Since I only had three days to find the book, I didn’t waste any time. On Monday morning, I called one of my backup assistants and told him I needed him to cover the shop for me, even though I was technically still going to be in the village.
Charles Hancock stepped into Charming Books twenty minutes after I’d called him. He was an eighty-something gentleman, who had an irrepressible crush on Grandma Daisy and also was just a tad eccentric. He called himself a knight, and just like Don Quixote, it seemed that he really believed it. Instead of going on quests with Sancho Panza, his knightly energy was put into admiring my grandmother.
I met him at the door. His bald head was bare. The only nod to winter in his attire was a wool coat over his 1950s business suit.
“Charles, where is your hat?” I asked as soon as he walked into the shop.
He wagged a crooked finger at me. “Don’t you mother me, Violet Waverly. When I get a call that my beloved Daisy is in need of my help, I rush to her side. I had no time to find a hat. What kind of knight would I be if I cared about my own creature comforts above hers?”
I winced. I may have implied that Grandma Daisy wanted him to work in the shop that day so I could go snoop. I told myself that it was the only way I could get him to come to the shop.
“Where is Daisy?” He looked around the shop.
“You know that she’s working on the village hall restoration project. That’s why we need your help to watch the shop today.”
He gave a solemn nod. “Oh, yes, she works so very hard. As much as it pains me that her work keeps the two of us apart, I know that she has her own responsibilities to this village. I may be a knight, but I’m a modern one at that. I know Daisy is a great leader, and her subjects need her.”
“I’m sure she appreciates that,” I said as I put on my coat.
“Do not worry. I will take good care of the shop while the two of you are away. You can rest assured.”
On that note, I left the shop and walked to the river. I thought I might get some inspiration as to where to turn next if I went back to the place where we’d found the body.
There was a melted patch in the snow where the tent for my wedding reception had been. My heart sank a little when I saw it. The wedding had not gone as planned, but neither had the honeymoon. I’d agreed to leave with Rainwater for Vermont in three days, even if we didn’t find the book before then, because I knew my husband was as disappointed as I was by the way things were turning out.
There wasn’t even any crime scene tape there where Roma had been found, more proof that the police, including Rainwater, thought it was an accidental death. I wasn’t so sure. I looked around the street at the village hall where my grandmother used to work as mayor until the foundation crumbled some months ago.
No one went in there now because the building was unstable. Once a majestic building, it was now surrounded by cones and hazard tape. Grandma Daisy insisted its condition was temporary.
The village hall had once been a stopping point on the Underground Railroad, and when my grandmother was elected mayor, she’d made it her mission to recognize that history of Cascade Springs. Grandma Daisy raised hundreds of thousands of dollars to put a new Underground Railroad museum in the least used massive building outside of the handful of village offices housed there. During the project, foundation cracks came to light, which led to the excavation. My grandmother had to raise even more money to restore the building and save it from collapsing. Unfortunately, those measures weren’t quite enough. Not with the aquifer waters seeping into those cracks and eroding the foundation at such an accelerated rate. The building collapsed under its own weight on the weakened foundation, and now it sat in a sad heap at the top of the hill overlooking the Niagara River. Thankfully, though, due to the excavation and my grandmother’s efforts, no one was harmed. I shuddered to think what might have happened if the grand old building’s flaws had gone unnoticed. Many people could’ve been injured, and the collapse could’ve been far more damaging.
Even with the building in ruins, Grandma Daisy was not discouraged. She immediately started planning a fundraiser to restore the building over that last few months that rivaled a presidential campaign. To date, she has raised over one million dollars. The civil engineers working on the project said it would take at least one million more just to make the building safe for use again.
The cost would daunt most people, but not my grandmother. She believed in the history of Cascade Springs and was doing everything she could to preserve it. Because of that, I hadn’t seen her much these last few months. Just last month, she was in New York City for five days speaking to millionaires and nonprofits to raise money. No one in Cascade Springs doubted her success.
