When the Cookie Crumbles Page 2

  “I am eager to hear how your research is progressing, Quill,” Mr. Willard said with a sheepish grin. “Especially with respect to the possibility that our own Frederick P. Chatterley might have left a number of, shall we say, unacknowledged descendants?”

  As the gathering responded with expressions ranging from amusement to disgust, Olivia’s cell vibrated yet again. This time she checked the caller ID. It was Del. His persistence gave Olivia a twinge of concern, but Karen was watching her. She’d call back as soon as the meeting ended.

  Mr. Willard chuckled. “I realize it is perhaps unseemly of me to be so interested in our revered founder’s less-than-estimable pursuits, but nevertheless…” He shrugged his bony shoulders.

  “It’s downright fascinating,” Binnie said. “I plan to do a whole spread on the old reprobate’s illegitimate descendants. How many have we got?” She retrieved her ever-present notebook and a ballpoint pen. “Okay, five so far. The latest is that kid who’s working with Lucas on the Chatterley Mansion, Matthew something. Don’t know the guy myself.”

  “Matthew Fabrizio?” Olivia asked. “I didn’t realize his family lived in Chatterley Heights so far back. I met him when I was taking pictures of the Chatterley Mansion for Maddie’s gingerbread house design.”

  “Yeah, Fabrizio, that’s it,” Binnie said, jotting the name down in her notebook. “So old Frederick must have knocked up some Italian chick back in seventeen-something-or-other.”

  “That is incorrect,” Quill said. “There was no one of Italian descent living in Chatterley Heights until—”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Binnie said, stuffing her notebook into a pocket. “I think I’ll interview the kid.”

  Olivia barely knew Matthew Fabrizio, but she felt sorry for him.

  “It is important to be precise,” Quill said in his lecturing voice. “Matthew Fabrizio is descended from Frederick through his mother, who belonged to an old Chatterley Heights family. And while intriguing, as Mr. Willard said, this obsessive search for Frederick’s illegitimate offspring has no real significance. Harold and Sally Chatterley, knowing of Frederick’s proclivities, wisely foresaw this dilemma. Their will made it clear the family mansion was to pass to the town of Chatterley Heights if there were no more descendants born within wedlock to Chatterley parents.”

  “That is correct,” Mr. Willard said.

  “So if I may report my more important historical findings, I—”

  An insistent generic ring tone from Karen’s cell phone interrupted Quill, who glared at the mayor. Without apology, Karen dug her cell phone out of a stuffed expanding file next to her chair. As Karen frowned at the caller ID, Olivia realized her own cell was vibrating once again. She slipped away from the group and escaped to the relative privacy of the store’s cookbook nook. Flipping the phone open, she found two voice mails and a text message, all from Del. The text read, “Call me. Now.”

  Del answered at once. “Livie, you won’t believe this. You are about to have visitors. I tried to stall them by directing them to the mayor’s office, but sooner or later they will find out the celebration committee is meeting at your store.”

  “Del, what are you—?”

  “Hold on to your hat,” Del said. “It seems the Chatterley family has not died out, as we all assumed. Harold and Sally’s son, Paine Chatterley, is still alive.”

  “You’re kidding!” Olivia lowered her voice. “But he didn’t show up for either Harold’s or Sally’s funeral.”

  “Nonetheless,” Del said, “Paine is alive, and he has returned to Chatterley Heights. He and his wife Hermione are heading your way. They want the key to their mansion back.”

  * * *

  “This is outrageous!” Mayor Karen Evanson’s face reddened right down to her earlobes.

  Paine Chatterley, a slight man with silver hair, eyed Karen with detached amusement. His plump wife, Hermione, stared at the mayor with frank curiosity.

  “We will most certainly not give you our keys to the Chatterley Mansion,” Karen said. “You’ve presented no proof of your identity. You two are nothing more than scam artists. Do you honestly think we didn’t confirm Paine Chatterley’s death before taking possession of Chatterley Mansion?”

  Paine Chatterley, if that’s who he was, gave Karen a faint smile, which conveyed a hint of superiority. “We have papers, of course,” Paine said. He selected several official-looking documents from his soft leather briefcase and handed them to Karen.

