The next morning, I was at the shop at seven a.m. Daniel was due at seven fifteen with his friend who had a big enough truck to pull the trailer with all of us on it. That was something I hadn’t thought of, so I was glad Daniel was on top of all things mechanical. If I had been left to my own devices, we would have been pushing the float down Main Street.
By eight, we had the float attached to the trailer, and Daniel had even convinced his friend to tie a stuffed Snoopy plush to his truck like a hood ornament. The parade began at nine, and so now all we had to do was wait and eat cinnamon rolls. I could do that easily, especially when Rocky handed me a huge latte sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar crystals.
“Oh man, this is gorgeous.” I looked over. “Is that Woodstock in my foam?”
“Yep. I’ve been practicing. Peanuts-themed lattes all day. I can do Charlie Brown and Snoopy, too.” Rocky was practically beaming. “I figured it might bring people in.”
“Definitely. Now I want two more, one Charlie and one Snoopy please.” I laughed. “That’s such a good idea. Maybe you can teach me your foam tricks sometime?”
Rocky squinted at me. “A magician does not reveal her secrets.
I rolled my eyes. “So noted,” I said with a laugh. “But seriously, I do need two more, one for Mart and one for Tiffany.” I pointed toward the door at the two women who were just coming in. “Look at these,” I waved them over.
“Holy cow! That’s amazing,” Mart said.
“It is,” Tiffany added just before she took a sip. “But no foam Snoopy is keeping me from my caffeine.”
“Alright, I guess we need to go get our costumes on,” Mart said as she held up a tote. “Mind if we use the backroom?”
“Make yourselves at home. I can’t wait to see.”
Tiffany pointed from my head to my toes. “When are you going to put on your outfit?” She grinned at me.
“Fortunately, Peppermint Patty’s outfit and mine are pretty similar. I’m all set.” I looked down at my bright green T-shirt, black shorts, and sandals. “I just hope it doesn’t get much colder or I’ll need to put socks on under these puppies.” I held one foot in the air to show my Birkenstock sandal. “That won’t be pretty.”
Rocky laughed. “You’re right about that.” She grabbed a piece of poster board with sketches of Snoopy, Charlie Brown, and Woodstock and held it out to me. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all. See you in a bit, Lucy and Sally.” I grabbed the tape off the register as I passed and hung up the poster in the window. The top read, “Celebrate the Great Pumpkin with a latte.” I had just attached the last piece of tape when Bear and Henri came in.
“Two lattes please,” Henri said as she turned back to me. “Thought you might appreciate some more float-riders.”
“Really? Yes, please. The more the merrier.”
“Good,” Bear said as he held up a child’s piano. “I really hope you don’t have a Schroeder yet.” The big man looked so excited.
“We do not, and we definitely need one. You can ride at the front and play us along.” I laughed as Bear grimaced. “I don’t mean that you really have to play. We have a recording.”
“Whew,” Bear said as he plunked down his piano and headed toward the café. “You had me worried.”
“Who are you going to be?” I asked Henri.
“Well, do you have a Marcie yet?” she asked.
Behind her Rocky let out a cackle. “I love it. The artist with dreadlocks plays the bookish girl with thick glasses.”
Henri laughed. “At least I’m not doing white face, right?”
She put on a huge set of glasses, like the ones clowns wear and tucked her dreads up under themselves. With her orange tunic, she did a very fine Marcie. “You’re hired.”
“Does that mean my latte is free?” Henri said as she took her cup from her husband.
“Definitely.” I smiled at Rocky. “Keep a tally of drinks for the parade assistants. I’ll settle up with you later.”
Rocky held up a pad of paper. “You got it.” I knew Rocky was saving for grad school now that she’d finished her undergrad degree at Salisbury U, and I didn’t want her worrying that she’d have to foot the bill for lots of free drinks. Our revenue-sharing plan served us both, but not if I gave everything away.
Henri, Bear, and I headed out to Main Street with our lattes and took a seat on the bench in front of the store. All along the sidewalk, other stores were putting out tables with sale items or giveaways. Next door, the man who owned the garden center was setting out a bazillion tiny pots filled with succulents. I walked over to take a look and ended up buying five on the spot. At a dollar a piece, they were a steal, and I knew just the place in our side yard that I wanted them.
A couple of doors down, the men who ran the hardware store had set up a mini-workshop where kids could build their own toolboxes. And down the other way, at Elle’s place, I saw she had buckets of flower stems on a table. At Chez Cuisine, I saw Symeon out front with a portable griddle, and I couldn’t resist seeing what he was making.
As I sauntered over, I kept an eye out for Max since I was not yet caffeinated enough to tactfully fend him off, but the smell of whatever Symeon was making distracted me. Just as I reached the griddle, I was assaulted from behind by breath on the back of my neck and a voice saying, “Bonjour, Belle” at my ear.
