Chapter 38

  

Penelope stood next to Sybil the next afternoon on the set. She was armed with correctly made smoothies for Dakota and Jackson for when they wrapped up their scene.

Jackson seemed out of sorts that day, and had more than the usual number of missed cues and forgotten lines. Dakota played happily outside of camera range like she always did, spinning herself around or using her fingers as pretend puppets to talk to each other.

“Cut!” Jennifer yelled, then looked guiltily at Janie, who gazed at the set from a director’s chair. “Let’s take twenty and reset.”

The crew members wandered away for their short break, heading to the craft-service table for a snack or stepping outside for air.

Janie waved Jennifer over to her chair and pointed to something on her copy of the script. Jackson and Dakota hurried over to Penelope and she gave them their smoothies. She watched their cheeks sink in as they sucked the strawberry and almond milk concoctions through the wide straws.

“Jackson,” Sybil asked when he took a break from his drink, “what’s going on today? Are you feeling all right?”

Jackson rolled his eyes at his mom, which caused her to put her hand to her throat. “Excuse me, young man, but you will not roll your eyes at your mother.”

Penelope took a step backwards, not wanting to intrude on the private mother-son moment. Just then Randall strolled onto the set, making his way to Arlena and giving her a quick hug. Jackson rolled his eyes again and stalked away, sucking harder on his straw.

“Thanks, Miss Penelope,” Dakota said, keeping an eye on her brother.

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Penelope said, giving Sybil a sympathetic glance.

“He’s upset I went out last night,” Sybil said, waving it off. “He’ll get over it.”

Penelope nodded silently. She couldn’t pretend to know what it was like to be a single mother, or to even have children for that matter.

“Sybil,” Penelope said, “remember that thing you said last night about an investment opportunity?”

Sybil nodded as she tightened Dakota’s pigtails, tugging gently on them until the girl protested and scurried away. “Yes, it’s restaurant shares or something. I’m a bit fuzzy on the details. Ava pitched me after a few glasses of wine at the bar, then dropped off some paperwork at the inn. To be honest, I haven’t looked at it. Like I said, I was just being polite.”

“Thanks,” Penelope said. “See you at dinner later?”

“Maybe,” Sybil said, throwing a glance in Randall’s direction. Arlena gave Sybil a tight smile. Penelope got the impression Arlena wasn’t thrilled at the idea of sharing her father either, even though she was twenty years older than Jackson. Penelope figured some things between parents and children never changed.

  

“Herring – Steele,” Penelope mumbled, swiping open her iPad in the cab of her truck and searching up the company’s website. She was curious why Ava had never mentioned anything about an investment group to her at the restaurant, considering they had been working so closely the past few weeks.

Penelope searched the company name again, this time adding on “restaurant” to the keywords. No official website appeared, but a link to a PDF on the state of Indiana’s property registry caught her eye. A deed inched open on the screen listing Herring – Steele Inc. as the seller and Jacob Pears as the buyer of the address 227 Main Street in Forrestville. Penelope tried to picture which building that was. Not able to place it, she searched it and found it was the diner.

“Jacob Pears,” Penelope said out loud in the truck. “The owner of the newspaper owns the diner too?” She wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything, but it certainly was interesting that the man who had the only competing eatery in town had attempted to tarnish Festa’s reputation. “At the very least that’s a conflict of interest. At most he was intentionally trying to damage Jordan’s business.”

She thought back to Ava in the kitchen telling her that she and Jordan bought the diner before Festa was renovated and opened.

“Maybe they made a bad deal,” Penelope pondered out loud. “Or he just really doesn’t like Festa’s food.” Penelope tried to imagine which scenario made more sense and failed to come up with a logical reason for either. She hopped down from the cab and locked up, then walked over to Festa to ask Ava herself.

As she crossed the courtyard, Penelope’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. “Sheriff Bryson,” Penelope said. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could come down to the station,” he said. “I’ve got some paperwork for you. Some new information has come to light regarding the restaurant break-in.”

“You should talk to Ava,” Penelope said, happy to have washed her hands of all things Festa.

“Well, I could,” the sheriff answered cagily. “But I prefer speaking with you. Would you mind heading over?”

Penelope sighed. “Sure, I’ll let my team know I’ll be off-site for a bit.”

Sheriff Bryson hung up without saying goodbye. Penelope turned and walked to the parking lot.