Chapter Eighteen
“Sure you don’t want whipped cream on that?” Nate’s courtesy is professional only, but it doesn’t stop the flutters from tickling my ribcage. Said butterflies unfurled the minute I walked in and saw him steaming milk at the coffee machine.
“No, thanks. I ate my weight in cookies last night. When I was a kid, Christmas cookies weren’t until Christmas Eve.”
“That right?” He slides the peppermint mocha across the counter, and I see his latte art extends to snowmen. Except, it’s a snow woman, with long hair.
“Nate, you have a real talent.”
“Thanks, but seriously, anyone can learn to do it. I’m a left-brained guy but picked it up in the training our coffee supplier offers every month.”
“What did you do, before?” The question pops out before I can turn off my inner Miss Marple.
“Engineering.” He’s vague and I take the hint, along with my coffee, as I turn to walk to a table.
“What kind of cookies?”
“Huh?”
“You said you had cookies last night. I’m a cookie aficionado. I just wondered.”
Heat waves up my throat, my face. “Oh, um, it was here. Upstairs.”
“You were at the Stonebridge Buddies meeting?”
“I was. Does that surprise you?”
“That you’re a member, no. You own a local business. But it couldn’t have been easy. I hope they weren’t too hard on you.”
“Meaning?”
He shrugs. “I sling coffee. I hear a lot. Folks are worried, is all. I wouldn’t take it personally, about Frannie, that it happened in your building. Folks are just scared, is all. Fear does strange things to people.” He’s cleaning the milk fr others with a soft cloth, polishing the stainless-steel pipes to a bright shine that reflects the twinkling blue-and-white lights strung on the rectangular appliance. This part of the counter is the Hanukah section and my gaze catches on the hand-printed ceramic menorah atop the entire display. My fingers itch to take a peek and see where it was made.
“Something catch your eye?” His tone is light, as if he senses I need a change of topic.
“This menorah…where did you get it?”
“Amy’s responsible for the decor in here. She’s our store manager.”
“I thought you ran the store?”
“I own it.” Quietly stated.
“You weren’t at the Stonebridge Buddies meeting last night.” Or serving. I would have noticed.
“I was holed away in the back office, getting the books done. I don’t attend all the meetings. As much as I enjoy the small-town life, I’m not all that interested in the politics, if you get my drift. I’m a Buddies member, and give them a free place to hold meetings.”
“That’s generous of you. Back to Amy, how has that worked for you, to have a manager? I’m actually here to put up help needed sign on your bulletin board.”
“Please do. Having Amy has changed the game for me. As a business owner by definition my blood, sweat, and tears are invested, one hundred percent. But I know what I’m good at, and what’s best left to experts. Amy’s a driven worker who knows how to make things happen. I want to make coffee, meet my customers, and keep the doors open behind the scenes. Having a manager frees up my head space.” He grins and the tension in my chest eases. No matter that half the town thinks I killed Frannie, Nate doesn’t care, or if he does, he’s not acting like he does. Having a complete—well, almost—stranger trust me is truly heartwarming.
Unless.
Unless it means Nate’s the killer. I gulp. And start coughing, the latte somewhere in the vicinity of my tonsils.
“Here.” He quickly fills a cup with water and slides it in front of me.
“Thanks.” I gulp the cold liquid. “Nate, can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.” Does he pick this word for any reason?
“Where were you Saturday afternoon?”
“When Frannie was murdered.” A statement, no frills.
“Yes.”
He sets the cloth down, leans against the back counter. I don’t allow myself to check out how his jeans fit snugly in the right places. Not while he’s a possible suspect.
“I already explained myself to Detective Colson. Are you acting on her behalf, to catch me in some supposed lie, Angel Warren?” His tone is light but I hear the warning tone. I wish I could say the shivers on my spine are from fear but hey, I’m a warm-blooded woman.
“No, I’m definitely not acting in any official capacity, trust me. Trinity would have my hide in a blink. I’m asking for me, for my business that’s not off the ground yet, and mostly, for Frannie.”
He pushes off the work edge and takes the single step to bring him no more than a foot from me. “Then I have no problem assuring you that I was here the entire time. See that?” He points to elaborate cornice detail above the main entry.
“The carved lion?”
“Check out his mouth.” Nate’s breath is a blast of mint, not the gag-reflex coffee breath I’d expect. He does sip coffee behind the counter. Not that I watch him over much. My gaze follows his finger, and there, in between the roaring lion’s sharp teeth, is a round lens.
“I never saw that before!”
“I had the entire place wired for security as soon as I signed on the dotted line to purchase. Not only does it add to my peace of mind, it’s a great insurance discount.”
“I’m doing the same.”
“You won’t regret it.”
Nor will I regret the extra time with Nate.
Focus on solving Frannie’s murder.
I am, but it’s okay to enjoy a fun distraction, isn’t it?
Sure, until the murderer sneaks up on you.
Since I’m sitting in Latte Love, I should speak to Sylvia’s niece. I didn’t notice her when I was talking to Nate but, well, Nate’s a distraction onto himself. Just what kind of engineer was he?
Before I can type G-O-O-G-L-E into my keyboard I hear a familiar female voice. Amy’s greeting a customer, taking an order. I bide my time, sip what’s left of the peppermint mocha. Pumpkin spice is all the rage before Thanksgiving but not for me. I can drink Christmas concoctions year-round. Although for Christmas in July I do like to ice the peppermint mochas.
Another group of customers enter and impatience makes my face hot. But there’s no sense trying to get any information out of Amy in front of a crowd. I need to know exactly what Frannie did to make Sylvia shutter the tea shop, and I doubt Amy or anyone else would be willing to speak publicly about anything to do with Frannie. I don’t blame them.
