Chapter 13
Paul’s Burger Shack was one of those great old places with a display of Coca-Cola memorabilia and pictures on the wall of all of the celebrities who had stopped in to eat. The restaurant even smelled like it should—sweetness from the ice cream and soda machine, grease from the fryer, the lingering hint of bacon. Childhood memories practically surrounded me as soon as I walked in the door. I ordered, then joined Bronson at the table.
“So what was up with that guy today?” Bronson asked almost the moment I sat down.
“He’s a friend.” I chose not to elaborate, if only to drive Bronson crazy.
“A friend. Really? Because the way he touched you looked more than friendly to me.” His beautiful mouth was set in a firm line. I used to love kissing that mouth. Now when I saw it, I could only think about whom else had enjoyed it.
I did my best to look unconcerned. “Sorry, you lost your right to be jealous when I caught you with Karen.”
His eyes narrowed and he rested his hands on each other on the tabletop. “I don’t remember you mentioning anyone named Shawn before.”
“I didn’t talk about everyone I knew from here. I haven’t seen him in years. Get over it.” I glanced at the menu board, not wanting to discuss my flirtation with Shawn. They announced my shake—that’s what I call super-fast service—and I jumped up to get it.
When I reached the front counter, I looked over my shoulder at Bronson. It was strange—I’d never felt so empowered when I dated him. Most of the time he made demands, and I agreed to what he wanted—not because he was mean or controlling so much as the fact that he was a bit of a whiner, and it was irritating dealing with him if he didn’t get his way. There were benefits to letting him have his way though, since a happy Bronson was so easy-going and fun to be with. Generous, articulate and I did mention something about him being a good kisser, right?
I waited until my order was ready: a burger and onion rings—some of the best on the planet—while I enjoyed my thick chocolate Oreo shake. My favorite. Of course, I’d be taking long power walks every day for weeks to work off the fat and calories, but I’d been pretty good lately. Or maybe not, I realized as I remembered the éclairs. And the brownies. And the cheesecake. I paused for a second to add up the calories. But it had been a stressful weekend, I finally decided, so I was entitled.
“You know that’s going to make you feel like a bloated sow,” Bronson pointed out when we were seated again at our table.
Tact was not one of his strong points—not in his personal relationships, anyway. “Not your problem anymore.” I took a large bite of the thick, juicy hamburger and almost purred in pleasure. It had been way too long since I’d eaten here.
“Fine.” He held up his hands as if I had yelled at him.
Well, maybe I had snapped a little. Who would blame me?
After a long moment passed and he was halfway through his own burger, he started talking. “So you actually like it here? I mean, I know you enjoy visiting, but to live in Silver Springs full time?” He looked around, as if unimpressed by anything he saw.
I became even more defensive. “Yes. It’s charming and friendly and I love it.”
He snorted, like he knew me so well. “You aren’t going to get bored?’
“Prescott is only twenty minutes away, and there’s plenty going on there. Phoenix is less than an hour, and there are tons of shows and restaurants there. But I doubt there’ll be much free time.” I knew enough about running a business to be certain I wouldn’t get days off or be able to take time to relax with any regularity.
“You already know how I feel about that. Not everyone is suited to be their own boss.” This time the words were soft, cajoling, as if he was trying to break an unfortunate truth to me.
“Yes, I know,” I said, putting ice in my voice. “And you’ve made it clear you think I can’t do it, so there’s no need to tell me again.” I hated that his words hit the mark. I’d never done anything like this. What if he was right and the bakery tanked?
I was grateful he didn’t seem to have an answer to that, or continue pounding on my already fragile ego. I decided it was time to turn the conversation to something less personal.
“We might as well get down to business,” I said when I’d finished swallowing a bite of onion ring. “The Goulds’ wedding is first, and the Tanners’ is mid-week, what—four days later?” I pulled out my notebook with the sketches and details. “While I’m there, I can make the flowers for the Fosters’ and McKennas’ events as well. Then my replacement only has to do the cake itself, and that should be no problem.” If he or she wasn’t a moron. I should probably have faith in Bronson to pick someone decent to fill my shoes, but then, he’d hired Karen, so his track record was far from sterling.
