With only a week until the Hair Ball, the Here and Meow meetings were now held weekly instead of every two weeks. With yesterday marking a week since Chloe had disappeared, Kim thought it in bad taste to hold the meeting on Thursday.
So now it was 5:45 on a Friday night and Amber was sitting in her rental car in the parking lot of Purrcolate, wondering if she could claim she’d come down with a horrible case of the flu in order to get out of this. She might have tried had Kim not completely turned into the gala-host equivalent of Bridezilla in the last few days. Between the stress of throwing the town’s biggest event next to the Here and Meow, worrying she was going to screw up and disappoint the late Melanie Cole, and dreading the news about Chloe, Kim had become increasingly … difficult. Amber had heard that the unflappable Ann Marie had been reduced to tears yesterday when Kim went on a long rant about why Ann Marie was the largest disappointment in Kim’s life. Ann Marie, apparently, had picked up the tablecloths for the gala yesterday, but when she placed the order had accidentally ordered robin’s egg blue instead of eggshell white and Kim had nearly had a heart attack in the middle of the community center when Ann Marie unloaded the first few.
Amber had heard all this from Nathan, who had called Amber last night to warn her that Kim was “on the warpath” and to be ready for “possible tears and screaming” at today’s meeting. This, plus the very high probability that she’d see Jack Terrence, had made Amber consider packing up and moving to a remote village somewhere.
Instead, she told herself she was strong and fierce and she could get through this. She had a car now, at least, so if this all went really badly, she could drive to Cat’s Creamery and buy sixteen gallons of chocolate ice cream to drown her sorrows in.
She climbed out of her car and then marched across the parking lot with confidence. The familiar scent of baking scones washed over her as she pulled open the door.
And all her confidence deflated the moment Jack looked up at her and smiled. No recognition beyond Amber being a customer he liked and wanted to possibly go out with sometime. No memory of the few dates they’d already been on. No memory of the terrifying night on Edgar’s property when Amber had almost died.
“Hey, Amber,” he said. “Long time, no see.”
She wanted to run out of here and never come back. “Hey, Jack,” she managed.
Larry stood behind the counter as well, where he’d been restocking the pastry case. He continued to do so, but a slight scowl marred his forehead. Amber could only see half of his face and the way his eyes darted from Amber, to Jack, and back again, his head never moving.
“Can I get you anything besides the usual spread of blueberry scones in there?” Jack asked. “I have a new lemon seed scone I debuted at the junior fashion show. Have you had a chance to try one of those yet?”
She bit her bottom lip. He didn’t remember that she’d helped him unload those new scones, because he’d seen the real her and decided he couldn’t handle it. “Blueberry is fine,” she said, voice cracking. “Thank you.”
Then she hurried toward the mottled glass door that led to the conference room reserved for the Here and Meow Committee on evenings like this one. She willed her tears away.
“What’d I say?” she heard Jack ask.
“I don’t have the first clue,” Larry muttered.
Inside the conference room, the vibe wasn’t much better. Amber was right on time, but Ann Marie, Nathan, and Francine were already seated across from Kim, their hands folded in their laps. Francine sat farthest from Amber and craned her neck to look over the heads of both Ann Marie and Nathan so she could offer Amber a small smile. A “thank you for helping me get this position but also why didn’t you warn me that Kimberly Jones had gone off the deep end?” kind of smile.
No one spoke. Kim had her elbows on the table, and was massaging her temples in wide, slow circles. From what Amber could see of her friend, she wore a bright orange silk blouse and a black-and-white striped vest over it—like a pirate.
Kim suddenly let an arm fall with a thud and glared at Amber. “I’m so glad you could finally join us. Why don’t you take a seat so we can get started, hmm?”
Amber winced and slunk into the chair beside Nathan, leaving Kim on the opposite side by herself. Nathan whispered “warpath” out the side of his mouth.
“Something you want to share with the class, Nathan?” Kim asked.
“Kimberly …” Ann Marie started.
