A Cherry Cola Christmas Read online

  The magic spell that Key West had cast over Maura Beth was beginning to fade with each City Hall front step she climbed. The three-story white columns towering above almost seemed to be frowning down upon her. For a brief moment, she actually contemplated how convenient it would be to return to that laid-back, semitropical environment—perhaps permanently. There would be nothing more difficult to deal with down there than the swaying of royal palms in the constant breeze off the Gulf—unless one of those frequent hurricanes came roaring in during the season. Unfortunately, she was about to face Cherico’s very own hurricane in the form of Councilman Durden Sparks—always plotting, fomenting discord, and pitting folks against one another in the manner he had perfected over the past several decades. The man had “storm warning” written all over his face.

  Before Maura Beth knew it, she was sitting across from the charming rascal himself in his spotless, designer showroom-like office with the smell of the rum-flavored cigar he was smoking lingering in the air. That was a new touch, she observed. Perhaps he thought smoking cigars made him even more of a good ole boy than he already was. Of course, getting all the meaningless pleasantries out of the way as fast as she could was the first order of business.

  “Yes, Councilman, you’re absolutely right,” she was saying, sounding a bit bored. “Jeremy and I thoroughly enjoyed our honeymoon. It was everything we hoped it would be and more. But I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean when I say that it was over all too soon.”

  He nodded perfunctorily, flashing one of his best reelection smiles. “That’s the nature of honeymoons, of course. They really don’t prepare any of us for the real world we live in, do they? Speaking of which, I have some very bad news to share with you today.”

  Maura Beth sat up straighter in her chair, looking alert and confident. She was ready for anything he had to throw at her these days. “I already know what you’re going to say. It’s about the stolen tips down at The Twinkle, isn’t it?”

  Councilman Sparks looked momentarily surprised, pulling back slightly. “Well, yes, that was a part of what I wanted to discuss with you. And I see you’ve been properly briefed.”

  “My assistant, Renette Posey.”

  Councilman Sparks cast his eyes at the ceiling for a moment or two. “Yes, that sweet little teenaged thing you’ve got working for you down there behind the front desk. Is she old enough to drive yet?”

  Maura Beth refused to bristle. “She’s a high-school graduate going on nineteen. But enough about Renette. Why don’t you continue with your bad news? I know you’re just bursting to tell me.”

  He cleared his throat loudly and then put the cigar down in the nearby ashtray where the smoke continued to curl upward lazily. “Yes, well, I’ll get to the stolen tips bid’ness later. But first I wanted to tell you that Spurs ’R’ Us, the cowboy boot manufacturer that was going to locate in our new industrial park, has backed out of the deal at the last minute. Said they’re looking into another location up near Nashville. Dillard Mills, their two-faced CEO, had the gall to tell me over the phone he thought their boots would sell better if people knew they were made in the country music capital of the world and not here in Cherico. What an asinine reason! Who’d care about something like that? Anyway, I don’t have to tell you that that’s a real blow to our economy. It would’ve meant hundreds of new jobs for us, and we really need them. Our sales tax is lagging way behind last year, too. The town’s in a real slump that shows no signs of ending soon. If it keeps up, Cherico’s not gonna have much of a Christmas this year. I guess you could say that Spurs ’R’ Us has Scrooged us!”

  Maura Beth nodded sympathetically but remained wary. She could not see where he was going with this where she was concerned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you were excited about them being the first industry to locate in your park—the park to end all industrial parks.”

  “It’s not my park. It belongs to everyone here in Cherico, including you. Hey, we were just about ready to do a presser to announce the construction date of the plant. Instead, it’s gotten out around the state that we’ve been one-upped by Nashville. That’s the big story now, and it can’t help us with our future industrial prospects!” He paused, looking off to the side at the smoke-filled plane of light streaming through his window, as if he were searching for inspiration to continue. “And since you’re so tight with Miz Periwinkle Lattimore, I suppose you already know her ex has closed down the Marina Bar and Grill out at the lake and left town. Another source of consistent tax revenue just sailing off into the sunset on us!”

