Walking into a warm home after taking a cold snowmobile ride had to be one of the best sensations life had to offer—especially when the home was as beautiful as this one.
I mean, yes, again, Hemlock Estate was a gorgeous house any time of the year, but tonight, she was spectacular. The main entrance hall in which we were now standing had a classic black-and-white tile floor and two wrought-iron staircases that curved up either side of the foyer to the second floor. Dropped down in between was an enormous mirrored glass chandelier that did a pretty fantastic job of setting off the white poinsettias and giant freestanding candelabras that filled the room.
I only had a second to enjoy it, though, before I was torn from the view by Freddie’s fingers snapping in the air.
“What are you doing?”
“Summoning Tyler.”
I spotted the teenage boy hurrying across the foyer.
“By snapping at him?”
“He likes it,” Freddie said sharply, while clipping a bedazzled leash onto Stanley’s collar. “Makes him feel important.”
“Right.”
Tyler and two of his buddies had crashed Freddie’s boat about a year and a half ago during a joyride. After much pleading from the boys’ parents, Freddie had opted not to press charges—if the boys agreed to an informal community-service agreement. Now, when anybody in town needed anything—driveway shoveled, rain gutters cleaned, dogs walked—the boys were called up to bat. I guess Freddie had volunteered them to help out at the party tonight.
Turned out, they were all pretty nice kids. They just didn’t have the best judgment, as evidenced by the joyride that got them into their indentured servitude in the first place. And even though they had crashed Freddie’s baby, he had formed a strange bond with the teens. I think they found his constant insults entertaining. Tyler was my favorite of them all. He was a little shy, but a total sweetheart.
“Sorry, Miss Erica,” Tyler said, hurrying to take my coat then Freddie’s. “They needed me in the kitchen.”
“Miss Erica?” I repeated, looking pointedly at Freddie.
“What? I’m teaching him some manners and respect.” He then lowered Stanley to the floor and pointed at him. “Don’t pee.”
Stanley just groaned and closed his eyes.
Freddie sighed then frowned at Tyler. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the boy’s throat.
Tyler tilted his chin down in a vain attempt to get a look at his own neck.
“Straighten your tie. That is a two-thousand-dollar tuxedo jacket you’re wearing. Show some respect.”
I looked back and forth between the two of them. Two-thousand-dollar…?
“Better?” Tyler asked, tugging at the ends of his bow tie—our jackets still hanging over his arm.
Freddie sniffed. “Passable.”
“Do you think Chloe will like it?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Off with you.”
Tyler smiled and shot Freddie a thumbs-up. “Your dog’s awesome, by the way.”
“He’s not my—”
But Tyler had already taken off in what I was guessing must be the direction of the coat room.
I waved a hand after him. “What was that all about?”
Freddie rolled his eyes. “He wants to impress this girl Chloe, so I lent him some clothes. She’s helping out tonight too.”
“Oh yeah, I know Chloe,” I said. “I mean, not well, but, whatever, that is so sweet of you.”
Freddie let out a disgusted sigh. “I’m regretting it already. I’ll never get all the body spray out of that shirt.”
I nodded. The kid did like his spray. “So, about this whole threatening-letter business—”
“I’ll be right back,” Freddie suddenly said, walking away. “Restroom break.”
Well, that had been abrupt. But if I wasn’t mistaken, Freddie had been looking down at Stanley right before he walked away. The dog had already fallen asleep on the floor. Judging by the drool puddling on the tile, he was really tired. This whole dog thing was obviously more traumatizing than I’d thought. I really needed to find a way to cheer Freddie up. And even though it wasn’t my business—actually, it was totally my business, we were best friends—I couldn’t help but think that if Freddie could just open his heart up a little bit, Stanley would be really good for him. Maybe help him heal some old wounds. The only problem was, I couldn’t even get him to talk about Daisy and what had happened to h—
Just then I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Erica, thank goodness I was able to get you alone.”
Well, that wasn’t a promising start to a conversation.
I turned to see Mrs. Watson, president of the historical society. People sometimes referred to her as the dragon because even though she came off as a very sweet, community-minded, God-fearing woman—and for the most part, she totally was—she wouldn’t hesitate to take you down with a well-placed word if you crossed her.
