Pressing the Issue Read online

  On his way out the door, he snatched a binder from a wall filled with an array of cookbooks and colorfully bound albums.

  “Are all of the albums filled with family photographs?” I asked.

  “Most of them. History means a lot to us. However, the one I’m holding contains a series of wedding menus. The topmost one is yours, Bailey. This way.”

  A soft breeze wafted across the verandah. Pots of colorful geraniums stood in clusters. A seagull squawked overhead. Seconds later, a crow cawed and swooped toward us. Leather tethers hung from the bird’s ankles.

  Nick scowled. “Cut it out, Alan!”

  I scanned the area but didn’t see his brother. “Alan?” I asked.

  “That’s his bird.” Nick jammed a finger in the direction of the crow. “Alan’s an amateur falconer. Those leather things . . . they’re called jesses.”

  “Ah,” I said. “I was wondering who owned the glove hanging in the utility room.”

  “That’s his backup gauntlet,” Nick grumbled. “Heaven forbid he loses one. FYI, you’ll see my brother with that idiot crow at the fair. He likes to show off how many tricks the bird can do. Right now, he’s sending it up here to irk me. I don’t want it pooping on the tile.”

  Or on our heads, I prayed.

  The bird made another pass.

  Nick bolted to the cement railing decorated with ornate balusters. “Alan, I mean it!” he yelled, slapping the top rail for effect. He sighed and returned to us. “Sorry about that. Ever since the accident, he can be so infantile. He was a pretty good lacrosse player in college. We all believed he would go pro until he got whacked in the head with a lacrosse stick.”

  “I heard about that,” I said. My aunt had shared the story. “What a fluke.”

  “Alan drew into himself after that. Our mother was beside herself with grief.”

  “I’ll bet she was.”

  “Sit. Please.”

  We sat at an oversized stone table and set down our water glasses.

  “Let’s review your menu again.” Nick placed the photo album in front of Bailey. “If you’ve changed your mind about anything, you can swap it out at this juncture. Chef Guy is a whiz and can prepare whatever your heart desires. You know Guy, don’t you? He works at Nature’s Retreat.”

  Bailey nodded. “He’s got a reputation for making some of the finest food in the area.”

  “And a reputation for having a huge ego.” Nick’s eyes sparkled, the spat with his brother a thing of the past.

  Bailey rose. “Before we peruse the menu, do you mind if I take some photographs, Nick?”

  “Be my guest.”

  She whipped her iPhone from her purse and began roaming the patio while snapping shots of the view, the gardens, and the vineyard slope. When she aimed the camera at Nick, she said, “Something’s different.”

  “About the place? It’s the same as it’s always been.”

  “No. About you.” She twirled a finger, as if trying to pinpoint what she sensed. “Your eyes are brighter.”

  “Because Alan is out of my hair.”

  “Uh-uh. It’s more than that. Are you in love?”

  Nick roared with delight. “Why would you think—”

  “I’m right, aren’t I, Jenna?” Bailey eyed me. “There’s this glow about him.” She refocused on Nick. “Brides can tell these things. We have a sixth sense, Vera says. I believe her. I feel tuned in.” She wriggled her fingertips, begging for the scoop. “C’mon, admit it.”

  He swung an arm over the back of his chair and chuckled. “Okay, you got me. I’m hopelessly in love.”

  “He’s kidding,” I said.

  “No, he’s not. He’s deadly serious.”

  “Deadly.” The corners of Nick’s mouth twitched.

  “With Dolly?” I asked. Maybe they had patched things up. “I heard you were, um, on the outs.”

  Nick’s eyebrows knitted together. “Did Dolly tell you that?”

  “No, I—”

  “Yes, she and I have officially ended it. It’s amicable.”

  Amicable? Dolly demolishing shelves in her shop with a baseball bat wasn’t amicable. What planet was he living on?

  “Do we know the lucky woman?” Bailey asked. “Is it Hannah Storm?”

  “Are you kidding?” Nick shook his head.

  “Jenna, I think the man doth protest too much,” Bailey teased. “Hannah is quite a catch, and you’re both in the same business. It’s a win-win.”

