Sour Crime Donuts, page 3
“Sure. Our mayor was in here this morning, and he thought that green tea would go with the donuts.”
“That sounds good.”
I was apprehensive about a chef’s reaction to our donuts, but I reminded myself that taste was subjective. I knew they were good. I watched him take his first bites of peaches and cream, and then I almost held my breath while he tasted the donut underneath the other goodies.
I needn’t have worried. “Just right.” He looked and sounded sincere. “Your cooking matches the kitchen in your house.”
I cocked a thumb over my shoulder. “Our assistants do a lot of the cooking and decorating, and we all—along with my business partner Tom, who isn’t here today—devise and tweak our recipes.”
“I’m not surprised that you’re organized and a team player, not after I saw the manual you put together. And thank you for leaving tea, coffee, sugar, milk, and eggs in the house.”
“It’s only a few days’ worth, until you can shop.”
“It’s much appreciated.” He finished his donut and tea, and then asked me to point him toward Frisky Pomegranate. “You recommended it in your manual. It’s walking distance from here, right?”
“Yes. The street out front is Wisconsin Street. Turn left and walk north on that to where Oak Street ends at Wisconsin Street. Oak Street and our village square will be on your right. You can cut through the square. It’s actually a rectangle, and a rather large one, with so many trees you might think you’re in a forest. Well, almost. At the north end of the square, there’s a bandstand. Beyond that, you’ll see Frisky Pomegranate across the street.”
He stood. “I’ll tour your downtown on my way, get a feel for the place. I walked here from your house. Fallingbrook is picturesque, just the sort of place I imagined for my restaurant.”
He tossed a smile and a wave toward the kitchen, where Jocelyn and Olivia were undoubtedly pretending not to listen to us, and then he sauntered outside and turned north.
On the way to the dishwasher in the storeroom, I said to Olivia. “He isn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
Olivia blushed.
Jocelyn teased, “You could have taken a break from making dough for tomorrow and talked to him.”
Olivia retorted, “Maybe I didn’t want to. Besides, he’s renting Emily’s house for a month, right, Emily?”
“And maybe more. At the moment, it’s open-ended, though if someone wants to rent it starting near the end of September, I’ll need to find out if Glenn wants to stay longer.”
Olivia gave the dough she was kneading a solid thump with the heel of her hand. “I’m sure he’ll be back for more of our donuts.”
At four thirty, the other customers left. We locked the front door and tidied. During the night, four retired police officers, the Jolly Cops, would clean thoroughly, including the deep fryers.
We took off our aprons and hats and went into the office. Dep stood up from snoozing on the couch and stretched. I asked her, “Would you like to wait for me here or come with us to see the property that Izzy’s so excited about?”
Chapter 4
Dep must have forgotten that coming with us meant one of those dreaded rides in a car. She purred and twined around my bare ankles. I put her harness and leash on her.
We locked the doors, set the alarms, and left through the office to the back porch and the parking lot behind it.
Dep walked nicely on her leash but did not want to go near my small white SUV. I opened the door behind the driver’s seat. Olivia helped me remove Dep’s leash and put the suddenly stiff-legged cat into the carrier that I kept tethered to the rear seat belt.
Like her younger sister, Olivia had a magic touch with Dep. She ran around the car and took the seat next to Dep’s carrier. Jocelyn sat in front with me. Dep wailed, but before I pulled out of the alleyway from the parking lot and onto Wisconsin Street, Olivia unzipped the carrier enough to reach inside and pet Dep. The little cat’s cries diminished to grumbles, and we three humans were able to hear one another, as long as we spoke loudly. I told the others about Izzy removing peach skins and pits from our compost bin.
Jocelyn reached a conclusion similar to mine. “She’s going to grow trees from the peach pits.”
Olivia pointed out, “The plants from seeds don’t always come out like the parent plants. She could end up with hard and bitter peaches. But I admire her passion and optimism.”
Not very far north, we left Fallingbrook behind, and Wisconsin Street became County Road C. We traveled through sparsely populated, rolling countryside. Jocelyn consulted the map that Izzy had drawn on a napkin. “County Road H should be the next intersection.”