  “Yes, unfortunately I was aware of that,” she told him, nodding smartly. “Harlan Lattimore’s moved back to his hometown of Jefferson, Texas, to start over fresh. It seems there’s nothing much left for him here after Periwinkle turned down his second marriage proposal. These things happen.”

  Councilman Sparks muttered something under his breath, lightly brushing his silver tie with the tips of his fingers, and continued. “Well, Harlan Lattimore leaving’s not all that’s happened. Miz Audra Neely is closing down that fancy antique shop of hers on Commerce Street after Christmas, too. And Cherico Ace Hardware is going out of bid’ness. We can’t afford too many more empty storefronts downtown. Looks awful when we show these company execs around. Gives the unmistakable impression we’re dying on the vine—and if we don’t turn this around soon, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen to us!”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that about Audra and the hardware store. But Audra did have a lot of high-end items for a small town like Cherico. I know they were all out of my price range. Frankly, I’m surprised she was able to stay in business this long.”

  “That was why we needed those Spurs ’R’ Us jobs. Woudda brought in folks to live here who could’ve afforded nicer things. Things are looking pretty bleak around here, Miz Mayhew.”

  “McShay.”

  “Of course. You’re a respectable married woman now. To that young shop teacher, right?”

  Maura Beth looked thoroughly exasperated, making no effort to contain her anger. “Please stop doing that, Councilman. You know very well that my husband, Jeremy, teaches English here at the high school. You always do that to needle me, and I’m sick and tired of it.”

  Councilman Sparks took another puff of his cigar, indulged one of his wicked grins, and chuckled. “You’re one feisty librarian. I’ve always given you that much.”

  Maura Beth decided it was time to cut to the chase. “Well, I appreciate you keeping me in the loop about all this, but what do you think I can possibly do about it? I’m no elected official or detective. Why am I really here?”

  He shrugged his shoulders as his mouth went all crooked—not a good look for such an extraordinarily handsome man. “Actually, Lon Dreyfus asked me to speak to you. He wants to address your book club about the stolen tips thing. He’s thinking that you and your cronies could keep an eye out around town so this thing won’t get outta hand. Of course, the truth is, he loves to hear himself talk. So, he’s addressing all the civic groups, and you’ve got quite a collection of members there. All ages and interests . . . Connie and Douglas McShay, Miss Voncille Nettles—er, Linwood she is now—and her genealogy following; Justin and Becca Brachle; that black pastry chef and his mother—well, I don’t have to tell you who all comes to your meetings, do I? Maybe someone’ll see something to help the sheriff and the police department out. More pairs of eyes on the street, you know.”

  Maura Beth sank back in her sumptuous leather visitor’s chair and peered smugly at her longtime adversary. Having the upper hand was sweet, indeed! “So, let me get this straight, Councilman. After all the grief you’ve given me, the library, and The Cherry Cola Book Club, you actually want our help now?”

  He didn’t even blink. “That’s the gist of it. I mean, you could call one of your club meetings and potlucks and enlist their help. The way I see it, it’d clearly be a civic duty thing. Besides, as I said, it’s not my idea, it’s the sheriff ’s. He and I—well, w
e don’t always see eye to eye, but I pretty much agree with him on this one. I mean, what harm could it do?”

  Maura Beth’s laugh was genuine and prolonged. “And not so long ago, the book club was the proverbial thorn in your side.”

  “True enough.” He leaned in farther, looking almost predatory and ready to pounce on her with his hands palms down and fingers spread wide on the desk. “But you’ve proven you can hold your own with us good ole boys running things. You got exactly what you wanted out of your newfound political savvy—that big new library going up out at the lake. You and I, we share a few secrets now, don’t we? So, I view you as a pretty valuable asset to Cherico.”

  “To your political reign here in Cherico, you mean.”

  “Why should I deny it? That’s what I’m all about, and you know it as well as I do. So, are you and the club gonna help out or not?”