“I need you not to talk right now,” Kim said, cutting her off. “I’ve been on the phone all day trying to sort out the tablecloth debacle.”
Ann Marie swallowed whatever she’d been about to say.
Kim huffed out a breath and opened the manila folder she had lying by her arm, pulling out a meeting agenda checklist. “Because we’re obviously understaffed at the moment, there is going to be a lot we need to do in the next week. I’ve taken a week off work to make sure we can get it all done.”
“Kim, we’ve all offered to take time off,” Amber said. “You know I gave Lily and Daisy more hours this week specifically so I could help you more, but you haven’t given me much to do.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Kim snapped, voice dripping with venom, “the chief has been keeping you plenty busy.” She punctuated that with a little smile that implied she’d just eaten something exceedingly sour.
So help her, Amber would need to throttle this woman soon.
“Now, if you’re all finished interrupting me …”
After half an hour, and Kim’s tenth snippy comment, Amber had had enough. She leaned forward, catching the wide-eyed attention of Nathan, Ann Marie, and Francine. “Why don’t you three take a little break?”
They shoved away from the table so fast, Nathan’s chair hit the wall behind him.
Kim jumped to her feet. “Oh. My. God. Amber, you do not have the authority to assign breaks. If we let anarchy rule us, this entire gala will be a disaster and we’ll be a laughingstock.”
Nathan, Ann Marie, and Francine scurried for the door. Ann Marie had her hands on Nathan’s back and was shoving him forward, whisper-hissing, “Go, go, go!” Francine was close behind her.
Kim started for the door as well, her face red and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Amber darted in front of the door just as it closed after Francine. To go with her orange shirt and striped vest, Kim also wore brown pinstripe pants and lime green flats. At least these ones matched each other, Amber supposed.
Kim came up short, chest heaving. Amber was genuinely worried her friend might slap her.
“Kim,” Amber said softly, her hands out. “You need to—”
“You don’t tell me what I need to do!” Kim snapped. “I’m out there working my butt off to make sure this gala runs smoothly, and when I could really use your help, you’re too busy fraternizing with the chief of police!”
Amber groaned, tipping her head back. When she looked at Kim again, somehow Kim’s face was even redder. “You can’t seriously still be hung up on that, Kim! I’m not involved with the chief in any way other than trying to help find Chloe.”
“Why? You’re not a police officer,” Kim said, crossing her arms tight over her chest.
Amber shot a quick look behind her, as if she expected to see Ann Marie, Francine, and Nathan—and maybe even Jack and Larry—with their heads poked into the room, waiting for her answer. Taking Kim by the upper arm, she dragged her to the other side of the conference room.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Kim muttered, but she let herself be pulled along.
“Okay, so this is a little embarrassing,” Amber said, once she unhanded her, “but I’ve been snooping around a lot in all the free time I’ve had—” she shot Kim a pointed look—“and I caught the attention of a PI in town who’s investigating Chloe’s disappearance.”
Kim’s eyes doubled in diameter. “Caught his attention how? Who hired him—the mayor?”
“Not the mayor,” Amber said. “He won’t tell me who his client is. And I was … oh gosh … I was following him around town trying to figure out who his client could be, and while I was on my first stakeout, I was distracted and he just … got into my car and asked why I was following him.”
With a dramatic gasp, Kim gently swatted at Amber’s arm. “Shut. Up. Was he mad?”
“He was mostly annoyed that I was tailing him when I’m bad at it,” she said. “He used the word ‘terrible’ more than once.”
“Rude! It was your first stakeout!”
“That’s what I said.” Amber lowered her voice. “He says I’ve got good instincts though, and I figured out a couple of things even before he did, so we’re kind of allies now? The chief actually doesn’t know that part.”
“What kind of things?”
Amber bit her lip, not sure how much to divulge to Kim. “You have to keep this to yourself, okay?” Kim nodded her head so hard, Amber worried it would snap off and roll under the conference room table. “Someone kidnapped Chloe as a way to seek revenge on the mayor.”
