Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I can see that,” I said. “How did you two even get back in touch?”
“Oh, we’ve always stayed in touch,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. “Our families exchange Christmas cards every year. He mentioned in one card that he might move back up here. So when he did, we met for coffee while he was house-hunting—maybe a couple weeks ago. I called him again when I decided to sue your Nana. He’s licensed here, so why not? As an old friend, he didn’t charge me.”
My eyelids lowered halfway. “I see.”
Her smile sharpened. “That’s not against the law.”
“I know,” I muttered. “It’s just… convenient.” It wasn’t like I’d make Nana pay me, either.
Gloria began packing the bottles into neat rows again, her movements tidy and deliberate. The light caught on her rings, flashes of gold glinting against her pale skin. “I’ll tell you what,” she said finally, handing me a small bag with my vitamins. “If you can figure out who sabotaged my pie using your Nana’s lotion, I’ll drop the case. But until then, it has to have been her. I think it was her.”
I accepted the bag.
She looked me square in the eyes, her expression steady. “Anna, you might want to give it a thought. I know you adore her, but sometimes you have to face facts. Maybe she did it. She does like to stir things up.”
I paused, latte halfway to my mouth. Nana did like to stir things up once in a while. But poison a pie? “She’s too proud of her baking,” I said slowly. “She wouldn’t want to win by default.”
“Maybe,” Gloria said with a shrug. “But there’s nobody else.”
I exhaled through my nose, letting the moment sit between us. “All right. I’ll find out who actually did it.”
She smiled and shook her head like I was missing something. She really did believe Nana did it.
I turned and started walking again, my boots crunching on stray gravel and bits of fallen leaves. The air was crisp enough to make my cheeks tingle. Vendors were still setting up, some testing microphones, others flipping sausages on griddles. The smell of frying onions, sugar, and damp pavement clung to the air. I told myself I wasn’t bothered, but Gloria’s words followed me anyway.
I bought a few more things I didn’t need like a hand-painted mug, a scarf dyed the color of moss, and a tiny wooden carving of a fox. Retail therapy. I wandered around for more than an hour until I tucked everything into my pack. The parade would soon begin, and I wanted to be close to Nana’s shop when the procession rolled by.
Eventually, I wound up near the floats, where Aiden stood beside my dad, helping to secure a massive elk statue to the top of a truck for the Elks Lodge float. His jeans were dusty, his T-shirt clung to his shoulders, and even from a distance I could tell his mind was already halfway gone to wherever his next mission would take him.
When he caught my eye, he gave me that small, private nod that said everything and nothing. I smiled back, pretending I didn’t feel the ache that came with it. They didn’t need my help, and I could use a little distance from him for an hour or so. At least until after the parade.
I turned away and walked down the street, finally reaching Nana’s shop. The sight of it made me grin despite everything. After months of chaos, the early opening had been a success. The sign gleamed, the windows sparkled, and even the air smelled like fresh paint and vanilla candles. We had worked so hard.
The shop looked like it had been dropped out of a fairy tale and decided to stay. The brick was weathered but solid, the kind of red that deepened after a rain. Green curtains hung in the front windows, heavy and velvet-looking, drawn just enough to tease the soft golden light inside. The displays were careful but a little wild with bottles in shades of amber and emerald, bundles of dried herbs tied with twine, maybe a few crystals that caught the light even through the older windows. The front door was painted the same deep green as the curtains, with a brass handle that had been polished by me just the other day. The sign above it, hand-carved by my cousin Rory, read Celtic Moon Herbals, and I swear it looked magical somehow.
I still wished we’d found those missing boxes, but at least the shop looked beautiful.
A vendor on the corner was selling pretzels, the kind that glistened with butter and coarse salt. My stomach growled, so I reached into my purse for cash and found nothing but receipts and a stray pen. “I’ll be right back,” I said to the vendor, then jogged down the side of Nana’s shop toward the bank on the street behind hers.