Sinister Sprinkles Part 31

"I'm on the front porch, you nit."

I jumped up from the couch, and we met at the door.

"Welcome home," I said.

"I can say the same thing to you, can't I?"

I nodded. "I'd say that's just about the perfect thing to say right now."

Grace, Momma, and I were just getting ready to eat the Christmas feast my mother had prepared when the front door rang.

Momma said, "Suzanne, would you get that? I've got my hands full."

"Who on earth comes calling on Christmas day?" I asked.

"I suppose you'll have to go to the door and see."

When I opened it, I'd been expecting one of my friends, or even a band of carolers. What I didn't expect was to find Jake Bishop standing there, his hat literally in his hands.

"Jake? What are you doing here?"

He looked like he was about to cry, and then he said, "I'm transporting Wilma Jackson to Raleigh."

"They don't usually make you do that, do they?"

I could see the vulnerability in his eyes. "They don't, but I requested this a.s.signment. I wanted to see you."

I shook my head. "We've said all we need to say to each other," I said. "Good-bye, Jake."

"What if I'm not ready to say that?" he said as he put a hand on the door, holding it open.

"You aren't ready to say anything else," I said. "It's okay, Jake, I understand."

"Suzanne, I know I've been a complete fool, but I'm trying here, okay? At least give me a chance."

"You had your chance," I said. I was still hurt by the way he'd thrown me away, like a wrapper he was finished with, no matter what his reasons had been.

"You're with him, aren't you?" he asked, as he tried to look past me, inside the house.

"Him? Who are you talking about?"

"Max. He's in there. I just know it."

I laughed, despite the way I felt seeing him again. "Jake, Max and I are ancient history, and he's finally gotten the message. I'm tired of looking back. It's time to focus on what's ahead."

He looked relieved by my admission, then said, "If there's room for me, I'd like to be a part of that."

"I can't," I said. "Or more importantly, you can't. You live in the past, and I'm not saying I blame you, but I can't compete with your dead wife."

"I don't want you to," he said, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. "I need a chance to start over."

"I just wish it was that easy," I said. "Maybe if we were just meeting for the first time, if we could wipe everything that's happened between us away, things could be different. Good-bye, Jake."

"Good-bye," he said.

I closed the door, not even daring to allow myself to watch him drive away. Turning Jake down was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but it was for the best. I'd meant what I'd said. If we could start fresh, maybe things would work out between us, but too much had happened.

Maybe there were no do-overs in life.

I started back to the kitchen when there was another knock on the door.

Despite my attempt to slow myself to a sedate pace, I ran toward it, suddenly hoping against hope that he wasn't giving up after all.

Jake was there again, and I started to say something when he said, "Hi, my name's Jake Bishop, and my car seems to be stuck in the slush. Would you mind if I use your phone?"

I raised one eyebrow, and he continued, "What's your name?

"Suzanne Hart," I said hesitantly.

He offered his hand, and I took it. "Suzanne, it's a pleasure to meet you." Jake paused, then said, "Pardon me for saying so, but that smells delightful."

I couldn't help myself. I'd meant everything I'd said to him, and yet he'd been willing to put himself out there.

The least I could do was meet him halfway.

"We're having Christmas dinner," I said. "Would you like to stay? I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind."

"I'd hate to impose," he said, his smile still bright.

I tugged on his arm and pulled him inside. "Okay, enough with the role playing. Now, are you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to throw you out again?"

He stepped forward and took me in his arms as he said, "Well, if you put it that way ..."

And then it was very good being me again.

Read on for an excerpt from

EVIL ECLAIRS.

The Next Donut Shop Mystery by Jessica Beck, Coming soon from St. Martin's / Minotaur Paperbacks!

Owning and running a donut shop is not for the faint of heart. If I'm going to get anywhere close to the minimum six hours of sleep I need before I get up at one a.m. every morning, I have to be in bed by seven every night.

Tonight I'd pushed my bedtime back too far and I knew I'd pay for it in the morning. As I drifted off to sleep just after eight, I heard the name of my donut shop mentioned on the radio. That was odd, since I had never been able to afford even their low advertising rates to tout my specialty donut and coffee shop.

Then I realized that Donut Hearts wasn't being said with any affection. Lester Moorefield, the local news jockey on WAPS, was on another one of his diatribes, and this time, evidently I was his target.

"Donuts are a perfect example of how we are slowly killing ourselves. To give you just one instance, I sat in my car across the street from Donut Hearts this morning, and in one hour, I saw countless overweight or downright obese people stumbling out of the place with glazed looks on their faces and powdered sugar on their lips. Suzanne Hart feeds this sickness within her customers, catering to their base cravings like some kind of dealer. Her products are toxic, deadly dough, if you will, and we in the community need to take a stand. I propose that over the next seven days, the citizens of April Springs, and all within the sound of my voice in North Carolina, boycott this shop, and others of its ilk, and stand up to those who would enslave us with their tempting, but fatal offerings."

Suddenly I was wide awake.

Momma was sitting by the radio downstairs, and from the expression on her face, she hadn't missed a word of Lester's diatribe, either. I'd barely taken the time to throw on some sweatpants and an old T s.h.i.+rt before I'd raced downstairs.