“Kidnapped? Revenge?” Kim loudly blurted, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
Amber shushed her. “We have reason to believe she’s okay, but we don’t know where she is. So if I’ve seemed distracted or unavailable this past week, it’s because of all this other stuff. I’m trying to help find Chloe.”
Kim’s bottom lip shook violently and then she launched herself at Amber, throwing her arms around her neck. She dissolved into sobs. “Oh my God, Amber. I’m so sorry I’ve been such a witch!”
Amber sputtered a laugh, but quickly swallowed it down.
“I’ve been so, so worried about Chloe.” She pulled away from Amber, keeping her hands on Amber’s elbows. Her face was a splotchy mess, her eyes red. “She’s really okay?”
“We’re pretty sure, yeah.”
Tears streamed down Kim’s face. “I’m the reason she snuck out,” she blubbered.
“Kim, hon, what are you talking about? She snuck out well after all of us left that night.”
It took a few moments for Kim to get herself under control. “A week before, we all met for ice cream after the meeting, remember? Oh, wait, I don’t think you could make it that night. Anyway, she was on that stinking phone of hers instead of interacting with the group,” she said, sniffling. “So I pulled her aside and asked her if she was okay and who she was so busy texting. She told me she was talking to this guy from Belhaven she had a huge crush on. She said he wanted to meet her, but she was too scared because she was worried he wouldn’t like her in person as much as he did on the app. I told her she was amazing and beautiful and to follow her heart. I told her … I told her when you find someone who you really care about, you have to just go for it no … no matter what.” Kim burst into tears again.
Amber let her friend cry on her shoulder for a while. Nathan, Francine, and Ann Marie poked their heads in at one point, heard Kim wail, and then quickly backed out of the room.
When Kim finally pulled herself together, Amber asked, in a very serious and solemn tone, “Did you kidnap Chloe?”
Kim was so surprised by the question that it dried up the rest of her tears. “Of course not!”
“Then it’s not your fault, okay? It’s not your fault that Melanie died, either,” Amber said. “You’re stressed out and you’re taking on too much. You’ve been so worried about things going sideways that you’ve shut us all out. You need to let us help you. I promise you that we all want this gala to go off without a hitch as much as you do.”
“Okay.” Kim sniffed. “I think some part of me thought if I did it all myself, I knew it would get done right. I think I might have actually told Ann Marie robin’s egg blue instead of eggshell white! But I was so mad at myself for possibly getting it wrong that I took it out on her. Oh, I’m the worst.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just tired,” Amber said. “Now, I need you to come up with a list of things you want us to do. If this tablecloth thing is truly a disaster, send one of us to the nearest town that has what you need.”
Kim’s chin wobbled a bit. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know.” Amber grabbed some napkins off the table and handed them to Kim so she could blow her nose. “Also … what in the world are you wearing?”
Glancing down at herself, it was as if Kim suddenly came out of a daze. “Oh my God, Amber! I look like a circus clown!”
“It’s … it’s not the best look.”
Instead of bursting into tears, Kim erupted in giggles. This sound pulled Ann Marie, Francine, and Nathan back into the room.
“Is it safe?” Nathan asked.
“Oh my God, you guys!” Kim said, running to them with her arms out and enclosing them all in a hug. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a b-word! Francine, bless your heart for not quitting on me. I’m not normally like this. I promise.”
“She’s really not,” Ann Marie said from somewhere within the group hug.
Kim laughed. “I have so much work for you all to do!”
“It’s about dang time,” Nathan said.
With the gala being a week away, the businesses selected to compete for the Best of Edgehill competition had to submit what their entries into the contest would be in order for menus and banners to be made on time.
