Cold Hollow (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

On a more serious note, they discussed the lack of children in the small town. Their school classes were likely to be small, so good friends should not be that hard to find. The children didn’t seem too worried about it. They had adjusted at their old town and would adjust to this one too. Angus worked from home all summer, but come fall, he would be travelling to and from the headquarters for the ski resorts and making sure all advertising was hitting the television, internet, radio, and newspapers on time. He wanted this year to be the best in the resort’s history, and Sophia held no doubt he would. The only thing that bothered her was that some nights he worked too many long hours and missed family time with her and the children. Concessions had to be made, she knew that, but his absence would still be felt.

Angus placed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up to a standing position. He announced he was taking the family out for ice cream. Then they would venture through the entire town and find the hot spots.

Not one soul complained. Instead, they raced out the front door and straight to the car.

CHAPTER 3

Nazar sat in his office chair and turned it around to stare out the large window behind him. He could see the entire town from his vantage point. His office and living accommodations were on the top floor of the town hall. He saw the Barners pull out of their driveway and head into town. He hoped they were going to spend more money to help the town’s economy during the slow season. Nazar had just gone over the town’s budget and double-checked his ledgers to find things running right on track. When fall struck, he would be elated, as he was most years. The advertising the town did was minimal, but for some reason, word of mouth had spread among the skiers and sightseers, and the town flourished. Nazar ruled the town with an iron fist. He had to.

Feeling the pangs of hunger, he rose from his desk and entered his small kitchen. It was lunchtime and, if anything, Nazar was punctual.

***

Wally Dumont carried his bucket of maple syrup and placed it on the kitchen table. He processed it to sell at the local grocery store or anywhere else he could. He glanced over to see his wife Alice busy at the stove, making her maple-sugar candy, and smiled. The blowing of a car horn interrupted his thoughts. Alice went to the window and glanced back at her husband. “I don’t know these folks, but maybe they’re the new ones in town?”

He told his wife he would go see to the matter. He saw a young couple sitting in a car with their two children. They were staring at the entrance to Dumont’s small roadside store. He waved to them and quickly unlocked the front door of the store. They got out of their car, and he saw they were just finishing off some ice cream from the local shop on Main Street.

He grinned and pointed at them. “That stuff will make you fat! What I sell will positively rot your teeth!”

They laughed and introduced themselves as the Barners. He shook each of their hands. They wandered around the small aisles, and Wally was happy to see that the wife had instantly grabbed a tin of his pure maple syrup. The children were busy ogling the maple-sugar candy his wife made. Wally could have placed a bet that each child would leave there with some of it. Sure enough, they called their mother over; she inspected the ingredients on the box and picked up a small box for each of them.

She then turned to Wally. “Would you and your wife be interested in putting some of your products in my bakery on consignment?”

Wally stuck his hands inside his farmer jean pockets and smiled. “Heck, for sure! I tell you what—I’ll be boxing and tagging some for you tonight, and my wife Alice will include a tally sheet. Feel free to come by anytime tomorrow and pick it up. But I’m warning you, if Alice answers the door, she’ll talk your ear off.”

Sophia laughed. “That’s terrific. I’ll do just that. I’ll stop in sometime tomorrow. It’s nice when townsfolk help each other out.”

“You bet, ma’am. Especially now, with the till looming over our heads.”

Sophia’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been meaning to ask someone about this ‘till.’ Why is it instituted? What is it used for? Does each resident pay the same amount?”

Wally leaned against his tiny checkout counter and ran his tongue around his mouth. “It varies month to month. Nazar posts the amounts due on a bill each month. Everyone gets one at the town hall doors. It’s used to keep this town up and running during the slow season. It’s used to pay the town laborers, and for those pretty plants in your yard. During the fall and winter, we only have to pay the ‘living fee’ on December twenty-fifth.”

Angus leaned toward him and asked, “The living fee? What on earth is that?”

The side of Wally’s face twitched, and he looked at Angus. “That’s to keep the roads plowed. We’re snowed in here quite a bit and with tourists in town, we can’t afford for anyone to get snowbound. The cost runs high, so everyone in town chips in.”

