A Wrinkle in Thyme Page 2

  I climbed into the van, and Brett shut the door before jogging around to the driver’s side.

  “Her family has always kept a house here, one of those big Victorians on Orchard Lane,” he continued as he buckled up his seatbelt. “She and her husband spend a few weeks in town each year. They’ve got a small office on Main Street, but the general consensus is that they like to keep one toe in Wildwood Cove not so much because they have any affection for the town, but because they like to feel like big fish in this small pond of ours.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, thinking back over my brief encounter with Evangeline. “They like to throw their money around and act like they rule the roost.”

  “Exactly.” Brett guided the van out of the alley and turned onto the street.

  “I’ve seen them driving that Ferrari around town. Way too fast.”

  “They make sure they’re hard to miss. I think they’d like to believe we all envy them.”

  “Does anyone?” I asked, finding it hard to believe that anybody would. I hadn’t found the couple the least bit enviable.

  “I sure don’t,” Brett said. “I’ll take pizza over caviar any day.”

  “Same here.” My stomach grumbled. “Speaking of pizza…”

  Brett grinned at me. “I already called in a takeout order. One vegetarian, one pepperoni. We’ll pick them up on our way home.”

  “Forget Ferraris and Valentino gowns,” I said. “You, Brett Collins, are priceless.”

  Chapter Two

  I’d never seen Richard and Evangeline at my seaside pancake house, and that didn’t surprise me. I had a sneaking suspicion that the restaurant wouldn’t live up to Evangeline’s standards, despite the scrumptious food whipped up by The Flip Side’s chef, Ivan Kaminski, and his assistant, Tommy Park.

  Even if the couple had dropped by the morning after I’d met them at the museum, there wouldn’t have been room for them. We were in the middle of the breakfast rush, which was even busier than usual. I figured that was thanks to the beautiful spring weather that was already hinting at the summer to come. It had drawn people out of their houses to stroll, jog, cycle, and seek out a tasty breakfast. The morning sunshine was so bright and warm that I’d put four small tables out front of the restaurant. It was early May, and I hadn’t expected to put tables outside for another couple of weeks or so, but the beautiful morning had inspired me to do it today.

  It had turned out to be a good idea. Every table, inside and out, was currently occupied. The large number of early diners kept me and my staff on our toes. Ivan and Tommy kept the pancakes, crêpes, and waffles coming, while I helped to serve customers, along with Leigh Hunter, The Flip Side’s full-time waitress, and Sienna Murray, a high school senior who worked at the pancake house on weekends.

  Leigh paused by the front door, which I’d propped open to let in the gentle sea breeze. “I smell summer in the air,” she said, drawing in a deep, appreciative breath before continuing on her way to the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates.

  “It can’t be summer yet!” Sienna said, sounding mildly alarmed.

  Her reaction took me by surprise. She usually couldn’t wait for summer to arrive. Before I had a chance to ask her about it, she made a beeline for the pass-through window where Tommy had just set three plates, two laden with stacks of pancakes and one with a generous slice of Thyme for Breakfast Frittata—a tasty new addition to the menu—and a side of fruit salad.

  I spent the next several minutes rushing to and fro, taking orders, delivering meals, and cleaning tables as soon as they were vacated. No table stayed empty for more than a couple of minutes before new customers swooped in to claim it.

  I loved how busy we were, especially since it wasn’t even the height of tourist season yet. The Flip Side was thriving and was one of the most popular restaurants in town. That thrilled me to pieces, but it also had me thinking about the future. If we were this run off our feet in May, we might have trouble keeping up when vacationers flocked to our charming seaside town in a few weeks’ time. If any one of my employees were to get sick, we’d be in a bind.

  Plus, Sienna would be heading off to college at the end of August. I didn’t like to think about her leaving Wildwood Cove—she was a good friend as well as an employee—but I knew I’d have to find someone to replace her. Judging by our current booming business, I might have to hire more help even before her departure.

  All thoughts about staffing would have to wait, though. At the moment, I had my hands full—literally and figuratively—and had to stay focused if I wanted to keep my customers happy.

  “Are you looking forward to Wild West Days, Marley?” Gary Thornbrook asked as I set plates of blueberry pancakes in front of him and his friend Ed.

  Despite the full house, the two men had managed to snag their favorite table. They showed up at the pancake house at least twice a week and always ordered the same meals. They’d been doing so for years, starting long before I’d inherited the business from my grandmother’s cousin.

  “I’m definitely excited,” I said. “It sounds like it’s going to be a fun event. I hear the two of you will be taking turns playing the part of the sheriff.”

  “You heard right.” Ed grinned. “You should see our costumes. We went all out.”

  “We’ve got the clothes and pistols,” Gary said. “Just props, of course, but they look good.”

  “What about the shiny badge?” I asked.

  Ed poured syrup over his pancakes. “Of course. Can’t forget that.”

  “Sounds like you’re all ready to go,” I remarked.

  “We’re hopin’ to have us a hog-killin’ time,” Gary said with a phony drawl.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Ed cut into his stack of pancakes. “Hopefully we’ll do the real sheriff proud.”

