“Insane? Bonkers? Several cookies short of a mass poisoning?”
Olivia heard a gentle laugh as her mother joined them, also holding the offending paper. “Maddie, dear,” Ellie said, “I must agree with Livie, and not only because she is my daughter. On numerous occasions, I have not agreed with her in the least, such as—”
“Mom, could we focus on the part where you think I’m right?”
“Certainly, Livie.” With a motherly squeeze to Maddie’s shoulders, Ellie said, “I do understand your feelings, Maddie. Those outlandish claims are more than lies; they are a profound insult, not only to your integrity but also to the intelligence of your customers. No, I don’t believe Charlene is clinically insane. I do sense that something is deeply amiss in her life, though, and this is her way of . . . I don’t know, assuming control?”
“Are you taking a class in Jungian analysis, Mom?”
Ellie patted her daughter’s arm. “No, dear, it wouldn’t provide nearly enough exercise for me. All I’m suggesting is that we turn our attention to Charlene’s current situation. For instance, who tore apart her store, and why hasn’t this person picked on other stores in Chatterley Heights? I have to wonder if Charlene is being tortured by a personal enemy, and maybe she feels alone. Perhaps we should talk to her, try to—”
“Uh oh,” Olivia said.
“Now hear me out,” Ellie said.
“No, I mean ‘uh oh,’ as in, look who is coming through the front door.”
Olivia noticed that the decibel level of customer chatter dropped a notch and several hands pulled back from the cookie trays as Charlene Critch closed the front door behind her. She was dressed to perfection in a figure-skimming, pink-and-white striped sundress. The stripes were vertical, of course, to emphasize Charlene’s slight figure. Her blond hair was gathered into a ponytail, with tendrils framing her face. From a distance, she could pass for a teenager.
Olivia accepted the inevitable: if there was to be a confrontation, she should be the one to handle it. For the long, complex process of creating decorated cookies, Maddie had infinite patience. For people, not so much. Forming her lips into a smile, Olivia wove through her customers and around display tables toward the front of the store.
Charlene watched Olivia’s approach with a cold stare. She didn’t speak until they were face-to-face. “How could you?” she said, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the store.
“How could I? All I did was—”
“Do you think I’m so dense I wouldn’t understand what you and Maddie are trying to do? I knew she was mean enough to try a stunt like this, but I can’t believe you played along. I ought to sue both of you.”
“Sue us? Look, all we did was host a celebration of the harvest. I really don’t think that is grounds for a lawsuit. If anything, you’re the one that—”
“This is just so . . .” Charlene’s brown eyes began to glisten with tears. “So mean. You were only pretending to be kind to me after my store got broken into. And now you’re trying to destroy my business.” Her thin chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
“Charlene, let’s talk somewhere else.”
“Don’t even bother to deny it. The evidence it right there.” Charlene pointed toward a nearby table, where a tray held three uneaten cookies: a magenta apple with a grinning pink worm, a cornflower blue carrot, and something that looked like a turnip with the icing licked off. “You and Maddie are trying to trick everybody into believing that healthy eating doesn’t matter, so they won’t come to my Healthy Eating Club, or maybe even my store. You’re trying to ruin me, and . . . and you’re willing to poison everyone in Chatterley Heights to do it.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, dragging her mascara and foundation with them.
In a flash, Olivia reached two understandings. First, Charlene probably believed everything she had written in her announcement. And second, her thickly applied makeup was an attempt to hide a black eye.
Charlene sniffled and swiped the tears off her cheeks. She seemed unaware that the bruised skin around her left eye had begun to show. “Anyway,” she said, “I didn’t come to talk to you. I need to talk to your brother.”
“Charlie? I think I saw him over by the coffee table, near the window facing the square.” Olivia waved her hand in the general direction of the window. “But Charlene, are you sure you’re all right? I couldn’t help but notice—”
“You’re the one who’s out of it,” Charlene said. “I think all that sugar has eaten holes in your brain. Charlie is my brother, not yours. I’m here to talk to Jason. Your brother.”
That superior edge had slipped back into Charlene’s voice. For a split second, Olivia wanted to slap her; then she remembered that someone already had. Olivia looked around for her mother. Wasn’t this where she was supposed to take over and calm the atmosphere? “I wasn’t aware you and Jason were friends,” Olivia said and instantly wished she’d stuffed a cookie in her own mouth. Charlene and Jason had been friends in high school.
“This is a small town,” Charlene said. “As you know, your younger brother is in my age group. Why wouldn’t we be friends?”
“Jason was in the cookbook nook a little while ago.” Olivia’s tone was curt, but she was beyond caring. “He was eating cookies. Lots of cookies.” So much for “handling” the situation with patience.
Charlene’s perfect little chin lifted a notch. “Then I’d better find him fast. I’ve wasted too much time waiting for your sugar-soaked brain to focus. I need to save Jason from the same fate.”
It’s time to announce the contest winner,” Maddie said as she handed Olivia a Gingerbread House recipe card with one name on it.
Olivia glanced at the name and whispered, “Jason was convinced he would win. Looks like you didn’t give him enough hints.”
“Give me some credit, Livie. I’m not a complete pushover. I gave him a couple hints, like the Duesenberg, but it turns out he isn’t the only old car fanatic in the crowd. Also, Jason isn’t a baker, so he hasn’t developed the knack of identifying shapes. He thought the baby rattle was a barbell. It seems he didn’t process the whole baby context of the mobile.”
“He really wanted that Duesenberg cutter,” Olivia said. Maybe she would give it to him—if he didn’t irritate her too much beforehand.
“Believe me, everyone knows how much Jason wants that cutter,” Maddie said. “I’d feel bad for him except he’s been whispering with Charlene in the nook. They seem pretty cozy. Just thought I’d warn you. Now let’s get cracking, the troops are assembling.”
Olivia and Maddie headed toward the picture window looking out on the town square. Customers watched in hushed silence, as if Olivia were about to announce the next governor of Maryland. Gotta love those cookie cutter fans.
“Thank you all for finding time on a Tuesday morning to join us for this impromptu celebration of the harvest and the eventual return of cool, crisp weather.” Olivia searched faces for Charlene but didn’t see her. She didn’t see Jason, either, which seemed odd given his longing to win the Duesenberg cutter. “I know many of you need to get back to work, so I’ll get right to the important part. Our cookie cutter contest winner today is . . . Gwen Tucker!”
As expected, Gwen selected the baby rattle for her free vintage cookie cutter. After congratulations, the majority of customers vacated the store, having feasted on a lunch of decorated cookies. For a fleeting moment, Olivia wondered if Charlene might have a point about The Gingerbread House being a den of wicked overindulgence. However, Charlene emerged alone from the cookbook nook and flung her a look of disdain, which erased Olivia’s guilt. Instead of leaving the store, Charlene joined her brother Charlie at the beverage cart by the front door. She appeared to be fixing herself a cup of tea.