Next to village hall was Le Crepe Jolie. Even in the snow, it looked like a café right out of a French magazine. The few tables that were usually outside had been put away for the winter, but the gilded window frames, pinstriped awning, and antique door still stood out brightly.
I hadn’t found anything new at the crime scene, but that didn’t mean I didn’t deserve a breakfast crepe.
As I stepped into Le Crepe Jolie, the enveloping aromas of fresh bread, fennel, and berries filled my nostrils. The inside of the café was warm, both from the furnace and the ovens going full blast in the kitchen. I quickly shed my winter coat, hat, and gloves.
“Violet,” Lacey cried. The silver barrettes that she always wore were slipping out of her smooth hair. “Adrien and I have been so worried about you since the wedding. What a terrible way to start your life with the police chief. Can I get you anything? Crepe? Coffee? Lemon madeleines?”
“All of those sound good.”
She snapped her fingers. “Coming right up. You came at a good time. Most of the breakfast rush is gone. I can sit with you for a minute or two as long as it stays slow in here. Your favorite table by the front window is open.” She went through the swinging door by the kitchen.
I sat at the table she indicated and looked out the window. I had a perfect view of where the wedding reception tent had been and where Roma had died.
Lacey came out of the kitchen a moment later with a small tray, holding two glass mugs of coffee, some cream and sugar, and a plate of Le Crepe Jolie’s lemon madeleines. The pillowy cookies were Grandma Daisy’s absolute favorite treat.
“I’ll pack up a little box for you to take to Daisy,” Lacey said as she arranged everything on the table. “Danielle will bring out your crepe just as soon as Adrien finishes making it. We made it with mushroom and Swiss cheese—your favorite.”
I wrapped my cold hands around the coffee mug to warm my palms and fingertips. “You are all too good to me.”
“Don’t be silly. We treat you just how you treat anyone who walks into Charming Books.”
I wished that were true, but I would never be as naturally kindhearted as Lacey. When we were kids, she’d had a tough time in high school. She was bullied and belittled, but she kept a smile on her face through it all. I was sure she’d go home some days after school and cry herself to sleep, but she never showed how hurt she was. I still kicked myself all these years later that I didn’t defend her more when I had had the chance.
She sipped her coffee. “Officer Wheaton came into the café for a latte this morning. He said that the woman’s death was ruled an accident and that the case was closed. I thought, with that news, you and Chief Rainwater would be off to your honeymoon this morning.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying what I really thought of Officer Wheaton spreading that news throughout the village. If he’d said it at the café, everyone would know it by the end of the day.
“David still has some work to do on it. We will leave for the honeymoon as soon as we can.”
She beamed at me. “I’m so glad. I remember my honeymoon with Adrien. It was the most magical time. It gave us a chance to get away from it all. When you own a café, that is rare.” She sighed. “Maybe someday we can take time off to go again. Danielle could easily fill in for me, but who would cook? Adrien is such an exacting chef. He would not want anyone sending out subpar food from his kitchen.”
“Here’s your crepe, sister,” Danielle said as she set it in front of me. “I can call you that, right?”
Danielle Cloud was as beautiful as her brother was handsome. She had jet black hair that hung down her back, and today it was plaited in a long braid. She had the clearest skin I had ever seen and the same sparkling eyes as her brother, although hers were a deep brown that bordered on jet black.
“You most certainly can.” I smiled at her. “I know David and I have a few more things to get out of the house and move to Charming Books. I hope it’s not crowding you out too much.”
She waved away my concern. “The little house feels massive now that David has moved out. Aster and I walk around in awe at all the space we have. Please don’t feel rushed.”
I smiled. “Thanks. We just haven’t had time to really decide where everything is going to go in our apartment.”
She smiled. “I can imagine. Anytime Aster and I have moved, it’s been such a chore. It’s nice to finally feel like we have a home.” She looked over her shoulder. “I had better get back to the kitchen. Adrien wants to come out and say hello, but someone needs to watch the leek soup like a hawk. It’s today’s lunch special.” She went back to the kitchen.
I cut into my crepe and the melted Swiss cheese oozed out. A cloud of steam hit my face. It felt better than the facial Sadie had made me get before the wedding.