She looked awesome tonight. Her pixie-cut white hair and red-rimmed glasses set off the crimson Nehru jacket she was sporting. Sure, it wasn’t exactly flapper gear, but the embroidery on the satin made me wonder if it was a legit piece from the period.
“Hi, Mrs. Watson,” I said with a smile. “Happy New Year. Is there something—”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Yes, your mother was hoping to have a word with you, and only you, in the other room.”
This conversation was becoming more alarming by the second.
“My mother?” I said it like I had never heard of the woman before—which was strange. I mean, I knew she was coming to the party. But what I didn’t know was why she would want to have a word with me. Alone. Or why she’d send Mrs. Watson and not just come herself. I sidestepped out of the way of a group of newly arrived guests. I didn’t recognize them. Must be Matthew’s friends from New York. A shuttle bus was apparently bringing people back and forth from a resort in the White Mountains. “Is something wrong?”
“I certainly don’t think so. Not yet at least.”
I cocked my head. That wasn’t exactly the reassurance I was hoping for.
“Follow me. She’s in the old smoking room getting ready.”
“Getting ready? Getting ready for what?”
“It’s nothing really,” she said, patting my arm. “Better if you see for yourself.”
I scooped up Stanley and followed Mrs. Watson through the early crowd of party-goers. I nodded at a few people I knew as we came to a set of sliding pocket doors which she opened just a foot or so. “I’ll close this after you. We don’t want to spoil the surprise for everyone.”
“What surprise?” I asked, still repeating everything she said in the form of a question.
“Your mother will explain everything.”
“Oh, okay.” I didn’t move though. It had just occurred to me that Mrs. Watson might be the best person to ask about all the rumors floating around town. She had hired us after all. Maybe I could get a little further than Freddie had to the truth about why. “Uh, before I go in,” to see God knows what behind door number one, “I wanted to ask you…”
Mrs. Watson raised an eyebrow.
“You haven’t…” I stopped a moment, choosing my words. “This may sound a little crazy, but seeing as Freddie and I are keeping an eye on things tonight, I thought I’d ask you about some strange rumors we heard around town?”
“What kind of strange rumors?”
“Well, you haven’t heard anything about a threatening letter?”
“Oh dear, that wasn’t supposed to get out,” Mrs. Watson said, shaking her head. “You see, I know about it because my nephew, Amos, works at the sheriff’s department. Did you know Amos worked there?”
Of course I knew. Everyone knew. Mrs. Watson was very proud of her nephew. And Amos was very sweet, but … well, let’s just leave it at Amos was very sweet.
“He told me about the letters because he thought we might want to be a little more vigilant at the party tonight, but we weren’t supposed to spread it around town.” She leaned in close and whispered, “But I’m glad you know. And it’s been more than just one letter. There’s actually been quite a few.”
I frowned. “Exactly what kind of letters are we talking about?”
“Well, I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say somebody wants Candace to leave town,” she whispered, “or else.”
“Candace!”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “I probably shouldn’t have let that slip either. And it’s not about Candace. It’s about MRG.”
MRG was the company responsible for turning Otter Lake’s small quaint cottages into luxury summer homes. Not everybody was happy with all the changes, but pretty much everyone liked Candace. My ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend was very likable. Like baby bunny likable. It took a lot of work not liking her … not that I’d know anything about that. I’d moved on.
“Grady’s been working round the clock to find out who’s been sending the letters, but no luck so far,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s so protective.” Her eyes widened a touch. “I’m sorry. Was that awkward of me to say?”
“Not at all,” I said. Although Stanley was groaning again. I relaxed my grip. “But … you don’t have any reason to believe that something will happen tonight?”
“Oh no. In fact, Amos tells me these poison-pen types are usually all bark and no bite.”
I nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s something.”
“And I’m sure Grady won’t be taking his eyes off of Candace, so you don’t have to worry,” she said. “But if you do see something strange…”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Mrs. Watson patted my arm. “Now you go see your mother before Freddie sees you.”
I blinked. “Before Freddie sees me? What?”
But Mrs. Watson had already turned to leave.
Well, this night was becoming more complicated by the second.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the cozy lamp-lit room to find my mother sitting at a round wooden table. An array of what I could only assume were props lay spread out in front of her.
“Erica!” my mother said, jangling her braceleted arms into the air. “What do you think?”
I had so many questions to choose from, but I decided to go with, “Mom, why are you wearing a turban?”