This morning, Amber and Ann Marie had divided the list, getting six each, and had to speak to each business owner to confirm the final entry and sample numbers and to take pictures. Amber had been given the first half of the list, largely because Purrfectly Scrumptious was across the street, but also because Ann Marie was so grateful that Amber had snapped Kim out of her Galazilla mode, that she thought it only fair that Amber get all the food-related ones today, plus a pair of clothing shops. The businesses Ann Marie was checking in with were harder to quantify and would rely more on displays, video presentations, photographs, and performances. Ann Marie’s would take her most of the day.
Amber would have thought this was a perfect arrangement, had it not been for the fact that Purrcolate was on her list twice. Which meant she’d end up staying there twice as long as she would anywhere else. She wasn’t sure which Terrence brother she dreaded seeing more: the rightfully suspicious Larry or the clueless Jack.
She stopped by Purrfectly Scrumptious first. Betty’s entry into “Best of” would be three flavors of cupcakes: Chocolate Chocolate Surprise, Raspberry Rhapsody, and, of course, Oreo Dream. For samples, she was making bite-size cupcakes of each flavor. With 100 confirmed attendees, she would make 650 total mini cupcakes, so each person could have a second if they wished, plus a few extras in case any were damaged in transit. Amber was certain there wouldn’t be a single one left by the end of the gala, damaged or not.
After Amber had taken her notes and pictures of the three full-size cupcakes Betty had displayed specifically for this meeting, Amber started to pack up her things.
Betty wrung her hands. “I know you can’t tell me anything about what the others are presenting, but do you really think I have a shot?”
“Absolutely,” Amber said. “And not just because you’re my friend.”
She exhaled deeply. “Thanks, sugar. Well, I better let you go finish your rounds. I need to figure out the best baking schedule for 650 cupcakes!”
Next, Amber hit the two pizza places. One was best known for its calzone, while the other had a to-die-for deep dish pizza. As Betty had done, there was a full-size available for Amber to sample, take notes about, and photograph. For the gala, there were mini calzones on the menu, as well as a small side salad topped with the restaurant’s signature Italian dressing. The other would offer small slices of their pizza and breadsticks. Each restaurant would be serving vegetarian, cheese, pepperoni, and chicken and pesto options. The attendees would vote on which restaurant did each flavor best.
There were salads, quinoa bowls, and plant burgers at the Milk Bowl and Holly’s Harvest; elaborate burgers and sweet potato fries from Mews and Brews; and decadent sandwiches from Catty Melt, the bread toasted a golden brown and topped with a thin layer of melted cheese.
For her one nonfood-related business category, Amber swung by Angora Threads to see three upscale dresses made by both Letty Rodriguez and her son, Diego. Their competition, the Shabby Tabby, made more ready-to-wear items—everything from pants to sweaters. Amber left with a vintage-looking dress from Angora that was covered in black smiling cat faces and had a thick band of black that marked off the empire waistline, and from Shabby Tabby, she left with a jumper made of a dark blue material with wide pockets in the shorts. An intricately designed cat adorned one of the pockets, stitched with white and gray thread. The cat was perched above the pocket, its nose focused on what might lay inside, its striped tail arched over its back like a miniature cane. For the gala, models would give the attendees a mini fashion show. The Shabby Tabby owner made sure to let Amber know that they would have an array of models of all body types to help show how widely accessible their clothes were.
Next came the horrible Paulette at Clawsome Coffee, who sneered at Amber the moment she walked in, though she tried to hide it. The last time Amber had seen Paulette, the older woman had disparaged the late Melanie Cole for awarding the Terrence brothers the opportunity to offer after-race treats to the 5k runners the morning of the Here and Meow—and Paulette had done so with so much venom, Amber had stormed out of the coffee shop without her order. She hadn’t been back since.
Amber and Paulette kept their exchange icy but professional. Amber felt a sense of smug satisfaction that Paulette clearly wanted to wag her tongue about whatever slight she thought had befallen her now, but had to keep her mouth shut if she didn’t want to ruin her chances at winning the “Best of” designation for coffee. Amber knew that if Paulette lost to Purrcolate or Coffee Cat, she was even more likely to suffer a coronary than Chief Brown was over Amber’s interview tactics. Paulette almost assuredly would blame Amber for her loss—as if Amber had any say in who won. But if thinking Amber held any kind of authority when it came to assigning a winner made Paulette keep her nasty comments to herself, Amber wouldn’t correct her.
