For Whom the Bread Rolls Read online

  Met once more with silence, I hung up the phone. Returning to my original task, I made my way around the restaurant, offering refills of coffee. I’d only managed to fill two mugs when the phone rang again.

  “I’ll get it,” Sienna told me as she passed by.

  I paused to chat with a woman and her twin teenage daughters, taking down their orders and assuring them that they’d have their drinks in only a minute or two.

  “Who called?” I asked Sienna as I filled two tall glasses with iced tea.

  “There was no one there when I answered.”

  “The same happened to me a couple of minutes ago.” I was about to comment further when the phone rang again.

  I exchanged an uneasy glance with Sienna and answered the call. Once again, silence met my greeting. My stomach threatening to retie its earlier knot, I hung up.

  “Same thing?” Sienna asked.

  “Yes.”

  The phone rang yet again.

  I kept my voice cheerful as I answered, in case it was a legitimate call this time, although I doubted that it was. My suspicion was confirmed right away when no one responded to my greeting.

  “Hello?” I could no longer keep the irritation from creeping into my voice.

  This time I heard a faint snicker.

  With annoyance tensing my muscles, I hung up.

  Sienna fetched the two plates Tommy had just set on the ledge of the pass-through window. “Is that someone’s idea of a joke?”

  “Apparently,” I said as I picked up the glasses of iced tea. “And I can guess whose.”

  “Ida Winkler?”

  “I’d bet on it.”

  As Sienna delivered the plates to hungry patrons, I took the drinks to the newest customers and returned to the cash counter, where I grabbed the phone and punched in star-six-nine. After digging a pen out of the pocket of my apron, I scribbled down the number the computerized voice read out to me.

  Leigh was carrying a load of dirty dishes toward the kitchen as I hung up.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I said as she disappeared through the swinging door.

  I hoped that was true.

  Ivan had set three steaming plates on the ledge of the window, so I carefully picked them up and made my way over to the woman and her twin daughters. The phone rang again, but when I glanced over my shoulder I saw that Leigh was heading for the cash counter.

  “Here you are,” I told the diners as I set down a plate of blueberry crumble pancakes, followed by one with s’mores crêpes and another with churro waffles.

  The customers thanked me and I left them tucking into their meals.

  “Is there a prankster at work?” Leigh asked when I returned to the cash counter.

  “I’m guessing you got the silent caller too.” When she confirmed that, I held up the page from my notepad with the phone number written on it. “It must be Ida, but I’m going to do a reverse lookup on the number to be sure.”

  “That woman,” Leigh said through clenched teeth. “Something needs to be done.”

  The phone rang again and we both glared at it for a second before I answered. As soon as I’d ascertained that it wasn’t a genuine call, I hung up.

  “Enough is enough.” I unplugged the base of the phone.

  Since The Flip Side didn’t do takeout, I wasn’t too worried about missing any legitimate calls that would lead to lost business. Leigh and I returned to our duties, but part of my mind remained with the annoying calls. As soon as I had a chance, I left the front of the house in Leigh and Sienna’s hands and shut myself into the office. I wasted no time going on the Internet and doing a reverse check on the caller’s number. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when Ida Winkler’s name popped up. Since she seemed so determined to cause problems for the restaurant, I figured it might be a good idea to consider upgrading the phone plan to have caller ID and call blocking.

  A fresh surge of annoyance rushed through me. I didn’t like the idea of Ida forcing me to spend money on security and phone plan upgrades. The fact that one woman could cause so much disruption frustrated me to no end, but at least I now had something to give to Sheriff Georgeson. The phone records wouldn’t prove that she was responsible for the vandalism, but maybe the calls would give Georgeson a reason to have a chat with Ida. Whether or not that would be effective, I didn’t know, but Leigh was right—something needed to be done about the woman.

  A glance at my phone told me it was almost two o’clock, so I headed out front and helped Leigh and Sienna clear tables as the last of the day’s diners left the pancake house for the sunny afternoon.