  Karen’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she snatched the papers from Paine’s hand. She barely glanced at them. “You assured us he was deceased,” she said as she thrust the papers toward Mr. Willard. “I assume these are fake.”

  Mr. Willard’s gaunt face turned ashen as he pored over the documents.

  Maddie emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of decorated gingerbread cookies, cheerfully unaware of the unfolding drama. “Lucas called and told me we’d be receiving special visitors. I thought we could all do with some sustenance.” Maddie studied the Chatterleys, and they returned the interest with amusement. Olivia could understand why. Maddie had been baking and decorating for close to ten hours straight. Her curly red hair frothed around her head like cotton candy gone viral. Bits of gingerbread dough and colored icing dotted her jeans and T-shirt, and she had flour on her nose.

  “So you’re Paine Chatterley,” Maddie said. “I heard you were dead.”

  Paine appeared charmed by Maddie’s bluntness. But then, Olivia suspected he was able to present himself in any way he wished. His emotional reactions must be under remarkable control, Olivia thought, if Karen’s brusque, mistrustful manner hadn’t phased him.

  “I’m sure I shall shuffle off one day,” Paine said as he selected one of Maddie’s gingerbread cookies. “But not just yet.” His accent was faintly English, as one might expect given his story, relayed by Del, that he’d been living in and around western Europe since he left Chatterley Heights at about age twenty-five. “Meanwhile, it is lovely to be home. Hermione and I wish only for a quiet retirement. We were never blessed with children, so it means a great deal to us to regain a connection with my family.”

  Olivia’s curiosity grew as she noted the physical differences between Paine and his wife. Paine was slender with fine chiseled features and straight silver hair combed back from his forehead. Hermione Chatterley, on the other hand, had broad shoulders and a plump figure with almost no waist. Her hair might once have been red and curly, like Maddie’s, but was now thin, white fluff.

  “You can call yourself a Chatterley all you want,” Karen said, “but we’ll need more proof. We will, of course, conduct our own investigation.”

  “Karen, my dear,” Paine said, “I am devastated. How could you not recognize me?”

  All eyes turned to the mayor, who gave Paine Chatterley a hard look and said nothing. Binnie Sloan whipped out a small digital camera and began clicking away. Karen snatched the camera from Binnie’s hand and shoved it into her expanding file. “We do not need any publicity about this. These two persons will be gone by tomorrow.”

  Ignoring her, Paine turned to Professor Latimer. “And Quill, old friend, it’s good to see you again. I hear you’ve achieved a…well-deserved position.”

  Paine’s hesitation was so slight, Olivia wondered if she’d imagined it. Until she saw Quill Latimer’s gaunt cheeks redden. She felt like a spectator at a skillfully directed play. The greetings to Karen Evanson and Quill Latimer felt personal yet lacked intimate detail, as if Paine were conveying a private message to each of them. On the other hand, Olivia understood that a practiced con artist could take little or no information and make it sound as if he knew a secret.

  “If I may interject,” Mr. Willard said, “these papers appear to be official, but I am not sufficiently conversant with British legal documents to verify their authenticity. I do have a professional acquaintance in DC, a legal scholar of international repute, to whom I suggest faxing these items.”

  “How could you
have allowed this to happen?” Her fists on her hips, Karen scowled at Mr. Willard. “You assured us you had seen the death certificate with your own eyes.”

  “Yes, I…well, to be precise, I was sent an authorized copy of the death certificate, along with supporting documents. I saw no evidence the death certificate had been forged, but I suppose one can never be certain.”

  “How intriguing,” Paine said. “I’m curious…when was my alleged death? And how did I die?”

  Mr. Willard looked so confused and alarmed that Olivia wondered, for the first time, how old he was and if his considerable intellect was beginning to dim.

  “Well, I…I would have to check my files, but as I recall you died in a skiing accident while still a young man. I believe you were in your midtwenties. We requested the information some years later, given you had not returned for either your father’s or your mother’s funeral.”