Coffee Cat would be offering their toasted marshmallow mocha, white chocolate toffee nut latte, and gingerbread latte as their three samples. Samples for guests would come in small shot glasses adorned with the café’s logo, which guests could take home with them.
During her discussion with the café’s owner, Amber had tried the gingerbread latte and it had been so good, her knees had nearly buckled.
As she left, she smiled to herself, knowing Paulette had little chance of winning this year.
Which left Purrcolate as her last scheduled visit for the day. Her reasoning had been that if this went horribly awry, she could drive straight home rather than having the bad experience distract her during her other meetings. Armed with her clipboard and the knowledge that she’d faced down Paulette “the She-Demon” Newsom without losing her cool, she marched into Purrcolate for the second time in two days.
When she walked in, Jack was behind the counter as usual, and grinned at her. “Hey.”
She approached the counter with all the bravado of a turtle scared into its shell. “Hey,” she said, glancing around for Larry. Then she spotted him on the other side of the café, chatting with a couple sitting at one of the tables.
“I’m just about ready,” Jack said, redirecting her attention. “I was thinking it might be best to do this in the back room?”
Amber swallowed. “Sure. Whatever’s most convenient.”
Within a couple of minutes, he had ushered her around the counter—in the opposite direction of the conference room—and had lifted the flap in the counter’s surface to let her behind it with him. He guided her past a pastry display case on one side, and the coffee and espresso machines on the other, and then toward the swinging black door in the back wall. He pushed it open with his back, smiling at her as he did so, and the ever-present smell of baking scones enveloped her.
She followed him into the kitchen; she’d never been back here before. Against the right wall was a large sink that was flanked on either side by shelving. The rolling cart on the right had large glass containers of what looked like flour and sugar, and clear plastic bins filled with a variety of mixing bowls. Above that were three large mixers lined up in a neat row. Various baking utensils and knives hung on the wall above the mixers. The set of shelves on the other side of the sink was packed tight with colorful rows of plastic bins, bottles, and jars of ingredients.
The wall to the left was taken up by the ovens, currently baking scones and other pastries to golden perfection. Beside the ovens was a tall shelving unit, the racks lined with cooling treats.
All the equipment and furniture were made of stainless steel, except for the massive wooden table in the middle of the room, the underside of which had large tubs of more dry ingredients in them. Two people in white aprons were busy working at the table. A woman was using a giant stainless steel mixer, while a man rolled out dough on the flour-covered surface of the table. Knives, spatulas, mixing bowls, and a dish of chocolate chips littered the work surface. At the end of the table was a plastic cover positioned on top of what Amber assumed was a plate.
“Hey, you two, can you give us a few minutes?” Jack asked.
The pair stopped what they were doing and looked up.
“Oh, for the Best of Edgehill, right?” the woman asked, wiping her hands on a towel hanging from her apron’s waist. “You got this, J.” She smiled warmly at Amber, then made her way out the swinging door.
The guy wiped his hands, too, then walked past Jack, placed both hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze and a shake. “Good luck, man.”
After the door had swung shut behind him, Jack motioned for her to follow him to the end of the table where the covered plate waited. They stood side by side before it. Amber put down her clipboard and fished a pen and her camera out of her purse.
Placing the camera on the table, she asked, “You’re submitting three scone flavors for the competition, right?”
“Yep,” Jack said. “I’ve finally settled on lemon seed, espresso chocolate chunk, and glazed gingerbread.”
Amber willed her mouth to stop salivating. After all the food and sugar she’d consumed today, she didn’t need any more. But good grief, glazed gingerbread? How was she supposed to not eat ten of those? Just as she had with the others, she wrote down the three flavors, the number of each he planned to bring with him, and what his refrigeration and plating requirements were.