I cringed and spun with my hand out to keep Max from getting closer. “Good Morning, Max.” I turned quickly to Symeon. “What are you making?”
“Omelettes, of course.” He pointed to the light circle of egg in front of him. “Want one?”
My stomach growled my response. “Yes, please.” I looked at the containers of fillings he had on ice beside him. “Mushrooms and cheddar, please.”
Max groaned beside me. “You would prefer swiss, would you not? Symeon, please.”
Symeon looked at me and winked. “The lady knows what the lady wants,” he said as he sprinkled cheddar on my omelette and dropped a few mushrooms onto the griddle before adding them to the eggs and cheese and folding everything over.
“Yes, she does.” A voice said beside me as a hand slipped around my waist. Daniel.
“I do, indeed.” I leaned over and kissed my boyfriend on the cheek then looked pointedly at Max.
He harrumphed and walked away, and I could feel Daniel smiling beside me.
“Make one for you?” Symeon asked Daniel.
“Oh yes. Ham and cheddar, please.”
In a few moments, Symeon had made two perfect omelettes and served them onto paper plates with compostable silverware. He pointed us to a small table beside his cook station, and Daniel and I sat down to savor our surprise breakfast. It was still early, so Symeon turned down the gas on the griddle and gestured to a stool beside the table, “Do you mind?”
Daniel smiled. “Please. Least we can do to share someone else’s table with the person who made us breakfast.”
Symeon perched on the stool. “Thanks.” A yawn stretched his face. “Whew, I am not used to daytime hours.”
“I expect not. Restaurant hours are brutal,” I said as I stifled a yawn myself. “Seems like you love what you do, though?”
“I do. A lot.” He looked over my shoulder and frowned. “Mostly, anyway.”
I glanced behind me and saw Tuck headed our way. I looked back at Symeon. “You okay?”
A long sigh slid through Symeon’s lips. “Yeah. Just spent a lot of time talking with the sheriff last night. Seems like he might be considering me as a suspect in my uncle’s murder.”
I shot Daniel a quick glance, and he was studying a tiny piece of ham on his place. “Oh, well, that must be disconcerting.” I felt like disconcerting might not even begin to describe what he was feeling, but it was the best I could do if I was, indeed, chatting with an omelette-making murderer. “Any idea why he thinks that?”
Daniel kicked me under the table in the universal symbol for “Stop being nosy,” but I chose to ignore him and glanced back to see that Tuck had stopped to chat with the agents from the real estate office a couple of doors up.
Symeon shrugged. “It’s no secret that my uncle and I didn’t get along. But I guess the sheriff just discovered that we’d had a fight last weekend.” A flush of color crept up from under Symeon’s beard. “A big fight.”
“Oh,” I said and kind of wished I’d paid attention to Daniel’s kick. I didn’t want to think another of my new friends might be a murderer. Still, I found myself talking before I could stop myself. “Fight about what?”
“About what a total and complete misogynist he is.” Symeon cracked his knuckles. “I didn’t punch him or anything, but I threatened to if he hurt any more women.”
“Did you know any of the women he, um, harassed?” I didn’t know if it was wise to let Symeon know about his uncle’s more violent behaviors if he was a suspect.
“I did. And it wasn’t just harassment, as bad as that was—”
“Well, hello Harvey. Daniel,” Tuck’s greeting was friendly but crisp. “Symeon. Good to see you this morning.”
I looked up at my friend the sheriff and smiled. “Good morning, Tuck. You ready for the parade?”
He tilted his head and pursed his lips, but then, he must have decided to let what he overheard go. “As ready as I’ll ever be to sit in the back of a convertible and wave at people.”
“What?! It’s not always been your greatest desire to be the homecoming queen?” Daniel asked with a smirk.
“Hardly,” Tuck said. “The parade is fun, though, and I’m loving all the folks who have set up on the street.” He eyed the griddle. “Any chance I can trouble you?”
Symeon stood up with a smile. “Sure. What can I do you for?”
“Is that crepe batter I see?” Tuck pointed at a stainless steel tub that I had totally overlooked.
“As a matter of fact it is,” Symeon said as he ladled a circle of the batter onto the griddle. “Sweet or savory?”
I moaned. “I didn’t see you had crepes.”
Daniel laughed beside me. “Split a sweet one.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
A few minutes later, Tuck had his ham and cheddar crepe in a cone-shaped holder, and Daniel and I were passing a Nutella and banana one back and forth between us as we headed back toward the shop. We’d decided we’d all gather behind the shop at eight forty-five so that we could ride around together to the staging area, which was set up in the parking lot behind Daniel’s garage.
As we passed through my store, Marcus gave me a wave from the register. He was wearing a Peanuts T-shirt with Franklin on the front. “Nice shirt,” I shouted.
“Thanks. My girlfriend bought it for me. Said I could wear the token even if I couldn’t be one.” He laughed, and I saw Rocky giving me a thumbs up behind him.