  “Looks like a hot one out there,” Leigh commented as I flipped the sign on the door.

  “It does,” I agreed.

  I took a moment to enjoy the view through the glass door. Although the restaurant was cool thanks to air-conditioning, shimmering waves of heat rose from the paved promenade as the sun beat down, unusually intense thanks to the current heat wave. I hoped to join the sunbathers on the beach before long, but first I had to wrap up my workday.

  A few minutes later I said goodbye to Leigh and Sienna as they set off for home, and I spent the next hour or so cleaning and getting the place in tip-top condition for the next day. When I was done, I paused near the cash counter and surveyed the dining area. At this time of year the large stone fireplace was home to a big bouquet of fresh flowers rather than crackling flames, but the effect was still cheery. With dark wood beams providing a contrast to the white ceiling, the pancake house had plenty of cozy charm all year round.

  After disposing of a few fallen petals from the colorful bouquet, I emptied the cash register, locking enough money in the office safe for the next day’s cash float. By that time Tommy had left and Ivan was finishing up in the kitchen. I said a quick goodbye to the chef and set off on foot for the bank.

  Within minutes of being outside, I was feeling the heat. I’d been comfortable in jeans in the air-conditioned restaurant, but now I was on my way to sweltering. Fortunately the bank was cool inside, giving me a short respite from the heat. Once back out in the sunshine, I made my way along Main Street. Halfway down the block, I paused outside an antiques shop. I’d already paid several visits to the store since my move to Wildwood Cove, once to purchase a beautiful cheval mirror that now stood in my bedroom, and other times simply to browse. I hesitated on the sidewalk, eager to get home and take a dip in the ocean, but after only a second or two I stepped inside the shop.

  “Good afternoon, Marley,” the proprietor said, his head poking up over a shelf displaying china dishes and knickknacks.

  I smiled at the balding man. “How are you today, Mr. Gorski?”

  “Very well, thank you.” He came out from behind the shelf, adjusting his round spectacles on his nose. “What can I help you with today?”

  “I’m just browsing for now.”

  He nodded as the shop phone rang. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

  I assured him that I would and he hurried off to answer the phone.

  Walking slowly up and down the aisles, I ran my eyes over the assortment of antiques on display. Although I’d browsed through the shop before, it was crowded with such a variety of items that I always spotted something new. When I reached the end of the second aisle, I paused, eyeing several lamp bases set on the top shelf. While cleaning out a second-floor room of my inherited Victorian, I’d found a beautiful glass lampshade. Despite a further search of the house, however, I hadn’t come up with a base to go with it.

  Carefully taking one of the lamp bases down from the shelf, I inspected it more closely, then looked at the price tag. Mr. Gorski wasn’t asking much for it and I thought it might go well with the lampshade I had at home. As far as I could tell, the base was from the same era as the shade, and I thought its mahogany bronze finish would complement the glass nicely.

  Deciding to take the lamp base home with me, I paid for it and went on my way, soon l
eaving Main Street for Wildwood Road, which led the way out to the edge of town, following the curve of the coastline.

  By the time I reached my driveway, I was longing for a cold drink and a swim in the ocean. The large fir trees planted along the edge of the road gave me some shade for a moment or two, but soon I was out in the full sun again as I followed the gravel driveway toward the rambling blue-and-white Victorian.

  Temporarily forgetting my discomfort, I smiled at the house. With a tower at one front corner, gingerbread trim, and front and back porches, the house was full of character. I still had trouble believing that it was really mine, and for the umpteenth time I sent up a silent thank you to Cousin Jimmy for passing it on to me.

  As I spotted my orange tabby, Flapjack, sitting in the front window, my smile brightened. He was a sweet cat, and I enjoyed having him as my companion and housemate.