“I can completely understand having trouble finding a place for everything when you combine homes,” Lacey said. “In our case, it’s hard to find places for all the food and supplies for the café. It’s not a big building. We store things everywhere. We have three deep freezers in the basement and another at our house in the garage. Anywhere we can put a freezer, we do it.”
The mention of the café’s basement caught my attention. Le Crepe Jolie was next door to the village hall that had collapsed. Was Lacey’s basement and her entire café in danger of that happening too?
I asked her as much.
“It’s funny you mention that because I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately too. I even had a basement expert come out, but he said not to worry because the basement was bone dry. The foundation is sound too. He didn’t find any evidence of water under the building.”
“Does that seem odd to you?” I asked.
“It does.” She picked up a lemon madeleine from plate and set it on a napkin in front of her. “I mean, the village hall was right next door and on a hill. The entire basement filled with water when the building collapsed, but we have nothing. The basement guy said it was strange but didn’t seem too overly concerned. He said there are pockets of spring water from the aquifer all over the village, but until there is an in-depth study of the entire town, it’s hard to pinpoint where the water will show up. He said it was something he could do.”
“Don’t tell Grandma Daisy about him because she would want to do it. The village budget is already stretched too thin this year for a ground study.”
Adrien stepped out of the kitchen. He had on a blue apron over his white T-shirt and black jeans. “Violet, I’m glad you’re here. How is the crepe?”
I looked down at my plate that was two-thirds empty. I hadn’t even realized I’d eaten that much. “It’s amazing, as always.”
“I’m glad.” His French-Canadian accent seemed more pronounced today. He sat at the table next to Lacey.
I raised my brow. There were still customers in the café. It was unheard of for Adrien to do more than come out and say a quick hello when he was cooking. His craft was all encompassing.
Lacey rubbed her husband’s shoulder. “Adrien, Violet is our friend. We can trust her.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Adrien pressed his lips together, and Lacey continued to rub her husband’s shoulder.
“You guys are scaring me,” I said finally, after a long moment of silence.
Adrien patted Lacey’s hand on his shoulder. “I had a visitor this morning, and she said that she spoke to you.”
“Who was it?”
“Imogene,” Adrien said in a clipped voice.
My mouth fell over. “You know Imogene Thoreau?”
“I know Imogene, but her last name wasn’t Thoreau when I first met her. It was Thorne.”
I raised my brow. That was her son’s last name. Hadn’t she said that that was her son’s father’s surname?
As if he could read my mind, Adrien said, “Her maiden name was Harter. She married and changed it to Thorne. When she got divorced, she changed it to Thoreau.”
“Is Imogene a regular here?” I asked. I had never seen her at the café before, and I ate here almost every day. But I wasn’t here every second of every day. I could have missed her.
Adrien shook his head. “It was the first time. She’d learned that we were friends, and she wanted me to try to convince you to give her book back to her.”
“I told her I don’t have the book.”
He nodded. “That’s what she said. So, I told her that if that’s what you said, it must be true. I have never known you to lie. She didn’t believe me and stormed off.”
“I don’t know how she thought she could convince you to tell me anything if you didn’t know her.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t know her. I don’t know her well, but that doesn’t change the fact that Imogene is my aunt.”
I stared at him. “Come again?”
He relaxed, but it did little to hide his chiseled muscles under the shirt. He might want to think about getting a larger size. It didn’t look like a comfortable fit. “She’s my aunt on my mother’s side.”
“I thought you were French Canadian.”
“I am, but my mother was American. She moved to Quebec when she was twenty. She was a French major in college and went to Quebec for a study abroad program. She fell in love with the place and never came back to the States. When she left, her American family thought she was turning her back on them. Maybe she was, in a way. She and Imogene were never close, but I don’t know why. I think the Thoreau story was part of it. I can’t ask my mother now, though, because she passed away ten years ago.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry.” As I said this, I wondered what else I didn’t know about Adrien.
