Cinnamon,” Councilwoman Eleanor Tunstall said, leaning back in her chair. “You’re much more than that to this community, and you know it.”

The councilwoman was in her mid-fifties and had served nearly three terms on the city council. She favored black-framed eyeglasses, cropped orange hair, and bright, scarlet lipstick. She also had a fondness for Mountain Cherry Pie, and had been a loyal customer of
Cinnamon’s Pies
since I first opened the shop. Occasionally, she would conduct bi-monthly meetings with her
Women Entrepreneurs of Central Oregon
group at the shop, bringing me even more business.

“Did all of you know that this lady makes the best cherry pie this side of Timbuktu?” she said, nodding to me.

The committee chuckled at the outlandish statement.

One of the reasons the councilwoman had been reelected to her seat so many times was on account of her talent at flattery.

“And she’s also an upstanding citizen,” she continued. “Married to the Sheriff of Pohly County, no less. This town is real proud of her.”

All the compliments and attention were setting my cheeks on fire.

“Please, Ms. Tunstall, you’re embarrassing poor Cinnamon,” Julie said abruptly.

It wasn’t lost on me that Julie Van Dorn’s face had darkened slightly at the mention of the Pohly County Sheriff.

Julie cleared her throat, turning toward me.

“Cinnamon, we’ve asked you to come to this meeting tonight because the committee has found itself in a bit of a pickle.

“You see, we’ve been lucky enough to have Cliff agree to help judge this year. And as you already know, it’s customary to have a member of the town’s government be on the judging panel as well in this competition. But unfortunately, we received a very disappointing phone call from the woman who was to be our third judge. Trixie Curtis – the owner of the
All About That Bundt
chain? She was supposed to judge this weekend. But because of a family emergency, she’ll be unable to make it out here to Christmas River for the event.”

Julie glanced around the room, and then paused for a long moment, looking at me as if that should mean something.

I cleared my throat and wiped my balmy hands off on my jeans.

“Jeez, I’m really sorry to hear that,” I said. “I hope everything’s all right with her.”

Julie stared at me blankly, as if I’d just said something wrong.

I swallowed hard and looked around the room at the other committee members. They had similar expressions.

Julie let out a deep, exasperated breath.

“You see, Cinnamon, that means—” she started, but was abruptly interrupted.

“We want you to be the third judge, Cinnamon,” Councilwoman Tunstall said bluntly.

I felt the wind go right out of my lungs.

Chapter 4

I swallowed hard.

“Me?” I finally squeaked out.

Eleanor Tunstall nodded.

“You’re the perfect third judge,” she said. “A local girl who’s become a real success story. You’ve pulled yourself up by your bootstraps, kid. And not only that, but you know these kinds of competitions better than almost anyone. You’ve been a Gingerbread Junction competitor since you were a teenager. And you’re known in this community to be honest and trustworthy. Why, I can’t think of a better judge for something like this.”

I took in a deep breath, glancing around the room at all the expectant faces.

If Julie’s assistant had told me beforehand that this was the reason I’d been summoned up to the resort, I would have laughed in her face, thinking she was pulling my leg.

But nobody was laughing now.

“If I’m a judge, does that mean I can’t compete in the Championship?” I asked.

“The bylaws don’t allow for a judge to compete as well,” Julie said. “But we could return the entrance fee to you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

I rubbed my chin.

It wasn’t what I was concerned about at all.

I cleared my throat and paused for a long, long moment.

It wasn’t that I wanted to disappoint the committee or the councilwoman or anybody else for that matter.

But they were all overlooking one glaringly obvious fact.  

“Wow… this is… this is all very flattering,” I said.

I swallowed hard.

“But I don’t think I can do it.”

Julie’s eyes grew large – my response had clearly not been the one she’d expected.

I adjusted in my seat as everyone looked at me.
Uncomfortable
didn’t begin to describe the way I felt.

“You see, I’ll concede that I’m pretty good at building gingerbread houses,” I said. “But if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m at all qualified to judge a competition at this level.”

I heard what sounded like a scoff escape Cliff Copperstone’s mouth.

“Well neither am I, honey,” Councilwoman Tunstall said. “But you don’t see me advertising it.”

I smiled at her.

“I’m afraid from the get go, I’ve been in over my head with this competition. And I just wouldn’t feel right judging others’ work when I am unable to do it very well myself—”

“Oh,
please
,” Cliff Copperstone suddenly uttered.

Caught by surprise, I completely forgot what I was going to say next.

He flashed his eyes in my direction.

“You’ll do
just fine
,” he said. “It’s a big opportunity for somebody like you. You know what they say about opportunity knocking and all that BS. Don’t miss out just because of some false modesty.”

I furrowed my brow. The way he said all of it sat poorly with me.

For somebody like you.

I couldn’t be sure if he meant it to sound condescending, but it did.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pass—”

“Please, Cinnamon,” Councilwoman Tunstall interjected before I could give my final answer. “It’s not just about this committee, you see. It’s about Christmas River, itself. This is the largest event of its kind to ever be held in our little town. And frankly…”

She paused, which added emphasis to her words.

“Frankly, Cinnamon – Christmas River needs you.”

I felt my mouth go bone dry.

“What do you say?” she said after a long moment. “Can we count on you for this, kid?”

That was another reason why Eleanor Tunstall had been elected to the city council so many times.

She was hard to say no to.

Chapter 5

When I walked in out of the cold, I was barraged by four things.  

First by the heavenly, knee-weakening aroma of meat, wine, potatoes and rosemary after they’d been stewing together for hours.

Then by the sound of Dean Martin crooning about sweet memories.

And finally, by two very excited and furry pooches scrambling across the hardwood to greet me.

I hung my purse up on the coat rack and dropped down to my knees just as Huckleberry and Chadwick crashed into me. This was followed by a flurry of slobbery kisses, wagging tails, and howls of unadulterated joy.

I laughed, giving them both a few good pets and telling them how much I missed them all day. Then I kissed each of them on top of their sweet, petal-soft heads.

When I stood up, a tall, lean, handsome figure stood in the hallway.

“Do I get one of those too?”

“Depends,” I answered, taking off my coat and hanging it next to the purse.

“On what?”

“On whether you’ve been good all day, too,” I said coyly.

Daniel grinned. The next thing I knew, I was in his arms. The music took us, and we started swaying to the rhythm. He started humming along in a deep croon, just like a regular day Dean Martin.

I started laughing, following his lead until we made it to the dining room.

Candles flickered on our rustic pine table. Plates and silverware were all laid out and ready to go. Flames crackled in the fireplace.

“What’s all this for?” I said, stopping to admire the cozy scene.  

He shrugged.

“Just because,” he said.

“Just because?” 

“Well, I know you’re gonna be swamped these next few days with preparing for the competition and making sure things run smoothly at the shop,” he said. “And since we’re not really gonna be able to celebrate Valentine’s Day like most folks, I figured I’d try to get some quality time in beforehand.”

I felt a warm bubbly feeling rise up in my heart, as if I’d already had several glasses of champagne.

“Really?”

He nodded, gazing down at me. There was a sparkle in his eyes that was practically contagious.

I kissed him softly on the lips.

A moment later, he led me to my chair and started pouring me a glass of red wine from a bottle encased in gold netting.

He was pulling out all the stops.