When she was done, he said, “Scones, milady” and dramatically removed the cover from the plate. The lemon poppy seed and espresso chocolate chunk scones were both topped with a zigzag of white frosting, while the gingerbread scone was covered in a thin sheet of glaze. He’d garnished each one—thin curls of lemon rind for the first, a small stack of chocolate squares and espresso beans for the second, and a dash of colorful sprinkles over the third.
“This is beautiful,” she said, unable to help herself. “Is this the plating you plan to do for each guest?”
“Yep,” he said, “though the scones will be half the size.”
Amber picked up her camera and snapped as many photos as she could from as many angles as possible, worried she wasn’t doing them any justice. When she finished, she found him watching her, that familiar little smile on his face—the one from when he’d still had the “middle-school level crush” on her, when things had been full of hopeful maybes and had been far less complicated. Her bottom lip quivered a fraction, a sure sign that she would cry at any moment, and she took in a deep pull of air. “Okay, I think I have everything I need. Thank you so much for meeting with me,” she said quickly, stuffing the camera and pen back into her purse.
“Would you like to try one?” Jack asked. “I made the gingerbread one especially for you, actually. I just had a feeling it would be one you’d like.”
Goodness, she needed to get out of here. But that scone did look amazing.
They reached for it at the same time, their hands colliding over the plate of beautifully presented treats. Their fingers tangled for a moment and they froze, gazes finding each other instantly. Just as quickly, they jumped apart. Not from embarrassment, but because they’d been zapped—like from static electricity.
It sent Amber’s magic reeling and she stumbled back a step from the table. Her magic thrashed under her skin, like it always did in highly emotional moments. It instantly pulled up memories from the night at Edgar’s. The sleep spell she’d put on Jack, being chased across Edgar’s property in the dead of night by Kieran Penhallow, the cursed witch’s magic crushing Amber’s throat with an unseen hand.
Normally she only had to relive those memories in her nightmares.
“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I have to go.”
She’d only made it a few steps when Jack called out to her. “You forgot this.”
Turning, she found him holding up her clipboard stuffed with all her notes from the day. She met him halfway and took hold of the board, but Jack didn’t immediately let go. It forced her to look into his green eyes, his black brows bunched together over them. The way he looked at her was different than it had been minutes ago—that goofy hopefulness was gone and replaced by something else.
When she gave the board another tug, he relinquished his hold. “Thank you,” she muttered before she hurried out of the kitchen, along the length of the counter, ducked underneath the flap, and headed straight for the door, doing her best not to knock anyone off their feet in her haste to get out of the café.
Even after Amber made it back outside, the cool air washing over her blazing hot face, her magic didn’t calm. Being outside did, however, remind her that she hadn’t sampled any of Purrcolate’s coffee. Maybe Ann Marie could come back later in Amber’s stead; Amber couldn’t go back in there—at least not right now.
She wondered if something Jack wore—a watch or belt or even his shoes—still held onto the energy from that night. By coming in contact with her, it had released the pent-up energy he’d been unknowingly storing, waiting for someone like Amber to unleash it. There had been so much of it. It had likely just felt like a static shock to him—like scooting across a carpet in socked feet and then touching something metal. To her, it had been like a quick, sharp lightning bolt to her system. If that zap had been any more powerful, or had lasted longer than a millisecond, it would have knocked her clear off her feet.
Now her magic was energized and frenzied. Restless. Phantom fingers grazed her neck, circled it, squeezed. She anxiously rubbed a hand over the skin, mostly to assure herself that she was in this parking lot alone. Nothing was touching her.
She’d need to perform her color-changing spell on the rubber cat toy a few dozen times to dispel just a fraction of the wild, agitated magic flowing through her, and to quiet the torrent of memories that had been exhumed like a body from a grave.
But, even more than that, she needed to stay the heck away from Jack Terrence.