  “I’m sure you will.” I checked their mugs and noticed that they could do with a refill. “Let me grab the coffee pot.”

  On my way back to their table, I made a couple of stops to refill a few other diners’ mugs. I loved how many familiar faces I saw at the pancake house each day. Working there had allowed me to connect with the community when I’d first moved to town, and my roots were now firmly planted.

  “How are things going at the museum?” Gary asked when I returned.

  “Everything’s been moved to the new location,” I said as I topped up their coffee mugs. “Now it’s just a matter of getting everything organized and set up.”

  “Squatters!”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when a man at the table behind me practically spat out the word. If the coffee pot hadn’t been nearly empty by then, I would have spilled the hot liquid all over myself. When I took in the sight of the man’s angry scowl, I edged away from him, not sure if he was in his right mind or not. I was pretty sure I’d seen him at The Flip Side before, but I didn’t know his name. He was short and stout, with thinning dark hair and beady eyes.

  “Hardly,” Ed said to the man, unfazed by his ire. “You know the court held that the house belongs to the museum fair and square, Angus.”

  The man stood up like a shot, his chair skittering across the floor. “There’s nothing fair about it! That house should be mine!”

  “But it isn’t,” Gary said calmly.

  “Thanks to that woman’s funny business,” Angus grumbled. “She’s a crook, and she’s going to wish she’d never crossed me.”

  He stormed off toward the cash register, where Sienna was counting change for an elderly couple.

  “Which woman?” I whispered, keeping an eye on Angus as he handed money to Sienna.

  Fortunately, he didn’t give her any trouble. He paid quickly and stomped out of the restaurant.

  “Jane Fassbender,” Gary replied, his voice as low as my own.

  Several diners were waiting for their meals, so I couldn’t linger, but I
desperately wanted to talk more about what had just transpired.

  I got my chance to do so about ten minutes later when I stopped by Ed and Gary’s table to refill their coffee mugs again.

  “What was all that about earlier?” I asked as I topped up Ed’s coffee.

  “You mean with Angus?” he asked.

  Joan Crenshaw, another senior citizen who was also a frequent customer, spoke up from a nearby table. “Sour grapes.”

  Her breakfast companion, Eleanor Crosby, nodded in agreement, as did Ed and Gary.

  “Gwyneth McIvor, the woman who bequeathed the house to the museum, was Angus’s aunt,” Eleanor explained.

  “Angus thought he should inherit the house,” Joan added.

  “An unjustified sense of entitlement, if you ask me.” Eleanor shook her head before cutting into her breakfast frittata.

  “You’re not wrong.” Gary nudged his mug closer to me so I could refill it.

  “He wasn’t close to his aunt?” I guessed.

  “He barely had anything to do with her,” Joan said. “Even when her health took a sharp downward turn in the last couple months of her life. I think it was more than generous of Gwyneth to leave him the ten thousand dollars that she did.”

  The others all nodded in agreement again.

  Ed took a sip of coffee and set down his mug with a thud. “If Angus Achenbach wants a house and more money, he should work for it.”

  I glanced around the pancake house, noting that I wasn’t needed elsewhere at the moment. “He doesn’t have a job?”

  “Can’t seem to keep one for more than a few weeks at a time,” Gary said. “It’s always been that way. It got so no one would hire him here in town.”

  Ed speared a piece of pancake with his fork. “Probably because he’s so lazy.”

  That statement elicited sounds of agreement from the others.

  “He’ll get over the situation with Gwyneth’s house,” Joan said. She paused with her coffee mug halfway to her mouth. “Eventually.”

  I left them to finish their meals, attending to the other diners in the restaurant. The rush tapered off not long after, but we didn’t have much of a lull before things picked up again around lunchtime. When two o’clock rolled around, I shut and locked the front door with a small sigh of relief. As much as I loved running the pancake house, I’d been on my feet since six in the morning, and they were letting me know that they wanted a rest.

  Leigh and Sienna were still cleaning up the tables, so I ignored the aching in my feet and gave them a hand. Leigh headed out soon after, wanting to get home so she could keep her promise to her three daughters to take them to the beach that afternoon. I wished I could spend some time on the beach too, preferably with a good book, but I knew I likely wouldn’t have a chance to do that today. I’d get my beach time another day, though. That was one of the many perks of living right next to the ocean. All I had to do was step out my back door to hit the sand and surf.

  I loaded the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned the machine on, then pulled a stool up to the island in the middle of the kitchen and sat down, finally giving my feet a rest.

  “What a day,” I said as I watched Ivan and Tommy do the last of their cleanup.

  Tommy shut a cupboard door. “I think we fed an entire army.”

  I tugged the elastic out of my hair, releasing my ponytail. My curls were probably all frizzy, but I didn’t care. “It sure feels like it.”

  “You work too hard,” Ivan grumbled, his characteristic scowl firmly in place.

  “The rest of you work just as hard as I do,” I said. “Maybe even harder.”

  Ivan pinned me with his dark stare.

  “But you’re right,” I added before he could lecture me. “I need to hire more staff. I think it would be good to have someone part-time to help you guys in the kitchen, someone who can step in if either of you get sick. What do you think?”

