EPILOGUE

The Black Forest Bakery was buzzing with activity on the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day.

Tourists who had spent the holiday weekend in town were crowding the place. Spelt apple and Bavarian rye bread, cinnamon breakfast muffins, cheese strudels, raspberry rumbles, almond and chocolate crescents, and fruit turnovers, and as well as a variety of cupcakes, cream puffs, pastries, croissants, tarts, tortes, cakes, and pretzels, were flying off the shelves. They were going so fast, Maggie could barely keep up with her restocking efforts, running back and forth to the kitchen, while Candy worked at the cash register, her fingers moving as fast as possible. Every once in a while she looked up at the line stretched before her, which seemed to keep getting longer, then pressed her lips together and turned back to her work. In the kitchen, Herr Georg did what he did best, and the smells emanating through the shop were the best evidence possible of his culinary efforts.

By late morning the crowds began to thin a little, and the three of them finally had a chance to talk, as Herr Georg meandered out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.

“My, what a morning!” he exclaimed. “It seems the crowds are getting larger all the time.”

“We might have to expand, my dear,” Maggie said, sidling up to him and hugging his arm. “I heard the place next door might be available soon. Maybe we should think about buying it, knocking out the wall, and putting the gift items on that side. It would free up some space for additional shelves in here.”

“Hmm, yes, a wonderful idea,” the baker said. “I’ll certainly look into it.”

The three of them hadn’t had much time to talk since the Wolfsburgers returned from their honeymoon at Niagara Falls, which they said was chilly but beautiful. They’d been busy setting up the shop, and Candy and Doc had been equally busy out at Blueberry Acres, especially in the vegetable garden, which they’d expanded shortly after the reception tent had come down. They’d also filled the hoophouse with growing plants and had cleared out a spot for their small grove of cherry trees. It was only this morning the three of them had a chance to hook up, when Maggie called the farmhouse frantically, asking for Candy’s help in manning the shop.

For Candy, it was like old times. She’d worked in the bakery for several years, before Maggie took over her position behind the counter, and her old skills with the cash register came back easily. The aromas and atmosphere in the bakery reminded her of the years that had passed. They’d been through a lot in this village over the past six or seven years, she thought, including a number of murders, but she hoped the worst of it was behind them, and they could finally all get back to what they did best.

She’d heard not a word from any of the Sykes family members since her encounter with them at the Whitby estate. They seemed to have holed themselves up in their mansion in Marblehead. Finn occasionally gave her a little news about the status of Scotty and Plymouth, as well as the police investigation into Porter’s possible link to the murder of Julius Seabury. But so far he hadn’t been charged, and Candy wouldn’t be surprised if he never was. He seemed to have escaped from justice once again.

As long as he stayed far away from the village, she was fine with that.

Her father had attended his first board meeting at the museum, and had been warmly welcomed by all. Porter Sykes had not called in during the meeting, Doc informed her when he got home, and according to Owen, had resigned his seat on the board after serving on it for nearly a decade—much to the relief of all involved, especially the museum director.

The Whitby place was vacant again. It hadn’t sold, and Candy didn’t know if it would for a while. But there was always a chance someone “from away” would sweep in and snatch it up. That’s the way it worked sometimes along the Maine coast.

As the three of them were talking, Candy noticed that the baker was watching her oddly, and when there was a break in the conversation, she said, “Herr Georg, is everything all right? You look pensive.”

“I was just thinking,” he said. “It slipped my mind in all the activity of the last few weeks, but, well, it’s about those copies I still have in the safe in my office.”

“Ahh.” Candy nodded knowingly, and she lowered her voice before she said, “The copies of those famous deeds, which were destroyed by Scotty.”

“Yes, exactly. But unfortunately I still have them, so they’re not really gone, are they?”

“No, but they’re safe for now, and no one knows about them except us.”

“So what do you think we should do with them?” Herr Georg asked.

“We’ve both been talking about it,” Maggie put in. “I think we should have a nice bonfire some night and burn them, just like Scotty did with the originals.”

“And I tend to agree,” said the baker, “though I know they still might have some historical value. However, I’m afraid that if they get out into the open again, we’ll be right back where we were before, with the Sykes family trying to get hold of them.”

“That’s true,” Candy said, “and those are all good points. But I’m not sure I have an immediate answer for you. I’ve thought about those copies, too, and I lean toward Maggie’s suggestion. It probably would be best to get rid of them once and for all.”

Maggie sensed some hesitation in her friend’s tone. “But . . . ?”

Candy shrugged. “But I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do.” She thought about it a minute. “Why don’t we do this, if it’s okay with you two? I’ll talk to Dad about it, and maybe Neil as well. And possibly even Owen, though I’m not sure I should bring him into this. Honestly, I’m still not really sure I can trust him at all. Maybe just the five of us. And we can talk it over and come to some sort of conclusion about what to do with them.”

Herr Georg thought about it a moment, and finally nodded. “Very well. But if possible, I’d like to resolve this issue as quickly as we can. I feel like I’m holding on to a hot potato, and I don’t want it to burn my fingers.”

Candy nodded. “I’ll try to have an answer for you in a few days.”

“The sooner, the better,” the baker said. “The last two people who had those deeds—Miles Crawford and Julius Seabury—were both killed because of them. I don’t want that to happen to me!”

“Heaven forbid!” Maggie exclaimed, and she gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t talk like that, my Kuschelbär! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

That made Herr Georg chuckle, and he patted her hand. “Don’t you worry, mein Liebchen. I’m not planning on going anywhere for a long, long time. By the way,” he said, turning back to Candy, “did I tell you that I had an idea for a new pastry when we were at Niagara Falls?”

“No, you didn’t,” Candy said, glad for the change in subject. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, after all you did to solve this most recent mystery, and in such a way that it didn’t interfere with our wedding, I thought I should create something special to commemorate your achievements over the past few years. So I’m going to create a new pastry in your honor. It’s going to be made with blueberries and cinnamon, of course, with a delectable frosting and perhaps a splash of rum. I’m going to call it the Candy Holliday Mystery Strudel!”

They all laughed at that, and got right back to work as more customers starting coming through the door.