It was. I turned left, and we headed west. Still high in the sky, the sun wasn’t in our eyes. Meandering streams crossed former pastures, and then forests crowded against the road. Although it was still August, some maples already displayed bouquets of red leaves in their bright green crowns. The road dipped and curved, then gradually rose, and the forests bordering the road were composed mostly of pines, their needles dark.
We rounded a curve. An older, burgundy-colored compact sedan was parked on the right shoulder between the road and a ditch. Izzy was sitting on the car’s trunk.
I slowed and put on my turn signal.
Izzy slid off the car, jumped up and down, and waved both hands above her head. Her smile was huge. She pointed toward a pine-covered hill rising beyond the ditch.
I parked on the gravel shoulder about two car lengths behind her car. She ran to us.
I helped Olivia make certain that Dep couldn’t flee while we unzipped her carrier and snapped her leash onto her harness. Hugging the slightly ruffled cat, Olivia scrambled out of the car.
“Awww,” Izzy cooed, “what a darling!” She let Dep sniff her hand and then ran gentle fingers through the fur on Dep’s shoulders. Dep purred. Izzy exclaimed, “She likes me!”
I pointed at the hill beside us. “Is this the property you’re buying?”
Izzy waved her arm as if encompassing the entire hill. “Yes.”
Olivia stared up into the masses of needle-covered branches. “I see why people are worried that you’ll cut down trees. There’s nothing but trees.”
Izzy lifted Dep out of Olivia’s arms. “Not as many as it looks like from down here on the road. I’ll carry the kitty to keep her little paws off the gravel. Come on, I’ll show you.” Almost dancing in her excitement, she led us several yards past her car, and then she turned, faced back the way we’d come, and pointed with her left elbow toward the slope above us. A gap between trees was visible, just barely. No one driving quickly from the east, as we had, would notice it, but someone coming from the west might.
“See?” Izzy asked. “Years ago, there must have been a homestead up there. This is the beginning of the lane the settlers carved out of the hill for their horses and carriages. The original house and outbuildings or whatever are long gone, but the current owner maintained trails for ATVs so he could hunt here. I’ll need to have the former driveway repaired and widened, but for now, it’s an easy trail for walking. I won’t cut down the trees near the road, and the driveway will always be mostly hidden. I also won’t widen the driveway much, like not enough for transport trucks, just enough for things like small cube vans. Here, take the kitty. I’ll leap across the ditch, and then if she doesn’t want to walk, I can carry her again.”
I accepted my purring cat. “She’ll probably prefer to explore the ground.” I ran down the slope and leaped over a sluggish rivulet in the bottom of the ditch. Hanging on to Dep’s leash, I set her gently on the grassy ground. “I hope she won’t slow us down.”
Jocelyn grinned down at Dep, already investigating the stem of a milkweed. “If we get tired of her dawdling, I’ll carry her.”
Olivia joined us. “Or we can take turns.”
Walking backward, Izzy started up the trail in front of us. “We don’t have to explore the entire acreage, but I want to show you some of the level spots and the ponds.” We followed her more or less northeastward. The trail, stony but mostly carpeted in past years’ fallen pine needles, gradually ran uphill between towering pines and rocky outcroppings. After making a wide curve between boulders, the trail turned northwest. The pine needle carpeting thinned, the trees ended, and a huge sunlit meadow spread in front of us. Izzy made a sweeping gesture with one outstretched arm. “See? I know it’s rocky, and I’ll probably need to have some blasting done. But look over there near those trees.” A forest bordered the western edge of the meadow. “From here, you can only see the cattails on this side of it, but there’s the lowest pond.”
Olivia asked, “You’re buying all of this, from the road up to here and all the way to that pond?”
A mischievous dimple danced in Izzy’s cheek. “And more, a few yards into those woods over there. I won’t touch those trees. And I have more acres higher up, and more flattish meadows and ponds. And the spring that feeds the ponds.”