Sophia asked, “So, there is no till during the fall and winter? Only the living fee?”

“Right-o, now you’re catching on.”

Angus went one step further. “Then where do our state and local taxes go?”

Wally seemed taken aback. “Taxes? We don’t pay stinking state or local taxes. It’s bad enough the feds sink their teeth into us once a year.”

Angus had his doubts about that, but shut his mouth. He would discuss that with Sophia on their way home.

Sophia cashed out but kept the conversation flowing, and Wally was eager to provide them with any information they needed. He informed them about the public lake and beach they could use at the edge of town. The snowmelt from the peaks provided the town with a nice waterfall and chilled lake all summer long. He then gave directions to a small, local farm that he thought the children would enjoy visiting, followed by the local orchards. Angus wrote it all down and took directions from Wally. They planned to check out all of those hot spots that day. They gathered their purchases and waved good-bye to Wally as he stood in the door to his shop, waving back.

After the Barners pulled out of the small parking area, Wally returned to the house to find his wife already boxing and tagging a slew of her candy. The kitchen smelled wonderful. He grinned at her. “Woman, I swear you got the ears of a bat.”

She smiled as she slid more candy inside a narrow box and tagged it. “Thank you for the compliment, my love.” She then swore as one of her nails nicked the cellophane covering of one of the boxes. She pinched her nose and took out a new box to transfer the sweets into.

Her husband patted her shoulder as he passed by. “There, there, honeybunch. Don’t get all upset with yourself. You’re just excited over seeing the children.”

She nodded and concentrated on finishing off the packaging, as he returned to his bucket of unprocessed maple syrup.

***

Bernadette Carlisle stood beside her sister Belinda and stared at the newcomers entering their driveway. Bernadette elbowed her sister and muttered, “Come on, put your sweet face on and greet them proper.”

Her sister followed her and they walked together to meet and greet the Barner family. Bernadette extended her hand out in welcome, and her sister did the same as introductions were made. They gave the family a complete tour of the entire farm and all the livestock, and tempted Sophia to buy pure cream, cheese, butter, and milk straight from them. They assured her that she would find nothing fresher or finer in town. After tasting samples, Sophia placed orders for the bakery and assured the sisters that she would pick it up the following day.

Sophia was taken aback at the heftiness of the two women. They were nearly twins, but Bernadette had made it clear that she was the eldest and in charge of operations, because that was how Ma and Pa had wanted it. They both had home-permed gray hairdos, and they dressed like rugged farmers, complete with farmer jeans and work boots. Their T-shirts were soiled, and dirt had permanently embedded itself beneath their fingernails.

Angus and Sophia knew the life of a farmer was a tough one, and these two unmarried women had seemed to make a success of it. Their home was large and freshly painted. The grounds were immaculate, considering the livestock, and their vegetable gardens flourished through the use of a special mixture of manure. The family was informed of every detail of running a farm.

They allowed the children to hand-feed some of the livestock. Angus did not hesitate and whipped out his camera. He obtained some fine shots of the children with the horses and cows, but in particular, the lambs and goats. The two women even let Liam chase down some chickens that had gotten out of the coop. Sophia nearly burst at the seams in laughter while watching her son try to catch them. She was elated to see the smiles on the children’s faces.

The younger Carlisle sister elbowing her older sister distracted her. Belinda muttered, “Ask her if she’s gonna make cinnamon buns like Ma used to.”

Bernadette looked at Sophia with raised eyebrows. Sophia assured both of them she would do her best to provide each customer’s favorite in her bakery. She voiced hope they liked her cinnamon buns as much as they had liked their mother’s.

The sisters stood at the barn doors, waved good-bye to the new family in town, and watched them pull out of the long driveway. Bernadette gently tapped her sister’s arm and grinned. “See? When you’re nice to folks, you make the till. We just made enough on that order to pay next month’s till. We’re ahead of the game again, sister.”

Belinda mumbled as she walked back into the barn. “Yup, and now I’m behind on my daily chores. Those cinnamon buns better be fucking phenomenal.”

