“Morning, Miss Dayton,” someone called from the garden. I turned to find the lawn worker busily working on my garden boxes.
“Up so early?” I called.
“Oh, well, I’ll get you all finished today so you can get some bulbs in before the first frost. Emma Jane always had the prettiest daffodils growing out here. You know, she let me take her to dinner once,” the older man said with a wistful smile. “Lovely girl,” he added then went back to his work.
Okay, now that was the second aged gentleman in Chancellor to wax poetic about Emma Jane. Those must have been some memories if they were lining up decades later to have a chance to show their gratitude. I giggled at the thought of it. Just when did Grandma Belle’s brother Owen die that Emma Jane had so much time to date?
On the front porch was an old potting table. I moved it out to the front garden. Grabbing a bucket and hose, I scrubbed it clean. As I worked, I eyed the busy street. Mr. Hunter arrived at Falling Waters just as I finished cleaning off the table. He slid out of his white Mercedes like a slick fish swimming upriver. He paused and looked across the street toward me.
Grinning, I waved to him.
He turned and went inside.
I noticed then that several official looking people were moving down the street toward the park called The Grove. What was going on?
Just then, however, a white pickup pulled up at the parking along Main Street in front of the shop.
“Are you Miss Dayton?” the man in the driver’s seat asked. Three men were packed into the front of the pickup. I couldn’t help but notice that the driver was an older gentleman. Yet another of Emma Jane’s conquests?
“That’s me,” I called.
“I’m Milt, Mrs. Row’s husband. Got my helpers here. Toot said Emma Jane’s old place could use some paint. Got a favorite color?”
“I like Emma Jane’s green,” I said, motioning to the shutters. “Maybe something plum colored for inside?”
Milt nodded as his assistants got out of the truck. “I’ll grab the paint. The boys will start priming the place up.”
“But Mr. Row, I’m not sure I can affor—”
“We’ve got it, Miss Dayton,” he said. He waved to his workers then headed off.
“Mind if we go inside?” the men asked, both of them carrying tool kits and paint cans.
“I guess not,” I said with a grin.
I shook my head as I watched them go.
Grabbing the old sign for Serendipity Gardens that had been lying on the porch, I laid it down on the old table then headed back inside to bring the paints I’d brought with me. Cracking open a can of chartreuse-colored paint, I painted a base coat on the faded sign. The bright green base coat dried while I washed out my brushes. Now I was ready for the real trick. Grabbing the recipe box from inside, I headed back to the garden with black paint and a thin brush. On one end of the sign, I began painting the image of the woman with long hair just as she was depicted on the recipe box.
I worked for a long while, concentrating hard. I didn’t look up until a shadow loomed over the sign, startling me.
“Is that…the recipe box,” a woman said aghast.
I looked up to see Mrs. Row standing there. She had a shocked impression on her face.
“It was left…for me,” I said, realizing the moment I said it that it was true. “Mrs. Row, I don’t know how I can ever possibly thank you for everything you’ve done for me. And I have no idea how I’m going to repay you.”
“The box…can you make the recipes? Have you…have you tried one? Can you do it?” The woman had a very serious expression on her face. It was then I realized what she was really asking. She wanted to know if I had tried one of the…poems. No, that wasn’t the right word for what they were nor the effect they seemed to have. She wanted to know if I had tried one of the…spells.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Row grinned. “There used to be a recipe for these adorable little cupcakes with sugar forget-me-nots. Make me about five dozen of those, exactly as the recipe says, for the public hearing on The Grove tonight, and we’ll call it even.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. At seven. Can you manage it?”
I pulled out my cell. It was only ten. I had time. “Sure. But all this? Just for some cupcakes?”
Mrs. Row laughed. “You’re sure you have made something from that box before…and the recipe…turned out?”
I nodded.
“Then, yes. All that for some forget-me-not cupcakes. Don’t be late. About five dozen delivered to the town hall tonight no later than seven. Promise me you’ll do that, Julie?”
“Of course.”
“That’s a good girl. Better start baking,” she said then, patting my arm. With a wave, she then crossed the street to join the businessmen and women gathered in The Grove. I couldn’t help but notice that Aaron Hunter had joined them as well. A young woman with long, dark hair was at his side. She was looking in my direction.
She waved to me. Was she Horatio’s sister?
Smiling, I returned the gesture then dropped my paintbrush into a cup of water. If I was going to bake cupcakes, I’d need to get to work. First, I’d get cleaned up. Then, I needed to grab some supplies. This was the first order from my new business. I couldn’t wait to get started.
Tucking the recipe box under my arm, I headed inside.
Chapter 15: Horatio
The Town Hall was packed. Against my better judgement, I went with Viola to the meeting regarding The Grove, mostly to offer her some moral support.
“They’re going to shoot down his request. They’ve all but told him so already,” she whispered to me.
“Then what in the hell is he doing here? The Grove is a town landmark. They aren’t going to let him scoop up the property.”
“He was on the phone with his accountant this morning,” Viola whispered. “He’s going to pull a godfather.”
“A godfather?”
“Make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
“He’s out of his mind. He’s going to sink the winery just to open this restaurant. I don’t understand. I mean, having a venue for the winery is nice, but the vineyard tours are doing fine. What is so important about Falling Waters? To sacrifice—”
“You. To sacrifice you. To sacrifice the relationship he has with the town officials. I don’t know,” Viola said then as she cast her eyes across the room. I watched as her eyes landed on Dad who was chatting up President White. “I don’t know,” she whispered more quietly, this time to herself.
“Cupcake?” I heard someone ask from behind me.
I turned to find Julie standing there. She was wearing a purple dress with an embroidered neck line and cowboy boots. I looked down at the tray she was holding. On it she had neatly arranged delicate looking mini cupcakes, each topped with light blue icing and a small blue flower.
“Julie,” I said with a smile then leaned in to give her a polite “in public” hug. “Meet my sister, Viola,” I said then, turning to Viola who was already grinning at Julie.
“Nice to meet you,” Viola said then. “Let me guess,” she added, looking down at the cupcakes, “Mrs. Row?”
Julie smiled and nodded. The lines around her mouth quivered a little. Was she nervous to meet Viola? “She seems to have adopted me.”
“Take it,” Viola said, lifting one of the petite cupcakes from the tray. “Mrs. Row knows everyone. And more importantly, everyone likes her.” Viola popped the cupcake into her mouth then sighed heavily. After a moment she asked. “What in the world? That was about the best bite I’ve ever had. What kind of cupcake is that?”