My mouth was probably gaping open. “And waterfalls, you told us. This is really impressive, Izzy. I understand why you’re excited. I don’t know much about the price of land out here, but after you buy this, are you sure you’ll be able to do everything else?”
Izzy put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m buying this land below market value. The owner wants to get rid of it, and undeveloped like this, it’s not worth a lot. The price of the land is only a fraction of what my grandfather sent me. I can make it work. I know I can.”
If determination, exhilaration, and persistence were enough, Izzy would succeed.
Her enthusiasm must have infected Jocelyn. She turned a cartwheel.
Izzy applauded. “I never expected a private gymnastics show from the great Jocelyn Portsmouth!”
Jocelyn brushed her hands together and shrugged. “I couldn’t help it.” She twirled, taking in our surroundings, and then announced, “Even if you didn’t want to build greenhouses, Izzy, this would be a great spot for a home.”
Izzy looked toward a red-winged blackbird taking off from cattails near the pond. “That could happen, too, if the business goes the way I hope, I mean, the way I plan. I feel sorry for the first homesteaders, though. It’s too stony for farming or even for grazing more than a few sheep or goats. And for now, I’ll continue renting a tiny home and living frugally. If I have to, I can sell the land. There’s at least one other person who wanted to buy it, but my bid won.” Looping her thumbs through imaginary overall straps, she strutted in a happy half circle. I couldn’t help smiling. And also wondering if I’d encouraged her imagination a bit too much when she was a little girl . . .
No, Emily, I told myself. There’s nothing wrong with following your dreams.
Olivia gazed southward. The road was down there, but the pines hid it from us. “Aren’t you afraid that the pines will grow too tall, and shade any greenhouses you put here?”
Izzy remained undaunted. “The TWIG people will see only the trees nearest the road, so if I lop off a few up here, they shouldn’t know. I’ll gate the driveway and”—she gazed toward the trail we’d taken—“uh-oh, speaking of intruders. What’s going on?”
Men shouted. Maybe they were down on the road, but they sounded closer, like they could have been on the trail leading up to where we stood.
Chapter 5
One man’s voice became higher, almost shrill as if squeezed by anger. Another voice was deep. It carried, seemingly without effort, up through the piney woods toward us. A loud dispute was an odd thing to hear in this isolated spot. Who had suddenly shown up here, and why were they yelling?
Izzy had mentioned that the current owner hunted on this property.
I picked up Dep. Cuddling her protectively, I gazed around. The sunny plateau offered no shelter. Hunters wouldn’t shoot because they saw something move before they knew what the something was, would they? We were probably safe.
Izzy obviously thought so. Shoulders back, she marched toward the sounds.
I breathed, “Wait!”
Izzy kept going.
Jocelyn tossed me a worried look and sprinted after Izzy. Beside me, Olivia gasped.
Shrugging, I turned toward Olivia. “We might as well all stay together.”
With a grim nod, she strode toward the other two.
Izzy and Jocelyn ran toward where the trail curved. They kept going. Trees blocked my view of them.
Izzy yelled, “Stop that!”
Olivia took off toward the shouting match and Izzy’s attempts to end it. Still clutching Dep, I sped my pace. Behind Olivia, I trotted around the uppermost wall of pines. Now the stand of trees completely hid the sunlit meadow from me. Pines also covered the downhill slope between me and the road, and I was in a canyon between rows of trees. The shift from sunlight to shade was so abrupt that I had to stop to distinguish shadows on the ground from obstacles that could have sent me sprawling, kitty and all, onto the needle-covered but rocky ground. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that one of the shadows was actually a cave-like niche at the base of a boulder just below the outer edge of the trail’s curve, and I again remembered that day with Izzy at Fallingbrook Falls and the fun of sneaking treasures into similar places when she wasn’t looking, and then watching her find them.
On the trail not far below me, the man with the shrill voice yelled, “Get off my property!”
Izzy and Jocelyn were close to the angry man and a taller man who, I guessed, was the one with the deep voice. Olivia pelted down the trail toward them.
Worried about what she, Izzy, and Jocelyn might be getting into, I hurried down the trail.