  I was nearly at the house—approaching from an angle—when I glimpsed a bald eagle soaring low over the ocean. I set my bag and lamp base down on the front porch before heading for the beach at the back of the house, hoping for a closer look at the majestic bird. Perching on a log, I shaded my eyes and watched as the eagle glided around in a large circle before turning inland.

  As the beautiful bird disappeared beyond a grove of fir trees, I noticed a familiar form walking along the beach.

  “Patricia!” I called out.

  The dark-haired woman paused and turned around. When she saw me, she smiled and waved, retracing her steps. I hopped off the sun-bleached log and crossed the sand to meet her.

  “Hi, Marley,” Patricia greeted. “Done work for the day?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “And looking forward to a dip in the ocean.” My eyes strayed longingly to the sparkling water.

  “It’s warm today, isn’t it? But beautiful.”

  I agreed on both counts. “I was wondering if you’re going to be selling any of your driftwood art at the market this weekend,” I said. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

  Patricia—Sienna’s mother—had a talent for carving animals out of driftwood, and I’d seen several of her pieces on display at her bed-and-breakfast three properties away from my own.

  “I will,” she said. “But I can show you more pieces anytime.”

  “I’m hoping to stop by the market at some point, so I’ll start there, but if I can’t make it for some reason I might just take you up on that.”

  We chatted for another minute or two until I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust in my jeans and graphic tee. Lifting my curly hair off the back of my neck, I said goodbye to Patricia and headed back around the house to the front porch. When I reached the base of the steps, I stopped short, having trouble believing what I was seeing.

  Although my tote bag still sat on the porch, the lamp base I’d set next to it was gone. I turned on my heel, searching the property with my eyes. A flicker of movement beyond the fir trees lining the road caught my attention. Without pausing to think, I broke into a run, charging toward the trees.

  Ducking beneath branches, I worked my way through the trees, my sneakers scuffing the dirt and dried needles on the ground. When I broke free of the tree line, I came to an abrupt stop as an old and rusting brown car pulled away from the side of the road and took off with a squeal of tires.

  Breathing hard from the heat and my growing anger, I stared after the vehicle as it disappeared around a bend, heading toward town.

  I didn’t doubt that the driver was responsible for my missing lamp base.

  And based on the brief glimpse I’d caught of her, I also didn’t doubt that the thief was Ida Winkler.

  Chapter 3

  After reporting the theft to the sheriff’s department I stormed up to my bedroom, where I traded my hot clothes for cutoffs and a tank top. I twisted my brown curls up onto the back of my head, securing them with a hair clip. Although I felt immediately cooler, I was still fuming about Ida Winkler and her latest act of mischief.

  Flapjack found me in my bedroom and rubbed up against my bare legs, purring and meowing at me. Some of my ire drained away as I scooped the cat up into my arms. His purring intensified and he bumped his head against my chin.

  “I’m glad to see you too, Jack,” I told him.

  I buried my face in his fur and listened to the rumbling of his purr for another moment before setting him back down on the floor.

  “Thanks, buddy. I feel better already.”

  Flapjack blinked up at me and then padded his way out of the bedroom.

  I followed after him and reached the main floor just as a sheriff’s department cruiser pulled up to the house. I met Deputy Kyle Rutowski out on the front porch and explained to him what had happened.

  “I’m sure it was Ida Winkler,” I said once I’d told him about the vehicle that had taken off in a hurry right after the theft. “Same with all the problems at The Flip Side.”

  “The vandalism?” Rutowski checked.

  I nodded and added, “She made a bunch of prank calls to the pancake house this morning too. I did a reverse lookup on the number and it was hers.”

  “I understand there’s no proof linking Ms. Winkler to the other incidents.”

  “Not the one at the pancake house,” I conceded. “But I’m sure she was the driver of the car.”

  “Did you get the license number?”