Bernadette’s laugh came out as a pig snort as she followed her inside the barn, yapping about her baby sister’s temperament.

***

Artie Lavoie was busy making the rounds of his orchards and checking for any signs of bug infestations when he heard the honk of a car horn. He rushed through the orchards to see the new family in town, sitting in their car and waiting for someone to show up. His feet shuffled up the small hill before the car and he whispered to himself, “Gotta make a sale, and gotta make the till. Be nice to them, Artie.”

Angus got out of the car and introduced the bunch, and Artie stammered, “Nuh-nice to muh-meet ya.” He waved his arm in the direction of the orchards, and they diligently followed as he described the different orchards and how small the fruit were, and that in the early fall he would have the best crop yet.

Sophia asked him, “Do you have a way to preserve last year’s crops? Do you have anything by way of apples, peaches, cherries, or pears?”

“Sure!” He led them to his large barn. He had huge freezers set up in the back room, and multiple shelves chock-full of preserved fruit and jams. The amount was staggering.

Angus laughed as he pointed at the man’s stockpile. “Did you say last year was a
slow
year?”

Artie shuffled his feet as he nodded. He glanced up at Sophia and asked, “You interested? I can guarantee the freshness and guarantee that they will make the best filling for pies, turnovers, or whatever it is you bake.”

Sophia was busy at the shelves, writing in her little notepad. She turned briefly to Artie. “There are no prices listed. I’d also like to taste a bit of each item I order, if that’s all right?”

He continued shuffling his feet and glanced at her sheepishly. “Price depends on the till, ma’am.” He seemed to think about it a bit and added, “But the more you buy, the lower the price. I’ll let you taste whatever you have a mind to.”

Sophia smiled and told him as long as he guaranteed freshness, then she would probably become a regular customer. Angus and the children left the two of them to their business and went back out to roam the orchards.

Sophia placed a phenomenal order and had Artie lowering the price with each item she tasted and ordered. He seemed to have more stockpiled than he himself realized and began making fun of himself. When Sophia asked him if he feared the apocalypse, he nearly cackled out of his work boots.

Artie tallied his income as the Barners pulled out of his driveway. He let loose a sigh of relief and relaxed, knowing he was now well ahead of the till payment. He kicked the dirt as he made his way back to his small cottage. He then kicked it again, hesitated, and began digging a hole with his bare hands. His knuckles became gnarled and swollen. When the hole was deep enough, he jumped in it, curled up, and took a nice nap. Artie was a quirky fellow.

***

Myrna Bradbury sat in her sewing room, finishing off the curtains for the bakery. She then set to work on the tablecloths. She made extra because she knew that as some were laundered, others would be needed as replacements.

When she was done, she ran to her old recipe box and dug out all the recipes for desserts that she could find. She sorted them out and picked her favorites. She then stuck them in her purse to bring to work in the morning. She ironed the curtains, bundled them neatly alongside the tablecloths, and set them on the counter by the side door so she wouldn’t forget them. She then dug through her closet to find a halfway decent top to wear to work in the morning with her new jeans. She found a beautiful, pale-yellow blouse that she had not worn in years. It did not clash with her red hair and pale-blue eyes, so she placed it one side.

Myrna later stood with her hands on her hips in her driveway. She stared at Bob’s pickup truck and grimaced. It was filthy, just as he had been. She had no current mode of transportation and began the sad task of scrubbing the vehicle down. When she opened the side doors to air it out, she gagged. The stench emanating from the interior was gut wrenching. She took an old scarf from her back pocket and tied it around her face like a cowboy facing a dust storm. She had rubber gloves on that ran up to her elbows and a garbage bag by her side. She hauled at least a month’s worth of refuse from under the two seats and floor of the vehicle. When she looked at the rear view mirror, her upper lip curled in distaste. Her dead husband had a fondness for those little air fresheners in the shape of pine trees. Myrna hated them. Their cloying scent blended with the refuse in the truck in the most offensive way that she couldn’t imagine them being attractive to anyone’s olfactory senses. Bob didn’t have one hanging there-no. He had a goddamn collection of them in varying colors. She tore them down with one swipe and tossed them in the garbage bag.