  “Ah,” said Paine. “You see, I was not terribly close to my parents, and I felt no need to attend their funerals. Furthermore, I detest skiing. You must have been sent another Paine Chatterley’s death certificate.”

  Karen turned her wrath toward Paine. “How many Paine Chatterleys can there possibly be?”

  “My dear Karen, you of all people should know there is only one of me. However, given dear old Frederick’s predilections, I’ll wager there are numerous Chatterleys running around England, spawned before his escape to the colonies. Surely one or two of them had the misfortune to be named Paine. I’m certain this will all be straightened out soon.”

  “Perhaps,” Karen said, “but meanwhile, no key to the mansion. I’m sure you two can find a motel to stay in.”

  Paine Chamberlain flashed her a smile, revealing stained teeth. “Send off our materials to your expert, by all means. However, my dear Karen, our coming here to talk with you was merely a formality. We stopped by the mansion on our rather circuitous way over here. A kind young man made a copy of his key for us, and we have deposited what belongings we were able to transport with us. I believe he is working on the restoration of our family home. It seems the town had allowed it to fall into a sad state of disrepair.”

  “Lucas handed over his key? Lucas Ashford?” Maddie frowned at the emerald promise-to-think-about-it, almost-engagement ring on her finger, as if it owed her an explanation for her true love’s questionable judgment.

  “Lucas…” Paine Chatterley caressed his chin with long, slender fingers, as if deep in thought. “No, I believe the name was more, shall we say, continental. Italian, perhaps.”

  “Matthew Fabrizio,” Karen Evanson muttered through clamped teeth.

  “That’s the young man,” Paine said. “He seemed quite eager to help.”

  “I’ll bet he was,” Karen said.

  Paine gave her a curious look. Karen did not elaborate, but Olivia thought she understood. If Matthew Fabrizio was, in fact, a descendant of Frederick P. Chatterley, he had every reason to curry Paine’s favor. Illegitimate or not, Matthew might hope to become the son and heir Paine and Hermione never had. If Paine were to acknowledge Matthew as Frederick P.’s descendant, he might also be convinced to write a new will.

  “We are rather tired,” Paine said. “We’ll be toddling along home for a nap before we unpack. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a great deal of all of you, once we’ve had a chance to settle in.”

  Speaking for the first time, Hermione said to Olivia, “The Gingerbread House is such a lovely store. I can’t wait to explore it.” She reached out to touch Maddie’s arm. “Did you really make these adorable decorated cookies? When I was a child, we had a cook who made such wonderful confec—”

  Paine’s hand clamped onto Hermione’s arm. “Come along, my dear, we have unpacking to do. There will be plenty of time for all that.”

  Anger flashed in Hermione’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly, Olivia wondered if she’d imagined it.

  “Oh, by the way,” Paine said, “we are in dire need of quiet, so the Chatterley Mansion will be closed to the public during your little celebration. The grounds as well. I’m sure you understand. It is our home, after all, and we prefer privacy.” With a brief smile, he herded his wife toward the front door of The Gingerbread House.

  The door closed behind the couple, followed by some moments of silence. Olivia was itching to know if Paine Chatterley had been playing mind games with them when he hinted at knowing Karen Evanson and Quill Latimer. Olivia hesitated to ask them directly because, frankly, she was too tired to deal with Karen’s sharp tongue.

  Binnie Sloan felt no such qualms. She pulled out an old handheld recorder and thrust it toward Karen and Quill. “So, you two, spill it. What connection does the long-lost Paine Chatterley have to our new mayor and our esteemed local historian? And why do you deny knowing him?” She pushed the recorder close to Karen’s face. “We’ll start with you, Karen. I figure Paine left Chatterley Heights before you were older than…what, ten? Fifteen? Did he hang out at your playground? Maybe he visited DC while you were working for that loser congressman, what’s-his-name? Or did you and Paine have a clandestine affair somewhere in Europe?”

  Karen’s face turned the color of burgundy royal icing. “This meeting is dismissed. And if you, if any of you, repeat a word of what transpired today, I will see to it that you are punished to the full extent of the law.”