His hand covered mine and I pulled away, moving on. “Lenny can handle the rest of the cakes for the following month if he has to. He has my cell number, so remind him that he should feel free to call me with questions.”
He grabbed my hand and held on when I tried pulling it away again. “Tess, are you sure this is what you want? You’re not doing this because you’re upset with me?”
I looked him in the eye. “I’m absolutely sure about this.” Not. I was surprised that I managed to keep my gaze steady even as I again mourned what I’d thought I had with this man, and learned that I didn’t. I remembered the good times with him—they weren’t that far in the past, after all.
I’d loved Bronson, or had it just been what he represented that I loved? I wasn’t sure anymore. All I knew is that I deserved someone who didn’t think Karen was a valid substitute for me—for any length of time. Had it been my fault? I pushed that thought away. The worry had bothered me from the first, but didn’t deserve attention. Now if I could wipe out the doubts completely.
Having Shawn around took the edge off the pain because another man valued me for myself without consideration for whether it affected his business—and how sad and pathetic was that? But I needed to believe Bronson’s cheating wasn’t my fault, so Shawn’s attention was a balm to my ego.
When Bronson didn’t release my hand, I tried to tug away, but he held on tighter. I reached over and used the self-defense move I’d learned as a teen. Push the right pressure points and anyone will be forced to let go.
“Hey, what was that for?” Bronson asked, shaking his hand when he released me.
“I don’t like being manhandled,” I told him evenly.
His brows lifted. “Since when?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do I need to try out some of my other self-defense moves on you?”
He lifted his hands palms forward, though he looked unrepentant. “Sorry.”
I turned and saw Lidia and Dahlia, who were coming in the door. I waved, and they came over.
“We’ve gotten the official word now,” Lidia told me. “The medical examiner will be releasing her tomorrow, so the funeral will be held in Prescott on Saturday.”
“I’m glad you’ll be able to get everything settled. Did you enjoy the pizza place yesterday?”
“Yes, it was terrific. Is this as good?” Lidia slid Dahlia into the bench across the aisle from us.
“Oh, yeah. The ice cream is fabulous. You have to at least get a cone.” I ducked my head around Lidia and wiggled my fingers at Dahlia, who gave me a shy smile and wave back. “What are you doing in Silver Springs? Aren’t you staying in Prescott at Valerie’s apartment?”
Bronson interrupted the conversation. “Hello, I’m Bronson, Tess’s fiancé.”
“Ex-fiance. Ex,” I corrected.
Lidia’s brows lifted and Bronson shrugged. “She keeps saying that. I’m hoping to convince her otherwise.”
I rolled my eyes. I was about to say something concerning his delusions when Tad and Analesa entered. “What is this? The newlyweds come out of seclusion again?”
Lidia turned and waved and Dahlia climbed off the bench and ran over, wrapping her arms around Tad’s legs. He grabbed and lifted her so she was taller than him before setting the giggling girl on his hip.
“That’s why we’re here, to meet them for dinner,” Lidia said. “Aren’t they cute together?” Her eyes were on Tad and Dahlia.
Analesa had walked away from her new husband and was close enough to overhear. “Adorable.” Her voice was dry, her expression not amused. It made me wonder what her issue was.
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” I told Analesa.
“It’s not turning out to be much of a honeymoon, with everything that’s going on.” She turned to Bronson, studied him for a moment and I saw him open his mouth to introduce himself. I hurried to cut him off and give the right introductions as Tad and Dahlia approached. “This is Bronson, my old boss from Chicago. He’s come to town to discuss arrangements for a few of my bigger clients.”
He offered his hand to Tad for a shake. “We’re engaged.”
“Were engaged,” I corrected. “I wouldn’t be moving here if I had any intention of marrying you now.” Seriously, did the man never let up?
He gave that suave smile that said no, he wouldn’t.