Finally, Amy’s alone at the counter, replenishing the glass case with individually wrapped slices of pumpkin cranberry bread.
Not for the first time I think about how silly this is. I’m basically creeping around town trying to extract information about a murder from people I don’t know well, at least not yet. Except Frannie’s death is the antithesis of silly.
“Amy?” I wait for her to look up from the large cartons of baked goods. She is slim but strong, her hands deliberate in placing each baked good in its proper place, making the display all the more enticing. The scent of butter, cranberry and pumpkin is distracting but sweets are the last thing I need.
“Yes?”
“I’m Angel. I’m the owner of Shop ’Round the World, down the street. I know your Aunt Sylvia. I hear she’s moved to the shore last spring.”
“Yes, she said you’d moved back here.” She smiles. “We talk almost every day. She’s more like my mother, to be fair. How’s it going with the curio shop? Have you opened yet?” She peels off her latex gloves.
“Well, it’s not a curio shop per se but an international gift shop of sorts.” Marketing is not my strong point, have I mentioned that? “I’m opening in ten days.” I hope.
She frowns. “It can’t be easy, with Frannie being found there and all.”
“No, it hasn’t been. Can I ask you something?” I move closer to the counter, so that no one will overhear. Fortunately it’s that lull in the afternoon between lunch and when the kids come in after school. The coffee shop’s the least busy I’ve seen it.
“What’s up?” Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and her gaze is direct.
“Do you happen to know the details about when Sylvia closed the tea shop?”
She leans back, crosses her arms over her chest, hiding the graphic tee that sports a half-eaten gingerbread cookie that says, BITE ME.
“I know the ins and outs of the tea shop’s demise all too well. What do you want to know?”
“Why did she close up shop? It’s just that my mother and sister and I used to love to get Christmas tea there every year, and I know we weren’t alone. I’ve moved back after a long time away and it’s sad to see the changes.”
“It was a lot of things, to be fair. Aunt Sylvie’s health hasn’t been great. Mostly because she stresses too much over things she can’t control. Schrock Real Estate’s way of doing business was one of them.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sure you already know this, but they’re the biggest thing in Stonebridge, as far as commercial property goes. They own at least half of the buildings. Three years ago Fr—Schrock Real Estate went on a rent-raising spree, especially along Main Street. It wasn’t just our store that got it. Remember the tattoo parlor? And the dog groomer’s? They’re all gone, too. I know all of this because I worked in the tea shop over school breaks from college.” Her obvious reluctance to mention Frannie’s name doesn’t strike me as grief driven.
“I just dropped my girls, twins, off at college. Pitt and Temple. Where did you go to school, Amy?” I give myself a mental pat on the shoulder for not interrogating her as I would a sailor.
“Penn State. Harrisburg campus for two years, then I transferred to State College.”
“Great choice. What was your major?”
“Premed at first, but then I switched to Physical Therapy.”
“What a good field to get into. PT has kept my shoulders in top shape over the years.”
“Yeah, well, the plan was to finish up my PT certification right after. I only needed another eighteen months. But Aunt Sylvie, who paid for my college, couldn’t afford to send me. Schrock has always owned our building, and the rent would raise here and there but nothing out of line.”
“Did you think about taking out loans?”
“Sure did, but family comes first. Aunt Sylvie was beside herself trying to make ends meet. She overbooked events, didn’t give herself enough recoup time in between high teas. And you probably already know about the hiring issue, since I saw your flyer on the bulletin board. She needed my help but it wasn’t enough. There was no way out for the tea shop. Aunt Sylvie doesn’t have a pension from anywhere else. The tea shop’s all she’s ever had.” Amy’s defense of Sylvie hits me in the solar plexus. Is she inferring that opening my shop is easier because I have a Navy pension? Which is none of her business. Sure, I have healthcare and a pension for life, but it’s not enough to support the girls through college, even after splitting my GI Bill with them. I force myself to let it go and focus on Amy.
“My sister told me she had to close the shop, but I had no idea how hard it was on Sylvie.” Nor how complicated. My compassion for Amy wells. She’s working here instead of going to graduate school as she’d planned, as Sylvia had planned. Frannie and Ken pulled the rug out from under them. Guilt follows quickly on empathy’s heels. Frannie’s not here to defend herself ever again.
“It’s all worked out. Sylvie had a decent nest egg that I insisted she leave alone. I was so afraid she was going to draw from it for the shop, which would have been disastrous. This way she’s in a nice little place outside of Cape May. She’s thinking about opening a small tea place there.”
“That sounds lovely, and Cape May is definitely a tea-lovers destination. Do you get there a lot?”
“Not this time of year. I worked there all summer and put away a good amount. I’m back here until next May. I live with my cousin so it’s a decent setup. Now that Aunt Sylvie’s settled, I’m applying to start grad school next fall.”
“Good for you!”
She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re asking me all this because why?”
“Just new and finding my way around here. And like I said, I know your Aunt Sylvie. She’s more familiar with my mother, of course. Please tell her we send our best.”
“I will. Do you happen to need a store manager?”
“Not yet, but after hearing Nate sing your praises, I’m thinking it might not be a bad idea. Right now I’m looking for someone to handle my social media promo, some event planning.”
“I’m free most nights. If you don’t need me in the store itself during retail hours, I’d be interested.”
“Aren’t you already full-time here?” The last thing I want to do is poach Nate’s top employee.
“I’m saving for grad school. I’ll take all the hours I can get, anywhere.”
“Let me think about it.” Meaning, I need to talk to Nate about it. “Thanks for your time, Amy.”
“Sure thing.”
I walk out of Latte Love with my head spinning. And it’s not about Shop ’Round the World, which needs my total attention. Is it possible that Amy harbors a deep, dark resentment against Frannie over Sylvie’s early retirement? Strong enough to not only kill, but to make it look like I did it?