  Maura Beth took her time. An uneasy feeling gripped her briefly. She had been prepared for another of the councilman’s attacks, but cooperating with him on just about any level was awkward and rare territory. Still, she didn’t see how she could turn Sheriff Dreyfus down. Unlike with Councilman Sparks, she’d never had an unpleasant experience with him over the years. “Yes, of course, the club will help. I imagine everyone’s concerned about it. They all have a stake in our little community.”

  “Ah! Just what I thought you’d say!”

  “You almost always get your way, don’t you?”

  He pulled back somewhat, drumming his fingers rapidly on the highly polished wood to some hidden rhythm. “Almost always. You’re one of my few exceptions. And now—well, you’re married and all that goes with that.”

  Maura Beth’s expression was steely. He was no longer able to get to her where she lived. “It was never going to happen, Councilman. Even if you’d burned down the library, I was never going to come work for you as your secretary. And I use the term loosely.”

  His face went all dreamy and slightly creepy at the same time. “Ah, yes, what could have been!”

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can about when we can work the sheriff in,” she told him, ignoring his theatrics. “And I’m sure you’re right—everyone who belongs to The Cherry Cola Book Club is very involved in the welfare of our little town. Someone may very well spot something—or overhear something that will help catch the culprit. Then maybe you can find another cowboy boot company to kick up its heels in your industrial park.”

  “Yee-ha, little lady!” Councilman Sparks shouted, making a lassoing gesture while flashing his legendary white teeth.

  Maura Beth gave him one of her weakest smiles as she said good-bye and walked away. Some things and some people never changed.

  It was only when Maura Beth and Jeremy were sitting across from each other at their kitchen table that evening having dinner that she felt the full impact of her latest session with Councilman Sparks. “What this boils down to is, the head honcho of Cherico has now put me in the same category as his City Hall lackeys—‘Chunky’ Badham and ‘Gopher’ Joe Martin. I’m supposed to do his bidding without giving him an argument like I used to do.”

  Jeremy swallowed a forkful of the chicken spaghetti she had made for them and took a moment. “Well, at least this time Councilman Sparks is trying to do some good, and the sheriff is only doing his job. I mean, the sooner whoever did this is caught, the better.”

  Maura Beth moved her food around her plate, looking thoroughly disinterested. “I know. It’s just the way he manages to turn every conversation with me into a dirty joke. I always come away feeling like he’s made another pass at me and that I need to take a shower.”

  Jeremy narrowed his eyes and sat bolt upright, looking very territorial. “Maybe I need to go over there and set him straight, then.”

  “That would not be a good idea, sweetie,” she said. “But I appreciate you wanting to be my knight in shining armor. Just trust me on this one—I can handle the councilman by myself.”

  “Just promise me you won’t let things get out of hand with him.”

  She reached across and gave him her most reassuring smile, gently patting his hand. “I promise.”

  Then, for not the first time, she sat back with the pride of first-home ownership on her face and surveyed the bright yellow kitchen inside the Painter Street cottage they had bought from Miss Voncille Nettles—now Mrs. Locke Linwood. What a generous wedding present from her parents—William and Cara Lynn Mayhew—the down payment had been! And then Miss Voncille had used their honeymoon period to move what possessions she was keeping into the Perry Street house she now shared with her new husband—Locke Linwood. But some of Miss Voncille’s personality still lingered by mutual agreement—a couple of her iconic potted palms she had lovingly maintained over the decades in honor of her MIA fiancé, Frank Gibbons; the big, round breakfast nook table where they were having dinner at the moment; and a comfortable, upholstered chair or two in the living room and master bedroom. At any rate, everything was where it was supposed to be for the newlyweds upon their return from Key West, making for a seamless transition into their new home.

  “Everything that’s been happening to Cherico reminds me of that old gospel song,” Maura Beth said, emerging from her reverie about their little cottage. “You know, the one about Joshua fittin’ the Battle of Jericho? Maybe that sounds a little outside the box right now, but it seems to fit.”

