Assaulted Caramel Page 10

  “I hope she is ready.” Eileen sat in one of the folding chairs and placed her box-shaped handbag on the floor. “I will not be disappointed by Swissmen Sweets twice in one day.”

  I ducked back into the kitchen before I could be seen. A moment later, Juliet came through the door followed by Jethro. If the pig had been insulted by Eileen’s threat to ban him from the church, he didn’t show it, but then again, I didn’t know what an insulted potbellied pig should look like.

  Juliet cupped her hand around her mouth and said, barely above a whisper, “Eileen, her daughter, and Jace are here.”

  “I heard,” I whispered back.

  “Oh, Sweetie.” Juliet came to my side. “You look white as a sheet.”

  “I do?” I asked. I must be more nervous about confronting Jace Colton with his father’s death than I realized. I checked my appearance in the reflection of the refrigerator door.

  “There’s nothing to worry about. Eileen Hutton is all talk. She’s harmless really.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. I pinched my cheeks to combat the pallor of my skin. Then I returned to the desserts and drizzled chocolate around the plates with the three truffles. I added a white and milk chocolate heart on the edge of each plate.

  I had hand molded the hearts from chocolate. I wished that I had asked Eileen if the wedding had a theme. If I’d known, I would have been able to make a more specific mold for the theme, but at least this demonstrated that I could do it. There really wasn’t anything that I couldn’t make out of chocolate. The possibilities were endless if you knew what you were doing, and I knew what I was doing. I knew how to manipulate chocolate. It was the only aspect of my life that was under my complete control.

  For the tasting, I had prepared a selection of three truffles, as well as a chocolate-drizzled caramel corn. I could already imagine Eileen turning up her nose at that, but it was all the rage in foodie circles, as she should well know, and if she didn’t, I’d be delighted to tell her. There were also individual chocolate-dipped strawberries, ramekins of molten chocolate cakes with caramel and sea salt, and JP Chocolates’ famous white chocolate mousse. I hoped that the second option wouldn’t be too cakelike for the groom.

  I added a final drizzle on the third plate with a flourish.

  “You’re like an artist stroking her paintbrush across a blank canvas,” Juliet said.

  I blushed and picked up two of the plates. “That’s a fair comparison. I do feel like a bit of an artist when it comes to chocolate. You should see some of the incredible things we have made in my shop back in New York. They really are works of art and far too lovely to eat.”

  Juliet picked up the third plate. “Let me help you with this.”

  I nodded my thanks but paused at the doorway. I took a deep breath. I could handle this. Eileen and her family couldn’t be any worse that some of Jean Pierre’s customers.

  “Go on now, Bailey,” Julie said encouragingly. “Eileen won’t bite.” She laughed her wind chime laugh again.

  “Here we go,” I said under my breath, and before I stepped into the hall, I plastered a bright smile on my face. It was the same smile that I used when dealing with difficult customers at Jean Pierre’s shop. “Eileen, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  Eileen narrowed her ice blue eyes at me. “We do not appreciate being kept waiting.”

  I set the plates on the table. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I had some final touches and wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for you.”

  “Those look so good,” Mira said barely above a whisper. Her eyes slid to her mother as if she were checking for Eileen’s reaction to her comment.

  Even seated at the round table, Jace retained his hold on Mira’s hand. I smiled at the bride and held out my hand. “You must be Mira. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding tomorrow. I’m Bailey King.”

  Mira pulled her hand from Jace’s grasp to shake mine and gave me the tiniest of smiles. “Thank you so much for making the desserts. I know that it must be difficult under the circumstances . . .” Her voice caught, and Jace took her hand again.

  Jace shook his hair out of his eyes and watched me with a deep frown on his face. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that he was Eileen’s child instead of Mira, not because of his appearance, but because of his attitude. I extended my hand to him as well. “And you must be the lucky groom, Jace. Congratulations to you too.”

  He shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.” His tone was firm and confident. Nothing like the timid greeting Mira had given me. I tried to assess Jace’s level of distress over his father’s death. There was no outward sign of grief that I could see.

  I glanced at Mira. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and her black mascara, which had been expertly applied, was ever so slightly smudged. She was certainly more broken up over Tyson’s death than his son, or so it appeared.

  Eileen sat directly across from her daughter and held herself with ease and authority. Eileen was a woman who knew who she was and how to use her power. Mira, not so much. Mira looked as if her strategy for dealing with any problem was to flee. Maybe that was why Jace was so intent on holding her in place. Perhaps he thought she’d turn into a runaway bride.

  “I’m so sorry about your father,” I said to Jace, thinking it would be best to address the enormous elephant in the room. There was no point in hiding the fact that we were at the church and not at Swissmen Sweets because his father had died in my grandparents’ kitchen. “My grandparents and I are so very grateful that you would still like Swissmen Sweets to cater the desserts for your wedding tomorrow. I know it must be hard for you to be here today, considering the circumstances.”

  “Right,” Jace said.

  “Right” wasn’t exactly the response I would have expected from a grieving son. What about his father’s death was “right”? Maybe Jace was just a very composed guy. Perhaps he was more upset over his father’s death than he outwardly appeared.