  Nick wagged a finger and in fair-speak said, “I canst tell you who the fine maiden be.”

  “Hannah is pretty darned fine,” Bailey said, unrelenting.

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Bailey slapped the table. “You rogue.”

  “I canst tell because I needs wait until she loves me in return.”

  “You’re full of it, Nick.” I laughed at his phrasing. “There’s no one, Bailey. He’s toying with you.”

  “Aye, there is,” Nick said earnestly. “And I wish to make her my queen.”

  “You’re the king,” I said. “You can have whomever you wish.”

  “True, but isn’t it better if she comes willingly? Wouldst thou want Rhett to grab you by the hair and drag you to his cave?”

  I tapped the tabletop. “You’re pulling our legs.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He rose to his feet. “Enough about my love life. Let’s talk about yours, Bailey.” He motioned us to follow him as he roamed the verandah. “You’ve heard my vision for the wedding many times, but let’s make sure we’re on the same page. We’ve discussed your color scheme—burgundy and moss green with a splash of white.”

  “Check,” she said.

  “We’ll drape moss green chiffon banners between the columns.” He swept a hand toward the horizon. “They’ll look beautiful against the ocean backdrop, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “How I love our little town. I adore the view, and the weather is divine year-round.”

  “Don’t kid a kidder,” Bailey said. “We get rain and fog.”

  “But not now. Not on my watch. Ren Fair will be blessed with sunshine. So will your wedding. I am the king.” He shot a finger into the air. “The king has decreed.”

  Bailey applauded.

  For some reason, I shivered. I peered over the railing, down the incline, and searched for Alan and his crow, hoping the bird wouldn’t soar up and ruin Nick’s rosy forecast. I didn’t spot either. However, I flinched when I spied a dark-haired woman at the fence beyond the bottommost step. She was studying us through binoculars.

  “Is that the border between Baldini Vineyards and Hurricane Vineyards, Nick?” I pointed.

  “It is.” He didn’t follow my motion. Instead, he strolled to the center of the verandah. “Continuing on. Bailey, there will be plenty of flowers. I see red roses and white gerbera daisies. Your bouquet should contain a smattering of thistle for texture.”

  “Love it.” Bailey followed him, lapping up his vision.

  “What do you think of a spray of balloons by the cake table?” He gestured to the imaginary spread.

  “You don’t think they’re too childish?”

  “Balloons? Never. They imply that you’re carefree. I’m also thinking of serving appetizers and wine prior to the wedding, to put guests in the celebratory mood.”

  Each word Nick uttered earned a murmur of approval from my pal.

  I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at Hannah. Why was she spying on Nick? That’s what it felt like—spying. Choosing to defuse the situation, I waved at her.

  Hannah released the binoculars and let them dangle on the strap around her neck. With venomous force, she seized a long-handled tool—a shovel, by the glint of it—and began digging.

  Turning, I said, “Nick, what’s up with—”

  But he and Bailey had exited the verandah.

  • • •

  On the way back to the shop, Bailey and I
dropped Nick’s housekeeper at the bus stop. When she exited the VW, Bailey launched into boisterous praise of Nick’s taste and vision. I considered attaching cement boots to her ankles for the next few days or weeks. That might be the only way to keep her glued to planet Earth. Unwilling to spoil her mood, I chose not to mention seeing Hannah having a snit at the property line. Whatever was bothering her was between her and Nick and would have no affect on Bailey’s wedding. None.

  When we arrived at the Cookbook Nook at half past four, I was surprised to see Sean Beaufort browsing the kitchenware items. He was admiring a pair of swan salt and pepper shakers, their necks intertwined. He looked quite stylish in a navy blue doublet and trunk hose. I didn’t see his wife anywhere. A dozen other shoppers roamed the aisles. Tina was tending to a line of three purchasers at the register.

  Bailey handed me her purse and said, “Would you mind stowing this for me? I need to think.”

  “About?”

  “Tito and me and the wedding and . . . you understand.” She moved to the vintage kitchen table, perched on a chair, and immediately started to connect the dragon-related pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.

  “Have fun,” I said. In my book, there is nothing like creative concentration to help a person sort through life’s issues.