My heart cracked with joy when I walked out and saw our float. Not only did the float itself look amazing with the huge pumpkin Cate had made and the doghouse that Woody and I had crafted, but everyone in costume made me so happy. Daniel had slipped on his bald cap as we walked out, and now with a sharpied curly-cue of hair on his head and his yellow T-shirt with the brown stripe, he looked perfect. Bear was hunched over his toy piano, with Henri as Marcie by his side. Mart and Tiffany were sitting at the front of the float with their gigantic wigs and the exact outfits that Lucy and Sally wore in most of the show’s episodes. And Woody was at the very back end of the trailer, and when I looked at him, he tossed a handful of powder in the air, swathing himself in a cloud of dust. Pig-Pen incarnate. Mom and Dad had bowed out on the pretense that the float was becoming overcrowded and their presence would only “dilute the effect.” I wasn’t upset. In fact, my sometimes-too-serious parents might have disrupted our silliness game big time.
Daniel went over and untied Mayhem and Taco from the telephone pole where we’d left them with water and helped Mayhem into her costume. That dog was so good-natured that she let us slip a giant yellow cowl on her head before we lifted her to her place next to Mart. Taco, however, was not as easy-going. He was not eager to climb up onto his fancy dog bed on the doghouse . . . until we showed him that Tiffany was holding an entire bag of bacon bits. Then, he was very eager.
I pulled the jar of pomade out of the tote full of candy I had brought to throw to the crowd and gave my hair a good slicking to straighten it out a bit. Then, I climbed up onto the float, leaned a hip against Taco’s doghouse, and braced myself.
The parade was a blast. People loved our float, and of course, Taco, Mayhem, and Pig-Pen stole the show. I gave out all my candy in the first ten minutes, but fortunately, Mart had planned ahead and stashed lots of hard candies around us. So we threw candy and waved, and the sign advertising the store at the back flapped in the wind the whole time. I saw a lot of faces I knew in the crowd, but there were far more visitors than residents, so by the time we parked back behind the shop, I was hopeful we’d have a good weekend of sales.
And if the crowd inside was any indication, it was going to be our best weekend yet. It didn’t hurt that we had the toddler-sized “First In Parade” Blue Ribbon now on display in the window.
Marcus was ringing up a huge purchase of what looked to be the Warrior Cats series for a young girl and her mother, and other customers were all around the store. He had things well in hand, but Rocky was swamped. I quickly dropped my tote behind the register and went to help her out by ringing sales. I couldn’t froth up a Snoopy, but I could count change.
As the parade crowd started to wander in, Mart took over at the register for Marcus so that he could help customers find books, and Daniel helped her bag purchases. Henri had to get back to her art studio at the co-op to give tours, but Bear hung around and helped stack books that got left around the shop. A few minutes later, Pickle came in, and soon he and Bear were escorting customers around the store and making them laugh at the same time.
When the crowd finally wound down a bit, I went to inspect the goodie bag tables out front and heard fits of laughter. I peeked around the corner into the parking lot and saw Woody, dust cloud ablazing, with a crowd around him like he was a magician at a child’s birthday party. “Who knew that my piles of lathe dust would be such a hit?” he said.
“Oh, that’s what that is. I wondered if you’d been gathering dust from our neighbors to have such a supply.”
He laughed and tossed another handful. “By the way, Cate has a surprise for you. She’s sending Lucas with it shortly, she said.”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Do you know what the surprise is, sir?”
“I have delivered my message,” he looked at the crowd of children gathered around him, “but now if you’ll excuse me, my fan club awaits.” Another puff of dust went into the air as I turned to head back to the store.
I didn’t have to wait long to learn about Cate’s surprise. Within a few minutes, Lucas, Stephen, and Walter had appeared in front of the shop with the giant pumpkin behind them on a wagon. From my spot at the register – Mart had needed to head to the winery to prepare for the fundraiser – I could see they parked it on the sidewalk next to the front door, and a minute later, Stephen came in and said, “We need your muscles.”
I furrowed my brown, shrugged at Marcus, and headed out. There, Walter stood with a sledgehammer. He grinned at me and put the handle in my hands. “The honor is all yours,” he said as he pointed at Cate’s beautiful pumpkin.
“What?! No. I’m not destroying that. It’s too beautiful.” I tried to hand the sledge back to Walter, who refused it by putting his hands behind his back.
“You heard the man. Smash the thing,” Cate said as she stepped through the crowd toward me. “I can make you a new one, but you need to smash this one.”
I stared at my tiny friend, and she nodded again. So I swung the hammer over my head and let it fall against the top of the pumpkin, where it promptly glanced off and sent me flying against the planter box behind me. I reached back to steady myself and my hand slipped down into the coleus leaves. That’s when I felt a blaze of heat run up my fingers.
When I pulled my hand out of the planter, I was bleeding . . . and holding a huge knife.