I called Evan with news of the red cell phone, then went to wait for him at Caroline’s Cupcakes. I hadn’t seen Caroline in two days, her shop was the first place that came to mind when Evan told me to meet him someplace safe.
Caroline’s Cupcakes was a precious little space filled with mouthwatering scents of warm vanilla and spun sugar. Caroline had decorated in creams and whites with enough pastel pinks and blues to make guests feel like they’d walked into a dream. Her cupcakes were light as air and heavenly good—the perfect balance of cake and frosting in every bite.
I felt my tension ease as I stepped over the threshold and into the delightful shop.
A line of customers stretched from the service counter to the door. Every table and chair was filled with guests. Some people were forced to stand near seated family members and friends, but no one seemed bothered. In fact, the whole room chatted merrily, oblivious to my recent threat and inner turmoil.
Caroline took one look at me and left her post.
Her workers filled the void, seamlessly stepping in as she rushed to my side.
The concern on her perfect features drew tears to my eyes.
“Glory!” she whispered, clasping my arm and pulling me toward a door marked “Employees Only.” “What on earth happened?”
I raised the red cell phone in a trembling mitten-clad hand. “Can I borrow a baggie?”
She frowned at the device, then quickly released me in a storeroom lined in white shelving. “Stay right here. I won’t be a minute.”
Dozens of pastry boxes waited with me. Each wore a golden seal with a Caroline’s Cupcakes logo and a pink receipt taped to the lid.
She returned quickly, as promised, a gallon-sized freezer bag in hand. “Come on.” She motioned me into the smaller, Pinterest board–worthy, space that was her office. “Sit.”
My knees bent on command, and I fell into an overstuffed pink velvet armchair across from her polished white desk. I fumbled the offending telephone into the bag and tugged off my mittens. My trembling fingers struggled to seal the plastic zipper.
Caroline opened a small refrigerator beside a bookcase of recipe books and passed me a water bottle. “Can I get you anything to munch on?” she asked.
I shook my head before I downed half the water.
“Tell me about this.” She pointed to the bagged phone.
I finished the water, then filled her in.
Caroline gasped. Her thin blond brows pinched in offense. “Rude.”
“I know,” I said. “Evan’s on his way. I asked him to meet me here.”
“Good.” She rubbed my shoulder, then gave it a squeeze. “I’ve been meaning to check on you after the murder, but business has been absolute bananas around here. No matter how much I bake, I’m always sold out before dinner, which really upsets my usual customers who work nine to five or own a shop like me and can’t get away. I started taking orders through the night, filling them in the morning. and storing them for pickup in the evening, but that means I’m out of product even sooner for my business-hours shoppers.” She released a long sigh, then stiffened. “Oh my goodness. this is not about me!”
I laughed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re overwhelmed. It sounds stressful, and I know how much the success of your store means to you.”
Her expression softened. “At least no one is threatening to drown me in dough, or whatever that caller was insinuating.”
Right.
She handed me another bottle of water. “I’ll be right back. I want to let the staff know they should send Evan to my office when he arrives.”
I took a series of steadying breaths to gather my wits in her absence, reminding myself that I was safe with each exhalation. My heart rate was less frantic when she returned.
Caroline’s gentle smile warmed me as she stepped back into view, a white pastry box in hand. “I made something for you.” She perched on her desk before me, and I gazed at the little box. The plastic window on top revealed a series of white frosted cupcakes with a variety of sugar crystals and patterns.
My eyes misted with tears. “These are the cupcakes you made for my wedding.”
She nodded. “I thought they’d make a nice anniversary gift.”
I set the box aside so I could hug her. Tears rolled over my cheeks. “They’re perfect.”
Caroline released me, looking proud. “I’m glad you think so. You’re not an easy person to buy for. From the outside looking in, you already have everything you want.”
That was true, and the view was much the same from where I stood. “I will always want more of your cupcakes,” I promised.
“Stop. Now I’m going to cry.”
We laughed though a mini round of tears, then fell into a moment of silence as we looked at each other. I wasn’t sure what I’d do without Caroline in my life, and I knew she felt the same.
“So,” she said, straightening and wiping the pad of her thumb beneath each eye. “How are you and Evan doing? Since the murder, I mean. He must be freaking out.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not really. I don’t think he minds the murder. Not that he wants anyone to be murdered.” I backpedaled and she laughed. “It’s just that sometimes I think he misses working in Boston. Chasing real criminals and putting killers in jail.”
“He doesn’t want crime to happen anywhere, but when it does, he’s excited to facilitate justice,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“That makes perfect sense,” she agreed. “He’s very good at his job. He proves that to the town every year. How are the two of you managing all this?” She circled a finger in the air, not seeming to indicate anything in particular, but I knew better.
“My snooping?” I guessed.
She shrugged, too kind to say it aloud.
“He doesn’t like it.”
She smiled and lifted her brows. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” I echoed sadly.
Elijah Snow’s murder had been the first since Evan and I had exchanged vows last year. Until now, things between us had been wonderful. A perfect eleven-and-a-half-month honeymoon phase.
“I’m unintentionally provoking him,” I said.
Caroline sighed. “I think you’re intentionally provoking a killer, and that worries your husband. It could be worse. Imagine marrying a guy who didn’t care about that.”
I couldn’t imagine it, and I didn’t want to. While we were on the subject—“Tell me more about the dinner you had with the Snows at your parents’ house,” I said.
She considered my request for one long beat, then crossed her legs and met my eyes. “Dad and Elijah talked all night, excluding the rest of us as soon as the greetings and niceties were over. Then Mom squared her shoulders and decided to pretend she didn’t notice by consuming Mrs. Snow with endless conversations about the town, our Victorian theme, her time here, and so on.”