  I placed our purses beneath the cash register, told Tina that I’d help her in a second, and sauntered to the children’s corner to give Tigger a scratch. He was beneath the crafts table, clawing the carpet near the feet of three children who were icing mini scones. His festive Robin Hood hat and green vest lay discarded in the corner.

  “Are you okay, pal?” I asked. He threw me a mischievous look and continued his attack. Soon I would have to address his uncharacteristically bad behavior—or replace the carpet.

  I rose, brushed off my hands, and approached Sean. “Hi, there. We didn’t meet the other day at your pottery stall, or later at the taping of the fair-speak video. I’m—”

  “Jenna!” Dolly entered at a pace, the skirt of her lime green fair ensemble swishing to and fro. Her arms were loaded with garlands and accessories. “Where do you want me to set up?”

  Oops. Due to the hoopla about helping Bailey, I’d lost track of time and had forgotten about Dolly’s headwear decorating clinic.

  “There.” I pointed to the children’s table. “Bailey will help you.” I refocused on Sean. “I apologize. As I was saying, I’m Jenna Hart. I run the Cookbook Nook.”

  “Nice to meet you.” His nose was tinged red, as if he’d been sneezing, but his eyes were bright and his gaze direct. “What a great place. My wife would love everything in it, especially the dessert cookbooks. She’s a cookie fiend.”

  As slim as Melody was, I doubted she ate sweets of any kind. “Where is she?” I asked.

  “At the fair teaching a class. I’m”—he jiggled the set of swans—“buying her a surprise. She collects swan things. One of our customers told me you carried these in the shop. I’m so glad you hadn’t sold out of them.”

  “I’ve heard of all sorts of collections but never swans. Is that what inspires her to make long-necked pottery?”

  “It is. She has a Swarovski swan, a Murano swan, a Lladro black swan.” He ticked the names off on his fingertips. “She’s picked them up everywhere we’ve lived.”

  “Her pottery is beautiful, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m thinking of taking a class.”

  “I hope you will.” Holding on to the swans, he navigated through the aisles to the dessert cookbooks.

  I followed. “How long have you two been married?”

  “A while.”

  “You live in San Francisco, I heard.”

  “We do now.”

  “Where did you move from?”

  “We’ve been all over the map.”

  “Tell me something, Sean. I’ve never used Airbnb. How do you like staying in Pepper Pritchett’s place?”

  “We love it. Melody especially likes the backyard with its fresh herbs and vegetables. She enjoys cooking.” He pointed at the cookbooks. “Which one should I get her?”

  “If she’s a dessert nut, how about The Cookies & Cups Cookbook: 125+ sweet & savory recipes reminding you to Always Eat Dessert First.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  I smiled. “Most cookbooks have extraordinarily long titles. The pictures in this book are worth the purchase.” I pulled a copy from the shelf and handed it to him. “Pepper told me you stayed at her place before. By yourself.”

  “I did. To check out Crystal Cove. Melody wanted to come, but she couldn’t. She had scheduled classes in the city. She didn’t want to let her students down, you know?” He flipped through the pages of the cookbook and stopped at a photograph of chocolate chip cookies, one half eaten. “Nice,” he said, showing it to me, and then continued browsing. “I came to do some recon. I wanted to know what we were getting into. We hadn’t attended a Renaissance Fair in a while, but Melody really wanted to do this one.”

  “Did she enjoy making the fair-speak video?”

  “Mm-hm,” he mumbled.

  “A couple of customers who came in this morning watched it at the venue on the Pier and loved it.”

  “Good to know.” He glanced at his watch. “Gee, I’ve got to get going. Could you ring me up?”

  “Sure.” I slipped behind the sales counter and took control of the register. Tina had finished with her three customers. “It was lovely that you sent Melody that scroll of poetry last night. My boyfriend Rhett gave me one. It brought tears to my eyes. Are they all Shakespearean sonnets?”

  “No.”

  “Really? You were able to make up your own? What did you say?”

  He cocked his head. “That’s sort of private.”

  “Of course.” I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

  “No worries. I apologize for being abrupt. I’m in a rush to get back.” He thrust the swans and cookbook at me. “Ring these up, please.” He pulled cash from his wallet and set it on the counter.