A middle-aged, slightly balding man stuck his index finger up, nearly into the face of the twenty-something man. “I told you. Get out!”
The men were dressed almost alike, in khakis, white polo shirts, and unscuffed leather loafers. The older man wore a casual but beautifully tailored navy blazer. The younger man wasn’t wearing socks, but the older man’s pants were longer, covering his ankles.
I had never seen these men before.
Neither of them appeared to be carrying a gun or a knife or even a fishing pole. With one hand, the older man held something that resembled a walking stick with a wheel at its base or a unicycle with no seat. Whatever it was, it could, I supposed, be used as a weapon. The clipboard under his other arm looked more benign.
Izzy stomped right up to the blustering older man. “This is not your property, Adam Nofftry.”
Now that my eyes had completely adjusted to the shade among the pines, I became alarmed at the color of Adam Nofftry’s heavily jowled face—red, verging on purple. He turned to Izzy and scowled. “Back off, Isabella Korinth. It’s not your property, and never will be.”
Izzy planted her fists on her hips. “Yes, it will. In fifteen and a half days. I have a contract.”
Adam shook the cane-like thing, lifting its wheel off the ground. The wheel spun in a lazy circle. “There are holes in that contract you could drive a bulldozer through. It’s illegal and you know it. My lawyers can flatten petty scammers like you. I will be the owner of this property, and I will develop it the way I want to.” Was Adam the developer our mayor was trying to stop? If so, I was beginning to understand Jerry’s motivation.
Izzy’s face was becoming disturbingly red.
The tall man seemed to notice. He ignored the rest of us, gazed at Izzy as if memorizing her features, and said calmly, “So, if no one in this group owns this property, then maybe we’re all trespassing.” His voice was gentle and so deep and almost musical that he could have been an actor or radio announcer. Or a singer. He had the earnest look and thin face of . . . I wasn’t sure what. A medieval scholar?
Izzy looked up at him. “I have permission to be here.” She had become, if anything, even redder, but her tone had softened. She waved to encompass Jocelyn, Olivia, and me. “And I’m allowed to bring friends and advisers.”
In my arms, Dep yawned.
Adam scoffed, “And a cat.”
The tall man asked Izzy, “Who does own this place?”
Izzy opened her mouth as if to tell him but seemed to change her mind. She folded her arms and thinned her lips. A sunbeam, softened by filtering pine branches, lit her blushing face, reminding me of the charming child at Fallingbrook Falls.
The younger man continued to stare at Izzy. “It’s beautiful. These woods, I mean. This whole hillside. At least, I guess it is, from what I’ve seen.”
Adam growled, “It’s none of your business, and I’m telling you that I’m going to own it.”
Izzy looked away from the tall man, shook her head, and repeated softly, “I’ve signed a contract.”
Again, Adam argued, “Not a legal one. It’s worth nothing.”
Izzy might have been about to contradict him, but the tall man sent her a concerned and apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I meant no harm. I saw other cars here and . . .” He waved a gnat or something away from his face. “I’m from . . . I came from Duluth and was just looking around. I thought I, um, was in a state forest, and this was a trailhead or something. I’ll go.” Blushing was apparently contagious, or maybe the day’s earlier heat had affected Adam, Izzy, and the tall man. To me, the shade beneath the sharp-scented pines was almost cool.
The tall man turned and started down the track. With his arms looking stiff and swinging only slightly, he walked with straight-backed dignity.
Watching him go, Olivia muttered so that only I would hear, “No flames!”
Confused, I cast a questioning look at her.
She grinned and whispered from one corner of her mouth, “Pants on fire.”
Silently filling in the beginning of the taunt, Liar, liar, I nearly lost my serious expression. The man striding away from us had sounded like he was making up a justification for being on the property Izzy was buying. Why had he really been there, and why didn’t he want to admit it?
Adam Nofftry began to look only marginally less like he was about to suffer a heart attack. All of us who worked at Deputy Donut kept our first aid certification up to date. I hoped we wouldn’t need to administer CPR to him. He snapped at Izzy, “I also have permission to be here.”