  I directed the question to Ivan. The kitchen was his domain. Even though I was his boss, I didn’t want to step on his toes, and I respected his opinion.

  “It’s a good idea,” he said as he hung a pot on a hook above the island.

  I shifted my gaze to Tommy.

  He turned on the faucet at the large sink so he could wash his hands. “I wouldn’t say no to extra help.”

  “We need another server, too,” Ivan reminded me in his gruff voice.

  “Sooner rather than later,” I agreed.

  Sometime in the next few days, I needed to get busy and draft help-wanted ads to put in the local newspaper. Not today, though. I had to swing by the grocery store on the way home. Brett was having a rare poker night at our place, and I’d promised to pick up some snacks to feed our guests.

  After saying goodbye to Ivan and Tommy, I made my way down the hall toward the office, where I’d left my tote bag. Before I got there, I spotted Sienna hovering inside the small break room.

  “Hey,” I said. “I thought you’d already gone.” I realized that she seemed anxious, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Is everything okay?”

  She hesitated for half a second before smiling, although the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “Everything’s fine. See you soon!”

  She zipped past me and out the back door, barely giving me a chance to say goodbye.

  I remained standing in the middle of the hallway, puzzled and a bit worried.

  Sienna might have claimed that everything was fine, but she wasn’t quite herself.

  Chapter Three

  I consulted my phone as I pushed my cart down an aisle of Wildwood Cove’s only grocery store. I’d texted Brett earlier, asking if there was any specific type of snacks he wanted me to pick up for his poker night. I smiled when I read his reply.

  Nachos. And nachos.

  I wasn’t planning to take part in the poker game, but I did intend to enjoy some of the food, and I was completely behind Brett’s request. Cheese-laden nachos were one of my weaknesses, along with chocolate, sweet tea, and anything cooked by Ivan. I’d definitely have to go running tomorrow, especially since Brett and I had eaten pizza the day before, but tonight I would indulge.

  Adding two large bags of nachos to the grocery cart, I moved along to the potato chips and grabbed some of those as well. We had ripe avocados at home for the guacamole, but I filled my cart with veggies, dip, salsa, black olives, and two types of soda.

  I maneuvered down the next aisle, heading for the dairy products. I scanned the baking supplies as I made my way to the back of the store, trying to think if we needed anything from the shelves I was passing. I didn’t think we did, so I picked up my pace. When I reached the refrigerated display of dairy products, I parked my cart off to the side and checked out the yogurt selection. A woman a few feet away from me was standing in front of the milk and cream, her grocery cart filled halfway. She wore black yoga pants and a hot pink top. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a high ponytail, which she flipped over her shoulder while she held her cellphone to her ear.

  “I can’t believe they gave her the promotion,” she was saying into her phone, indignation underscoring her words. “I’m way more suited for the position.” She paused and placed a hand on her hip, presumably listening to the person on the other end.

  “I know!” she said after a moment. “And she’s been such a pain about Wild West Days. She didn’t volunteer to be on the organizing committee, and yet she has the gall to tell those of us who did that we’re doing things wrong! She thinks everything needs to be historically accurate. Nobody cares about that! The town just wants to have fun!”

  I selected a carton of strawberry yogurt from the shelf. I couldn’t help but hear the woman’s side of her conversation, but I tried to act like I wasn’t paying any attention. That became harder when she mentioned a familiar name.

  “But everyone thinks Jane Fassbe
nder is the greatest thing since sliced bread.” She finally chose a jug of milk and plunked it into her cart. Still holding her phone to her ear, she steered her cart around me.

  “You’re right,” she said after a pause. “Things will turn out as they should. One day soon, that job will be mine.”

  She disappeared down the canned goods aisle, her voice fading away.

  Whoever she was, she sure didn’t think much of Jane. From what she’d said, I figured she worked at the local community center. Although Jane was overseeing the museum’s operations at the moment, that was a volunteer position. She also worked full-time at the community center. I thought I remembered hearing that Jane had recently been promoted to the position of director. That had to be what the woman on the phone was talking about.

  Maybe she was just bitter about getting passed over for the promotion, but she didn’t seem to be a fan of Jane. If she worked at the community center, she probably knew Jane far better than I did, but since volunteering at the museum over the past few weeks, I hadn’t found any real reason to dislike her. Still, I could see how she might rub some people the wrong way. She was a woman who knew how she wanted things done, and she wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion. She’d been a bit bossy at times during the museum’s move, but I’d figured she just wanted to keep things running smoothly. It was entirely possible that I hadn’t yet experienced all aspects of her personality.

  Shrugging off what I’d overheard, I grabbed a block of cheddar cheese and headed for the checkout counter, eager to get home to spend the evening with Brett and some of our closest friends.

  * * * *

  “I think I’ve got a full house.” Brett’s younger sister, Chloe, spread her cards out on the kitchen table.

  The four guys sitting at the table with her leaned forward to inspect her hand. They all groaned and threw down their cards in defeat.

  “I thought you’d never played poker before.” Her boyfriend, Kyle Rutowski, eyed her with suspicion.

  “I haven’t.” Chloe smiled like the cat that got the canary as she swept the money on the table over her way.