  I enfolded the swans in tissue, sealed the package with a store sticker, and set them and the cookbook into a pretty gift bag. I tied the handles with blue raffia ribbon and handed the bag to Sean. “Here you go. If there’s anything else . . .”

  “I almost forgot. Melody wanted a vegetarian cookbook. No need to help me. I’ll find something.” He walked to the natural foods section to peruse the shelves.

  I joined Dolly and Bailey at the kitchen table. Bailey had abandoned the jigsaw puzzle and was helping Dolly smooth the ribbons. I sorted beads. A few spilled into the wrong slots in the Plexiglas containers. “Dolly, lots of people have told me they’re coming to your workshop.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Her eyes said otherwise. They were blinking rapidly, as if she was doing her best not to cry.

  “Bailey!” Tina cried. “Telephone. Nick Baldini needs to talk to you.”

  Bailey grimaced. “Please don’t let it be bad news. Please, please, please don’t—”

  I swatted her arm. “Will you stop that? We were just there. Everything is fine. He probably wants to pin you down on wine selections. We neglected to do that.”

  Bailey hurried to answer.

  “Nick,” Dolly sighed as she continued to sort beads.

  “Is everything okay between you two?” I asked, not revealing that I’d already heard.

  “He and I broke it off. I was afraid he would. That’s why I met with your aunt yesterday. He’s been pulling away, you know? I hoped it was because he was busy with the fair.” She set a stack of bare garlands on one of the chairs. “He’s been doing them since he was a kid. He loves dressing up and doing the fair-speak thing. I love it, too.” She started to weave ribbon around one of the garlands. “Alas, our love ’twas not to be. If it were possible to win him back, I would. But I cannot. Woe is me.” Melodramatically, she waved a hand. “Got any ideas how to do it?” she asked, dropping the fair-speak.

/>   “No.” I didn’t have the heart to say that he’d found someone else. He and the woman hadn’t hooked up yet—he’d made that clear—but I didn’t want to give Dolly false hope.

  Bailey returned and sat down. “Phew. Cheese platter or no cheese platter. That is the question.”

  “It’s a no-brainer,” I said. “Cheese platter.”

  Bailey smirked. “That’s what I told him.”

  “Psst.” Dolly hitched her chin in the direction of Sean. “I don’t mean to gossip, but that guy and his wife are a little odd, don’t you think?”

  I said, “Pepper says they’re darling.”

  Dolly tsked. “Pepper has had her head in the clouds ever since she started dating the haberdashery guy.”

  “She’s dating the hat guy?” I asked.

  “With the Einstein hair?” Bailey hooted. “What a pair. He preens over his wares like they’re priceless jewels.”

  “Yes, he does. As for Sean and Melody, take it from me”—Dolly crossed her heart—“they are different. He treats her like she’s a porcelain doll, which is funny seeing as she makes delicate pottery.” She tapped my wrist. “By the way, I heard him say his wife was at the fair teaching, but I didn’t see her there as I was leaving.”

  A shadow loomed over Dolly and her wares. I glanced up. Sean was standing behind her. I gulped. Was he upset to hear his wife wasn’t where he expected her to be? He was holding a Medieval Tapestries Coloring Book as well as a copy of The Good Cook’s Book of Tomatoes: A New World Discovery and Its Old World Impact.

  “I’m ready to check out again,” he said. “Melody has become obsessed with Mrs. Pritchett’s ugly tomatoes as well as this coloring for adults fad.” He waved the tapestries book. “Honestly? Like she has extra time.”

  I breathed easier. If he had overheard Dolly’s account, he didn’t seem in the least perturbed. In fact, his face was one hundred percent neutral.

  Chapter 5

  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the night turns dark after Daylight Savings ends. As Bailey, Tito, and I were walking to the Pier, the sky turned as black as ink. If not for a smattering of stars and the glow of torches and lanterns lighting our path, the evening would feel eerie. The walk didn’t take long, but I was thankful to be wearing my comfortable fair sandals. I was equally thankful to have my dainty crocheted purse. It was the perfect size to hold the basics: comb, cell phone, tube of lip gloss, and keys.