  Jeremy nodded while hitching up one side of his mouth in recognition. “Never sang it myself, but I know the tune.”

  “Yeah, well, I was wondering if this is the beginning of the end for our little town with all these stores closing. Am I building a brand-new library just as our walls come tumblin’ down, so to speak? Councilman Sparks paints such a dismal picture, and he’s usually pretty cocky about things.”

  Jeremy shook off the suggestion vigorously, wagging a finger. “Nah, let it all play out, sweetheart. You and I—we’ll stay the course here as we planned. And Cherico’ll be the better for it—you’ll see.”

  2

  Dreaded Birthdays and Hot Tips

  Maybe it was just her overactive imagination, but Maura Beth thought Emma Frost had aged by leaps and bounds over the past few weeks. Her pale, plump face—never what anyone would call pretty—seemed to have acquired folds and creases that were not there before. Yet there remained a certain honesty and determination in the woman’s plainness that endeared her to everyone who walked into the outdated, claustrophobic Cherico Library and asked for her help at the front desk. Indeed, no one had ever even thought about registering a complaint.

  Maura Beth’s goal on her second day back at work was to try as best she could to lighten Emma’s load, and she believed she was well on her way to doing that as the two women sat across from each other in her office just before the library was set to open up at nine o’clock. “So, who’s looking after your Leonard when you come to work?” Maura Beth was asking.

  “Cissy—that’s my daughter that’s not married yet, ya know—well, she comes over to help me out. She’s at my house right now prob’ly watchin’ TV with him. We just gotta keep an eye on Leonard, since he just cain’t be trusted to know what’s best for him. We learned that lesson the hard way first time we found him wanderin’ around out on the sidewalk. He just slipped out on us when we weren’t lookin’, and when we asked him what he thought he was doin’, all he’d tell us was, ‘I’m just out for a little walk like I used to do before y’all started frettin’ over me so. A man needs some fresh air, ya know!’ Then he stormed off to his room, mad as an old banty rooster, and slammed the door so hard, there come a zigzag crack in the wall and one a’ the pictures of my mother in the hallway fell down with a racket like you’ve never heard. It scared me near half to death!”

  Maura Beth was a bit overwhelmed by Emma’s ramblings but managed to maintain her smile. “When will you know something for sure from the doctors?”

  Emma turned away, looking pitifully distraught. “Any day now, they told us. I ju
st have this feelin’ he’s got the Alltimer’s. They kinda hinted at it here and there, but they couldn’t say for sure ’til they’d checked on a few more things.”

  Maura Beth let the malapropism pass without so much as a blink. This was no time to tidy up the English language and cause embarrassment. Instead, she concentrated on sounding as soothing as she could. “Maybe it won’t turn out that way, though. At any rate, I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to help you out if it comes to that. We’ll work out special hours for you so you can keep your job. With the money my Cudd’n M’Dear gave us, I can afford to hire extra clerks to spread the hours around a bit more. I’m going to be interviewing for that very soon.”

  Emma appeared greatly relieved. “Thank you, Miz Maura Beth. The raise you gave me has already helped us a lot. I cain’t keep askin’ my Cissy to give up her spare time and such—she’s found her a nice young man she’s interested in and all and they’ve been goin’ out, so we may have to hire us a sitter for Leonard when neither of us can work it out.”

  “I understand. But the days of the library and its employees getting the short end of the stick are over,” Maura Beth told her, drawing herself up proudly. “You’ve done your part to help out for decades now, so I’ll see you’re taken care of as long as you want to work here. Meanwhile, I just wanted to say again what a great job you and Renette did looking after things while I was on my honeymoon. I knew I didn’t have to worry about a thing.”

  Emma waved her off quickly. “Oh, it was mostly Renette, ya know. She’s the one that really knows what all you want done. I’ve always just taken orders—first from Miz Annie Scott, and now from you and Renette.” There was an awkward silence during which Emma’s face dropped noticeably. “But . . . would you mind if I leaned on your shoulder just a tad bit more?”