  Juliet clicked a leash on Jethro’s collar. “I’ll just leave you to it. I’m going to see what Reverend Brook is up to.” Juliet led the pig from the fellowship hall. As much as they had startled me when I’d first arrived, I was sorry to see them go. I felt like I had lost the one ally I had. Well, two, if you counted the pig. Now, I was on my own.

  Eileen clicked her tongue. “I don’t know why she insists on carrying on the charade. Everyone in the congregation knows that she and Reverend Brook are a couple. It’s shameful if you ask me. The pastor’s wife has only been dead two years, and he’s already moved on to another woman. If I passed away, I would never want my husband to remarry.”

  “Will your husband join us for the tasting too?” I asked, hoping the answer was no, because I had only made enough desserts for the three people in front of me.

  “I’m divorced,” she said in a clipped voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, not at all surprised by this revelation. “I suppose we should get started. I know that you all have a lot to do before tomorrow.”

  Eileen looked as if she wanted to say something, so I forged ahead. “In front of you we have a trio of truffles. Going left to right, the flavors are pistachio with sea salt, dark chocolate raspberry lemon, and green peppercorn. These are by no means the only truffles that can be made for the wedding, but I wanted to give a sampling, so you’d have an idea of what we can offer.”

  “These are so beautiful,” Mira whispered. “Each piece is like a little sculpture. I’ve always thought, when I’ve gone into your grandparents’ candy shop, that what they do is like sculpting. I’m a potter myself.”

  “A potter?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I work in ceramics. I have a little studio in town.”

  Jace cleared his throat.

  “It’s just a hobby, really,” Mira added quickly.

  I frowned. It sounded like much more than a hobby to me.

  She covered her mouth and gasped. “I’m sorry. It’s just been such a horrible day. I wa
nted to put this off for another time . . .”

  “Mira, we already went over this,” Jace snapped. “The wedding is tomorrow. There is no other time to put it off to. Unless you no longer want to marry me tomorrow. Is that it?”

  Mira stared at her folded hands. “I didn’t say that. I just feel it might be too soon after what happened this morning. Shouldn’t we postpone out of respect for your father?”

  She had a point.

  Jace picked up the peppercorn truffle but then set it back on his plate. “He was my father. If anyone should want to postpone the wedding, it’s me, and I don’t. This is my decision.”

  I couldn’t help but think that the wedding was Mira’s decision too. Before I could voice that opinion, Eileen chimed in. “Jace is right, Mira. You can’t let what happened derail the plans for the wedding.” Eileen picked up her fork and cut the raspberry lemon truffle in half.

  I gave a sigh of relief to see that the inside was perfectly shaped.

  She picked up one-half of the truffle and ate it. She chewed slowly as if taking in all the flavors. Then she ate the second half of the truffle. While she chewed, Jace picked up the same truffle, popped it into his mouth without preamble, and swallowed it like he was throwing back an oyster.

  Mira didn’t touch her plate. I suspected that she was waiting to hear from either her mother or her fiancé that the truffle was worth eating.

  “It’s very good,” Eileen finally said.

  As if on cue, Mira picked up her fork and cut the first truffle on her plate in half, but she didn’t actually put it in her mouth.

  “You said that this next one is pistachio?” Eileen asked.

  I nodded, letting out a breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding. “With sea salt.”

  She picked up her fork and cut into her second truffle. She stuck the business end of the fork into the creamy chocolate middle but stopped the fork halfway to her mouth. “Mira, taste one of them, for goodness sake.”

  The smaller woman jerked away from her mother as if she had been slapped, but then she did what she was told. She picked up one-half of the raspberry lemon truffle and took a tentative bite. I couldn’t help wondering if the girl’s nervousness had something to do with Tyson’s death. Of the three of them, she seemed to be the one most affected.

  Eileen finished the third truffle. “These are all very good, Bailey. I must say that I’m impressed, and I’m not easily impressed.”

  That was a shock.

  “Thank you,” I said in a tone as sweet as the truffles Eileen had just eaten.

  “But—” she began.

  I wasn’t a huge fan of the word “but” when it came to my creations, but I was certainly accustomed to it, considering Jean Pierre’s clientele in Manhattan.

  “I’d like to make a few changes,” Eileen went on. “Perhaps offer a fourth truffle, something unique and special that no one in Holmes County would have ever had before. If we are going have a New York City chocolatier make our desserts, I want everyone coming to the wedding to be wowed by what you offer them.” She made a note on the pad next to her plate.

  I nodded. “We can certainly do that. Let me grab the next sampling while you make your notes.”

  Jace’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his jeans pocket and looked at the screen. “You’ll have to continue without me for a moment. I need to take this.” He held up the phone as if it stood as some kind of proof.

  “Whatever could be more important right now than your wedding? You are getting married in less than twenty-four hours,” Eileen said in a huff.

  Jace clenched his jaw, but when he tossed his hair out of his eyes, his expression smoothed from irritation to the boredom that seemed to be his resting face. “It’s from my office.”