  Spunky jumped to his paws on the soft chair seat and began to yap at Karen. For his own protection, Olivia grabbed him and held him to her chest, shushing him quietly.

  Mr. Willard cleared his throat and said, “Actually, Mayor Evanson, I don’t believe there is any legal recourse for—”

  “I don’t care!” Karen stalked to the front door and slammed it shut behind her.

  Unfazed, Binnie pointed her recorder at Quill. “Your turn, Professor Latimer. What is your secret link to Paine Chatterley?”

  “Forget it, Binnie,” Quill said with a brief laugh. “Paine and I are the same age. Of course we knew each other. There’s no story, but I’m sure you can make one up.” Quill turned his head and gazed out the window, which gave a view of the town square. The Chatterleys were visible as they passed under the band shell lamplight, heading south through the park. This struck Olivia as odd since the Chatterley Mansion was several blocks north of the square.

  As he watched the Chatterleys’ receding figures, Quill Latimer added, “I will say one thing. That man is no impostor. He is definitely Paine Chatterley, and he hasn’t changed a bit.”

  Chapter Two

  Olivia gazed with satisfaction and a rumble of hunger at the five dozen cutout gingerbread cookies covering half of the worktable in the store kitchen. The other half held Maddie’s rectangular cookies, on which she would “paint” scenes to be attached inside gingerbread house windows. Since they’d become partners in The Gingerbread House, Maddie had done most of the cookie decorating, while Olivia handled the business side of things. The arrangement worked well. Olivia had a business degree, and Maddie was a bona fide cookie-decorating genius. But Olivia missed the fun of rolling out the dough, cutting shapes, mixing lovely colors of royal icing…and the joy of watching a design take shape on each cookie.

  Through the kitchen door, Olivia heard Spunky’s delighted bark of greeting, which meant Maddie had arrived. They had agreed to begin work at five a.m., so they’d have plenty of time to finish several batches of gingerbread cookies before the store opened at nine.

  “Hey,” Maddie said as she slid through the barely open kitchen door. “No, Spunky, you guard the store. You know the rules. We don’t want another stern lecture from the health department, do we?” She closed the door firmly behind her and deposited a bag with handles on the counter. “I made us some tuna salad,” she said. “I refuse to order pizza at five in the morning. People would talk.”

  “Which they are doing enough of already.”

  “Oh yeah?” Maddie began to gather royal icing ingredients from the cupboard. “Did you and Del do something delightfully scandalous last night?
”

  “Only if you call meat loaf sandwiches at Pete’s Diner scandalous,” Olivia said.

  “Wow. How can you bear the excitement? You know what I think? I think you need another mystery to solve—something to shake up your relationship with Del.”

  Olivia laughed. “That would shake it up, all right. No, I’m fine with things as they are. When it comes to crime fighting, Del and I agreed to meet each other in the middle. I assured him I wouldn’t go looking for dangerous situations to throw myself into, but if it happens, it happens. Del said he’ll always worry about my safety, but he won’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  “So rational,” Maddie said, “and so unlikely.”

  To change the subject, Olivia said, “Del did tell me something last night that will drive Karen Evanson to the brink of madness.”

  Maddie’s green eyes lit with pleasure. “Cool. What?”

  “When Paine and Hermione left the store last night, I wondered why they headed south through the park, rather than north to the mansion. Del told me they stopped in at the police station. They, or rather Paine, ordered Del to assign his ‘entire staff’ to guard Frederick Street day and night from Friday evening until Monday morning.”

  “No kidding.” Maddie said. “Talk about noblesse obnoxious.”

  “Oh, now you aren’t even trying,” said Olivia, who spoke decent if rusty French.

  “Well, you’re always correcting my French, so I might as well mangle it on purpose.”

  “As long as you’re having fun.” Olivia opened Maddie’s canvas bag to put the tuna salad in the refrigerator. “Hey, what’s all this?”

  “Oh that,” Maddie said as she selected a small red bottle of food coloring. “I finally convinced Aunt Sadie to allow some of her embroidery to leave the house. She’s so shy about sharing her work. Between you and me, she’s running low on funds, so I suggested we sell some of her aprons in the store.”