“After my mother died, I was ready to leave Quebec and see where she was from. It was this village. The moment I set foot in Cascade Springs, I felt connected to it. Have you ever visited a place before and known it’s where you belong?”
I had. Even though I would have denied it at the time, when I came back to Cascade Springs from Chicago, I think a large part of me knew that I would never live in the Windy City again.
He gazed at his wife. “I met Lacey, and the rest is history. I never thought of going back to Canada other than to visit.”
“He may have found out about the village because of Imogene, but he stayed for me.” Lacey said. “It was the most romantic thing he could have done, which is saying a lot because Adrien is one of the most softhearted and generous men a person could ever meet.”
“I knew Imogene and her son still lived in the village, but I didn’t reach out. I felt like I’d be betraying my mother somehow. Instead, I turned all my attention to the café. And once I met Lacey, all my attention went to her. Although, after Lacey and I got married, I did run into my cousin.”
“Edmund?” I asked.
Adrien nodded. “You’ve met him?”
“No, but Imogene mentioned him yesterday.”
“Edmund and I are friendly, but we’re not buddy-buddy. He stops in here for lunch when he’s working for the village.”
“Edmund works for the village?” I asked.
“On and off. He’s a freelance civil engineer. I think he’s working with Daisy now, trying to decide what needs to be done to save what’s left of the village hall.”
I blinked at him. “Does Grandma Daisy know that you’re cousins?”
“I don’t see how she would know that. I never told her, and I can’t think of a reason why Edmund would bring it up.” He shrugged. “I have been wrong in the past though.”
“So you have an aunt and a cousin who live in this tiny village, and you never see them?
“I have no reason to unless they stop by the café. You’d be surprised how many people have blood relatives walking the earth who they never speak to. Sometimes it’s because of a falling out, or sometimes due to a sheer lack of effort. In my case, Imogene was furious with my mother because my mom wouldn’t support Imogene’s claim about Thoreau.”
“Your mother didn’t believe the story about Thoreau?”
He folded his hands on the table. “She’d heard the same stories that Imogene had, but she always said that there was no way to prove it. She just thought they were nice stories.”
“Have you ever asked Edmund what he thought?”
Adrien shook his head. “No. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up an old feud between our mothers. We’ve never discussed it.”
Lacey placed a hand over Adrien’s folded hands. He smiled lovingly at her.
“Did you know Roma?” I asked.
“Who’s that?”
I looked around the café and was happy to see that no one seemed to be paying any attention to our conversation. Even so, I lowered my voice. “She was the woman found dead by the river on Saturday evening.”
“Oh, I never knew her name.”
“I don’t know if she was a friend or just someone your aunt knew, but Imogene came to my shop because of Roma. Roma had tried to sell me Imogene’s Walden, but I didn’t buy it.”
“No wonder Imogene was furious when she asked me about you. That book is her whole world.” He sighed and stood up. “I’m sorry to hear about Roma and even sorrier that she is connected to Imogene. I might have no relationship with my aunt, but I still wouldn’t want her to be in any kind of trouble.”
“You’re a kind man,” Lacey said and smiled at her husband.
He squeezed his wife’s fingers. “I should get back to the kitchen. I just wanted to warn you. Imogene is a loose cannon, so keep your eyes open.”
Great.
“Adrien, before you go,” I said, “I have one last question.”
He stood just beside our table.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything about this to me? I did my dissertation on Thoreau. I certainly would have been interested if you’d had some sort of connection to such a famous author.”
“You did?” Adrien asked. He clearly had no idea what I’d earned my PhD in, just like I’d had no idea that his mother had died a decade ago. I realized that that was likely for a good reason. I couldn’t recall a single conversation over the past two years that I’d had with Adrien about my scholarship. Typically, we talked about food and recipes. Well, he talked about his recipes, and I ate his food.
I shook my head. “Never mind. Thanks for letting me know about Imogene.”
He nodded. “Remember to watch your back while you look into this. I don’t believe for a second that you won’t investigate. Lacey and I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re more like family to us than any of my blood relatives are.”
“I’ll be careful,” I said.
“Be sure that you are.”
His words felt like a warning.