Analesa seemed to like him immediately—not that I found that surprising. Bronson could be charming; he was good looking, and wore a suit well. Add to that the fact that he wasn’t Shawn, and I figured there was every reason for Analesa to be thrilled I was eating dinner with Bronson. I was tempted to mention my lunch date with her brother the next day just to tick her off, but it really wasn’t any of her business and I didn’t need the hassle.
Tad held Dahlia on one side and they both smiled, though Dahlia still looked sad. “It’s good to meet you, Bronson, even if she is holding out on you.” The guys shook hands.
Holding out on him? Did Tad really say that, because I’d actually liked him until five seconds ago. I didn’t respond, though—it was bound to egg the guys on. Instead, I fisted my hands at my sides and counted to ten. I was doing that a lot today.
“She insists she’s not coming back, but a guy can always hope.” Bronson threw me his most charming smile. It didn’t work on me anymore. Much.
I bit my tongue on the response that wanted to fly from my lips and narrowed my eyes at them both.
Tad held onto Dahlia, took their requests and went up front to order. After they finished, Dahlia sat across from him. Since Bronson and I had completed our business transaction as far as I was concerned, and I didn’t want things to get personal, I started asking him about mutual friends and coworkers—even though it had been less than two weeks wince I’d left. I’d been a little distracted with things like cakes, my business and murder to keep up with everyone online. I told him so.
“Murder? What do you mean?”
So I filled him in. If anything, it convinced him that I was not safe in this backwater town, but I refused to listen to his complaints. Instead, I tuned into the conversation at the table across from us.
“Of course we’d like to help any way we can,” Tad said to Lidia as he handed Dahlia another one of his fries.
“Yes. Of course,” Analesa echoed, though with far less conviction. “Valerie was a close friend of mine, after all, and we do love Dahlia.”
“I appreciate that, but as we live in different states, I don’t know what you’re going to be able to do,” Lidia protested. “Besides, Don and I have wanted to have children for a long time. Dahlia will be a welcome addition to our home.” She smiled at her niece, the love practically vibrating from her.
“I know we’re just married,” Tad said when Dahlia had jumped down to get more ketchup, “but I feel responsible for the position you and Dahlia are in.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “I think Ana and I are more than ready to help out, maybe take her for vacations to give you a break.”
“Though perhaps we ought to discuss this first.” Analesa removed her hand from his, making it clear she had no intention of parenting her dead best friend’s child.
I couldn’t really blame her; a child, at any age, was a major commitment—even for a week or two of vacation. I thought Tad was being a little too Dudley Do-Right and overeager.
“Thank you for the offer,” Lidia said, “but I couldn’t. Really. It’s my responsibility as a member of the family.”
His mouth firmed in a grim line.
Dahlia came running back with the ketchup in her hands. “I found it.”
“So you did, bug. Now, are you all set?” Tad asked.
“Earth to Tess. I am still sitting here, you know?” Bronson said, nudging my arm.
My eyes snapped back to his face and I ate the onion ring dangling between my fingers. “Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ve been trying to figure out this murder and—”
“Why are you getting involved in that?” Bronson asked. “That’s for the cops. Leave it alone.”
“I can’t leave it alone. I’m one of the suspects,” I hissed back at him. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. If Bronson knew that, he was going to throw a fit. I was right, of course.
“Tess, what do you mean?”
“It’s nothing, really. I think the police suspect everyone right now. I had a little run in with the victim. Actually, she said Roscoe Marks was a better pastry chef than me.” Stupidly, I expected him to understand my disgust with that.
He looked at me for a moment. “Who?”
“The pastry chef I competed against in that bake-off competition last year,” I reminded him. Roscoe and I’d had faced off several times over the years. When the reference didn’t seem to ring a bell with Bronson, I narrowed my eyes at him. I know I’d discussed the competition, and Roscoe, numerous times. Hadn’t he been listening? I decided to let it go. “Anyway, the police seem to think I’d kill Valerie because she made nasty comments about my brownies. Several other people had better access and much better reason to want her dead, though.”
Bronson seemed to realize I was smoothing over the seriousness of the issue. He started shooting questions at me and wouldn’t let up.
I couldn’t wait to leave.