"That man is a menace to society," she said. "Someone should stop him." Though my mother was slight in nature, barely five feet tall, she more than made up for it with her fierce spirit.

"He's gone too far this time," I agreed as I threw on my running shoes. I wouldn't win any "best dressed" awards for my ensemble, but I wasn't about to take time to consider my wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" Momma asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked as I struggled with one shoelace that had somehow managed to knot itself into a mess. "I'm going to go see him at the station."

"Suzanne, don't do anything reckless."

"Why not?" I asked. I was about to get a knife to cut the lace's knot when it started to come loose of its own accord. "In a situation like this, sometimes that's exactly what's called for."

Momma stood and looked at me. "One thing I learned early on: you should never pick a fight with a lawyer or someone who has their own bully pulpit. I don't like it any more than you do, but if you leave Lester alone, tomorrow he'll move onto his next victim and you can go about your business."

There, the knot came free. "Momma, too many people roll over and play dead for that man. Well, not me. If he wants a fight, he's got one."

I grabbed my jacket as I started for the door. It was early April, and the weather could be chilly in the evening and still have a hint of real warmth during the heat of the day.

Momma stood and reached for her own coat.

I stopped in my tracks. "Where do you think you're going?"

"With you, of course," she said, clearly puzzled by the question.

"Momma, I love you with all my heart, but this is my battle, not yours."

I may have tweaked her a little with the declaration, but it had to be said. I'd given up a great deal of my independence when I'd moved back in with her after my divorce from Max, and I found myself reverting back into old habits sometimes. But I had to do this by myself. I was a grown woman, able to fight my own wars.

Her jacket went back on the rack, and I found myself trying to soften the blow. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I have to do this alone. You understand, don't you?"

"Suzanne, I'm not a child. Of course you're right. Sometimes I forget that you're a not a child anymore."

"A small part of me will always be your little girl. You know that, right?"

She looked pleased by my comment. "You should go now so you can catch him in the act. It's like housebreaking a puppy. If you don't point out the mistake to them right away, they'll never learn."

"I'll rub his nose in it, all right," I said with a grin. "Wish me luck."

She smiled at me. "I have a feeling it's Lester, not you, who will need the luck."

"I believe you're right."

I got into my Jeep and drove to the radio station on the outskirts of April Springs. As I started my way across town, I pa.s.sed Grace Gauge's place. Grace and I had grown up together, and she'd been my best friend just about my entire life. We'd stayed close, and the years had done nothing to dull our bond.

And then I came to Donut Hearts. It was odd seeing my old converted train depot this time of night. I always felt a tug when I saw the place. I'd bought my shop almost as a whim on the heels of my divorce from Max, but it had been the best stroke of luck I've ever had in my life. The shop kept me busy, alive, and connected to the world around me. It also made it tough feeling sorry for myself after my marriage fell apart. In truth, I was just about too busy to notice.

I drove past the town clock, and soon enough, I saw the police station. I thought of Jake Bishop when I did. He was an investigator for the state police, and had recently added being my steady boyfriend to his resume. We'd had some rocky spots in our relations.h.i.+p from the start, but since the previous Christmas, we'd managed to overcome most of them. I knew that he'd done his best to get over his late wife, and I was glad that I'd been patient until he was ready to move on with his life.

Jake was turning out to be worth the wait, after all.

Soon enough, I was in the parking lot of our local radio station, WAPS. I'd feared for a moment that Lester had taped his editorial, since he had a live program he broadcast every morning, but lucky for me, his car was in the parking lot, along with another that had to belong to his producer. I'd never been a fan of Lester's, but I really liked Cara La.s.siter. She'd helped me before when I'd had trouble with Lester, and I was kind of surprised she hadn't warned me what was coming.

I knocked on the door, and I saw the TV camera about it swing around to me.

"Cara, it's Suzanne."

The door buzzed, and I walked into the building.

She met me before I managed to get three paces inside. "Suzanne, I would have warned you about what he was doing, but I had no idea who he was skewering tonight. By the time I could have called you, it would have been too late to do anything about it, and he would have fired me in the bargain."

"I don't have a problem with you," I said. "Where is he?"

She looked around the small station. "I don't know; he was right here a second ago. He just signed off the air for the night."

I looked into the booth, and then his small, but neat office. It too was empty. "Where is he, then?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say that he's probably on his way out to grab a quick smoke."

I looked back at the way I'd come. "I didn't see him go out."

"He uses the employee entrance. Suzanne, you can't win with him, you know that, don't you?"

"Maybe not, but I'm not just going to take it."

I started for the door. "Care to come with me? You can be a witness."

Cara grinned at me. "I'd love to, but if he knew I was watching you ream him out, he'd fire me for sure."

"I understand. Maybe you can watch on the security camera."

I went out the door, and sure enough, there was Lester, leaning against his car with a glowing cigarette in his hand. From the streetlight across the way, I could see him just fine. Lester was a tall and lean man, with a sharp nose and eyes that didn't miss much. His hair was greased back with some kind of product, and he wore a suit that hadn't been in style for years.