  “Oh,” Mira said. “Yes, it must be important. Yes, you must take the call.” She shot a frightened look at her mother.

  Eileen folded her hands on the top of the table. “If you must take it, you must take it. Just don’t be long.”

  Jace marched in the direction the kitchen, bumping my shoulder as he went. He didn’t make any promises about the duration of his phone call.

  Eileen watched him go, a scowl marring her perfectly made-up face. “What on earth could be so important that he had to take the call in the middle of our tasting?”

  Mira stared at her hands. I couldn’t help but think that she knew exactly why Jace had to take that call, and I sensed it had something to do with his father’s murder.

  Chapter 17

  Before Eileen could protest, I gathered up their empty truffle plates and hurried into the kitchen. I was dying to follow Jace and find out who had called him. I set the plates on the counter, opened the oven door, and removed the molten chocolate cakes from the convection oven where I had left them to keep warm.

  I was removing my oven mitts when I caught sight of Jace. He was right outside the kitchen window, pacing back and forth with his cell phone plastered to his ear. His skin was flushed, and even though I couldn’t hear the words, I could hear the angry tone of his voice through the window.

  I made a split-second decision and shut the oven door, then ran out the back door of the kitchen. The kitchen opened into a small utility room with a stationary tub and a water heater. On the opposite wall from the kitchen, there was a metal door that must lead to the outside.

  A petite Amish girl yelped as I barged into the room. She stood at the stationary tub filling a plastic bucket with water. White bubbles sloshed over the sides of the bucket.

  “Did a man with floppy hair come through here?”

  She stared at me openmouthed.

  “Did a man come through here just now?”

  She nodded but still didn’t speak.

  I hurried out the back door, which opened onto a small parking lot. A large green dumpster stood to the right of the door. There was one car in the lot, and the sign in front of it said REV. BROOK.

  To the left of the parking lot was a cemetery that looked as if it dated back to the Civil War, at least. Many of the headstones were covered with moss, and all but the faintest impression of the engravings had worn away.

  Jace leaned against a large oak tree and gazed into the middle of the graveyard, his cell held up to his ear. His back was to me, and he faced away from the church as he stared out beyond the rolling hills that made up much of Holmes County. In the distance, a buggy crested one of those hills and raced down the other side. As quietly as possible, I closed the utility room door behind me.

  For the briefest of moments, I questioned my sanity for leaving the kitchen to follow Jace. For one, Eileen would soon be wondering what had happened to the next tasting plate, if she wasn’t already. Secondly, I stood in the middle of the back parking lot. If Jace merely glanced over his shoulder, he would see me. Thirdly, the possibly mute Amish girl knew I was outside spying on Jace. What if she let someone know what I had done?

  “I don’t care how you take care of it, just do it,” Jace yelled into the phone. “There is no reason to get anyone else involved.”

  I inched a few steps closer. There was a large headstone at the corner of the cemetery. I hesitated for just a moment before I made a mad dash for it, and then crouched beside it.

  “Don’t you understand my father has been murdered? The police will be looking at all of his records for a motive. We need to make sure that he doesn’t have anything in those records that we need to worry about.”

  I peeked around the headstone and the ridiculousness of the situation struck me. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to physically hold back a giggle that bubbled in the back of my throat.

  The back door of the church opened, and the Amish girl stepped through it. She struggled to carry the heavy bucket of soapy water. In her other hand, she held a scrub brush. She caught sight of me hiding behind the tombstone, and her dark eyes went wide.

  Jace turned around and spotted the girl. “I’ve gotta go,” he said into the phone. “You know what you need t
o do.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket and stomped toward the girl.

  She set her bucket on the pavement and adjusted her stance as if she were bracing herself for impact.

  “What are you doing here?” Jace demanded of the girl.

  “I am working.”

  He pointed at her. “You’re here to put more ideas in Mira’s head, aren’t you?”

  The girl stepped back. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m very sorry for your loss, Jace. I’m sorry for you and Mira that this happened, especially at such an important time.”

  I stared at the pair. It was clear that they knew each other, which wasn’t unreasonable in a village as small as Harvest, but Jace didn’t strike me as an Englisher who spent much time with the Amish.

  From my vantage point crouched by the large tombstone, I couldn’t see Jace’s face. His back was rigid as he spoke to the girl. “Don’t lie. I know exactly how you and the rest of them feel. You’re glad he’s dead.”

  The girl stumbled back, knocking her ankle against the bucket of soapy water. Suds and water sloshed over the side. “How can you say that? You know we wouldn’t want anything to happen that would ruin Mira’s special day.”

  He took a step toward her. “There you go lying again. Don’t pretend you and Emily want me to marry Mira. You have been against it from the start.”

  I frowned. Emily? Could he mean Emily Esh from the pretzel shop?

  The girl licked her lips. “All we want is for Mira to be happy and marry a gut man.”

  “And I’m not a good man?” Jace asked.

  The girl didn’t reply. Her silence was answer enough.

  “Mira and I are getting married tomorrow, and there is nothing that you or any of her Amish friends can do to stop it.” With that, he marched around her and stormed back inside the church.