  With satisfaction, I recited it to him from memory. Finally, there was something more concrete to link Ida to my troubles. Once the sheriff’s department determined that the car I’d seen belonged to Ida, that—as well as my glimpse of her—would place her near the scene of the theft. Even if they couldn’t arrest her, maybe they could at least put some pressure on her. That might not be enough to put an end to her shenanigans, but I sure hoped it would.

  Rutowski assured me that he’d look into the matter and took his leave.

  I sank down onto the porch steps as he drove off, my mind troubled. If the police weren’t able to arrest Ida or warn her off, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Vandalism, prank calls, theft—it was all getting to be too much. I didn’t believe she’d succeed in ruining The Flip Side’s business, but she was already succeeding in causing me plenty of frustration. It irked me that she was getting under my skin, and I could feel my earlier anger returning.

  I was still sitting on the porch steps when a silver pickup truck turned in to the driveway. As it pulled to a stop in front of the house, I got to my feet, forgetting my annoyance, a smile spreading across my face. My boyfriend, Brett Collins, climbed out of the truck and I hurried over to greet him. Not waiting to say anything, I rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. As soon as our lips touched, I forgot about everything except him. He pulled me closer and I slid my arms around him. By the time we broke apart a moment later, the tension in my muscles had disappeared and my smile was even brighter than before.

  “Wow,” Brett said with a grin. “That was some hello.”

  I brushed a curl of blond hair off his forehead and met his eyes, the same gorgeous shade of blue as the summer sky above us. “I’m really glad to see you.”

  “Same here.”

  I registered the fact that he’d arrived in his pickup truck rather than the cube van he used for his lawn and garden care business.

  “All finished work for the day?” I guessed.

  “Yep.” He rested his hands on my hips. “And I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Although I’d been back in Wildwood Cove for a few weeks now, we’d both been so tied up with our respective businesses that it had been hard to see as much of each other as we wanted. We’d made time here and there, but I still longed for more of his company.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “That bad?”

  I gave him a brief overview of the vandalism at the pancake house and the theft from my front porch.

  A crease appeared between Brett’s eye
brows. “Ida’s really taking things too far.”

  “You can say that again. I reported everything to the sheriff’s department. Hopefully things will get better soon.” I looked into his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. “For now, let’s forget about Ida Winkler.”

  The crease between his eyebrows smoothed out and he grinned. “Good plan.”

  “Did you bring your swim trunks?”

  “I did.”

  “Good,” I said, feeling the happiest I had all day, “because I’m dying to get in the ocean.”

  Less than ten minutes later we’d changed into our swimsuits, applied sunscreen, and claimed a spot on the beach. Although the majority of swimmers and sunbathers were closer to town, there were still a few people here and there along this stretch of the cove. Brett and I managed to claim a relatively quiet spot though, and as soon as we’d dropped our towels on a log, we made a beeline for the water.

  The tide was on its way out and we had to cross a wet sandbar before reaching the water’s edge. When the first wave lapped over my bare feet, I relished its refreshing, cool touch. As I ventured out deeper into the ocean, the water reaching above my knees, I slowed my pace. The water had gone from refreshing to chilly, almost numbing my legs, a stark contrast to the rest of my sun-heated skin.

  Brett plunged into the water ahead of me, not hesitating in the least before diving into an oncoming wave, submerging completely before reappearing seconds later. Knowing he’d tease me if I waited any longer, I took a deep breath—partly to fill my lungs and partly to steel myself for the imminent blast of cold—and dove beneath the water. The ocean enveloped me, the temperature a shock even though I’d tried to prepare myself for it. I broke through the surface seconds later, gasping from the cold.

  Brett laughed. “Nice and refreshing, huh?”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said, wiping dripping curls out of my face. But he was right. Although chilly at first, the water felt great.

  I swam out to meet Brett, the waves gently lifting and dropping me. When I reached his side, I saw him eyeing a clump of kelp bobbing on the surface of the water a few feet away. Memories of summer days in my teens spent with Brett and his friends surfaced, and I knew what was coming.