“Your mom knew Mrs. Snow before?” I asked.
Caroline nodded. “Apparently, she babysat my mom. I had no idea.”
“What was said about Violet’s time here?”
“Just that it had been hard to leave in the moment, but it all worked out because she met her husband soon after the move, and they married right away. He was a soldier home on leave. They fell in love. He was deployed.” She rocked her head side to side. “They were together forty-five years before he passed.”
“Interesting.”
She frowned. “Romantic was the word that came to my mind, but okay.” She shook her head, amused. “Zane and I sat at the other end of the table, completely ignored. It was awful, but also kind of nice. My parents insisted I be there, and that frustrated me, but Zane agreed to keep me company, and he makes most things better, so I can’t complain too much. Plus they served chocolate mousse, and we both asked for seconds just to get under Mom’s skin.”
I laughed.
She checked her watch. “All right. Evan will be here any minute, so you might as well tell me where you are in this investigation and see if I can help.”
It was pointless to play dumb with Caroline. She knew me too well, and I’d already started the conversation by asking about dinner. Also, what was taking Evan so long? I hoped he was okay and that everyone else in town was too.
“Elijah had meetings set with people in town this week,” I said, refocusing on Caroline’s request. “His mom says he was trying to create more rentals for tourists or new shops.”
“Where?” she asked, looking as baffled as I felt. “The Historical Society would never approve a new building anywhere near downtown, and there isn’t any room anyway. Even home builders have to jump through hoops to meet the criteria on their own land.”
“That’s what I thought, but Mrs. Snow said he was meeting with Mr. Weible and Hamish Hunter. Evan said he had an appointment on the books with the Historical Society too.”
Caroline tapped red manicured nails on the desk. “My dad worked with Orrville Lincoln at the Historical Society while he was arranging the partnership with the Chamber of Commerce. It’s a long shot, but it might be worth checking out.”
“Ever heard of Hamish Hunter?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, eyes wide. “He’s the multimillionaire with that big house on the hill. It has all those rectangular floor-to-ceiling windows and multitier decks. The one that looks like a Swiss chalet.”
I flipped mentally through all the biggest homes I could think of, but none fit the description she’d suggested. “Where?”
“Near the ski resort. The house overlooks town, but that guy’s never there. I think he just keeps the house as a tax write-off.”
“A multimillionaire, a Historical Society employee, and a retired electrician. I guess the first two make sense. Elijah would’ve had to work within Mistletoe’s guidelines to create rentals.” There were strict parameters and major fines for anyone daring to disregard the rules that kept us on the National Register of Historic Places.
“I think Mr. Weible works with the Historical Society from time to time,” Caroline added, interrupting my thoughts. “He has a lot of experience working on the really old properties. There aren’t a lot of people in Mistletoe who are qualified to repair century-old machines and gadgets. My dad thought he’d have to fly the clock from the square to another state when it quit working. The costs for shipping were astronomical, and the risk of further damage was even worse. Then someone recommended he ask Mr. Weible about it, and Weible had the clock running again in no time. His hourly rate was negligible when compared to the alternative, and he thanked my dad for the opportunity to work on something so rare.”
I warmed at the sweet story.
Heavy footfalls echoed on the floor outside the office, pulling my eyes to Evan’s as he appeared in the open doorway.
He was crouched before me in the next instant, cold palms on my hot cheeks. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, suddenly emotional again.
He glanced at Caroline. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “Anytime.” She offered me a little-finger wave, then saw herself out.
Evan scanned me head to toe before easing back. “I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I forgot the roads were closed, and I had to find somewhere to leave my cruiser. I considered using my lights but suspected the town wouldn’t see this as an emergency since you, thankfully, aren’t in danger. I decided not to make any enemies, and parked a couple of blocks away, but then I had to navigate the crowd.”
I blinked back building tears. “I’m fine, and I know you got here as soon as you could.” I raised the bagged phone.
Evan rocked onto his knees and set his forehead against mine for a long moment. I ran my fingers through his messy hair. From the looks of it, he’d been doing the same before his arrival.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, stomach tensing with regret. I hated anything that caused him distress. Knowing I was the reason he’d fallen to his knees was gutting.
He shifted back into a crouch and met my eye. “Last year I promised you, myself, your parents, and everyone in this town I’d always love you exactly as you are. I promised I’d do my best to keep you safe.” He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “No one thought for a second you’d make that easy.”
I grinned. “You’re not mad?”
“At whoever threatened my wife? Hell, yes. At you, no.”
I kissed him.
“All right,” he said, pulling away too soon. “I see you already bagged the evidence.”
“I did.”
He raised the red phone, crinkling its plastic sheath. “Cute. The sheriff’s department’s bags don’t have all these little pink hearts and cartoon cupcakes.”
“Caroline makes everything truly adorable,” I said. “And she recreated the cupcakes from our wedding as an anniversary gift. Would you like one?”
He followed my outstretched finger to the box on her desk, then he opened lid with reverence and selected a sweet. He peeled the pastel paper away on one side. “You first.”
I took a bite and stifled a moan of pleasure.
Evan pushed the rest of the cake into his mouth and chewed. His shoulders drooped and the tension fell from his features. “Magic.”
“Truly,” I agreed.
He stretched onto his feet and assumed the frustrated husband stance I knew well. One hip cocked, one hand on his waist, the other in his hair. “I love you to the cosmos, but you’re going to be the death of me. You know that, right?”
I nodded regretfully, desperately hoping the second part wasn’t true.