The Iced Princess (3 page)

A final check in the mirror confirmed I was good to go in my flowing navy skirt and ivory blouse. My wardrobe was not in the same league as Molly's, but it was of good quality. I had a number of suits, both with pants and skirts, and I often combined a jacket with a nice pair of jeans, or a silk blouse with a skirt. Not too dressy, not overly casual. Just right for me.

—

W
hen I got to work, Pinky was hustling around in her shop, cleaning up after her morning rush. “What are you doing here so early?” she said.

I glanced up at the Betty Boop “Boop-Oop-a-Doop” clock that hung on the wall behind her counter. “I thought I'd get a jump on the day, seeing how we've got some job training to do. I'm going to write down procedures, like how to run the cash register till, how to ring it out, things like that.”

“Good idea. Cami, as long as you're here, would you mind covering for me while I run to the grocery store? I went through more milk and cream this morning than usual.”

“With it getting colder, that makes perfect sense. My parents used to tell me we need to put a little meat on our bones for extra insulation during our long winters. I know I get hungrier when it gets colder.”

“Yeah, I think they're right. Milk and cream definitely add calories.” She grabbed her pocketbook from a cupboard under the counter. “I'll be back in a jiffy.”

A minute later the bell on her door dinged. I tensed up a bit when I saw it was assistant police chief Clinton Lonsbury and wondered why he had that effect on me. Clint wore his usual serious look all the way to the counter. “Good morning. I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I run the adjoining shop and make my way in here from time to time.” As if he didn't know. My words came out with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

He nodded slowly. “Where's Pinky?”

“Running an errand. Do you need her?”

“Not specifically. I stopped in for a cup of coffee.”

Be nice to the patrons, Cami.
“I'm covering for Pinky. What can I get you?”

Clint glanced up at the menu. The featured brew of the day was the Gobbler, a dark blend with spices and cream. “I'll take the special, heavy on the cream.”

My face broke out in a huge smile.

“What's funny?” he said.

“You just gave further support to my parents' theory that we need extra calories in the winter.”

He shrugged. “I guess we do. Shivering in subzero temperatures burns 'em all off.”

I turned and walked to the other side of the counter, keeping my back to him so he wouldn't notice how his comment
tickled my funny bone. I served up his drink and set it down in front of him. He settled down on a seat at the counter and took a slurping sip that was so loud it sounded like he was wearing a microphone.

A shudder ran through me. “Honestly, Clint, with all the cream in there, your coffee cannot possibly be that hot.”

He didn't care in the least. “Force of habit, I guess.”

I considered making it my mission in life to break him of that annoying habit. There must be a guide out there somewhere with tips. There certainly were all kinds of them for things like quitting smoking and biting fingernails and cracking knuckles.

“I'd like a box of a dozen muffins and scones to take back to the station with me. We have a meeting later this morning.”

“Sure. What kind do you want?”

“A mix, half muffins, half scones, is fine. Blueberry is a favorite, so put in a couple of those. And whatever else you pick will work. They'll all go.”

It was nice to have an excuse to make a little noise myself to cover the sound of his slurps. I filled the box and added the extra muffin Pinky always insisted on with a larger order; a baker's dozen. “Here you go. Anything else?”

“Yes, if you could put this in a to-go cup.” He slid his mug toward me.

Thank God, that meant he was going to leave. “Sure thing.” He paid for his purchases and was out the door and on to other things in no time.

Another man came in a little while later, and when I saw who it was, I was too stunned to move. Peter Zimmer was walking toward me, in person. “Your shop door is locked,” he said.

“Uh, um, we don't open until ten,” I stammered until it hit me how angry I was that he had the audacity to come within ten miles of me. “Why are you here? And don't try to tell me something stupid, like you're looking for a gift to cheer up your wife.”

A red flush crept up his neck and colored his face. “It would take more than that. You should have been smart enough to support her campaign. You would have if you planned on returning to D.C. Ramona knows enough people to prevent you from ever getting a job there.”

“Ever? Peter, I cannot believe you are actually threatening me. You're the one who caused the whole fiasco in the first place.”

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I'm willing to put any hard feelings aside if you want to get together to finish what we started.”

I picked up a mug, drew it back like it was a baseball, but stopped before I pitched it at Peter's head. “You need to leave immediately, or I will call the police.”

He glared at me, and a stab of fear pierced me. I wondered if he'd come after me. I wrapped my fingers around a knife Pinky used to cut muffins and scones. If the man took one step closer, I'd hold it up to show him I meant business. Whether I could actually use the knife, I wasn't sure. Even on Mr. Peter Zimmer, the lowest of the low.

Had he truly cared about his wife, or her career, he would not have acted as he did, time and time again. The Zimmers could cast blame on me until hell froze over, but I was not at fault, and the sooner they realized that, the sooner they could get on with their lives. Together or apart, it no longer mattered to me.

Peter turned to leave and literally ran into Pinky in the doorway. He stormed out, forcing her to step aside with her bag of groceries. I rushed over to help her regain her balance.

“Wowser, that guy is either in one big hurry or totally absorbed in something.”

“You're right. He is totally absorbed in something all right: himself. That was Peter Zimmer.”

“
No.
Oh my gosh, I didn't recognize him. In the pictures I saw of him, he was always smiling. He looked kind of scary just now with that scowl on his face. What was he doing here in Brooks Landing? Did he come to apologize to you, or what?”

“Not even close. He is stuck in the same old blame game crap, among other things.”

“Of all the nerve.”

“All I want is to forget about what happened and chalk it up as a life lesson I will never have to study again.” I looked at the time. “We have Emmy and Molly due in a half hour, and I still have to write out those instructions.”

“You're right. We have more important things to concentrate on.” Pinky emptied her grocery bag, put the milk and cream in the refrigerator under her counter, and headed to the back room with the rest of her baking items.

—

E
mmy reported for work at ten minutes to ten, wearing a shy smile, brown woolen pants, and a coordinating earth-toned sweater. Molly arrived a short time later, acting jumpy and dressed like a vagrant. I almost didn't recognize her. Emmy frowned and pursed her lips in disapproval.

Molly stared at my face, which I'm sure displayed total disbelief. “Isn't this okay?” she said.

“Uh, I'll be right back,” I said. Pinky was in the back room, and I hustled to find her. “Wait 'til you see what the cat dragged in. Molly took you literally and I think did a little dumpster diving for clothes the secondhand stores discarded,” I whispered.

“Cami, you must be exaggerating. How bad can it be?” She peeked around the corner for a glimpse at our new help. When she pulled her head back in, both her eyes and mouth were opened wide. “Oh my gosh. She can't serve customers in that getup. You're going to have to tell her.” Her whisper was probably loud enough for Molly to hear.

I shook my head. “Me? You're the one who told her to buy some new used old clothes.”

“Okay, okay.”

We left our hiding place to face the music. Emmy and Molly were still glued to their spots, standing by Pinky's counter. They kept their eyes peeled on us as we walked toward them.

Pinky pointed at a menu. “Emmy, if you want to sit down at the counter here and read over all the coffee and drink specials we offer, that'd be great. Cami and Molly and I are going to get started in Curio Finds.”

Emmy didn't ask any questions. She nodded, sat down, picked up a menu, and minded her own business. Or pretended to, at least. Pinky led the way, followed by Molly then me. She marched to the storeroom in the back of my shop. When we were all inside, I closed the door.

Molly's lips quivered, and it seemed tears would closely follow. “Am I in trouble already?” she said.

“No,” I said.

“Not really,” Pinky said.

“Not really?” Molly said.

Pinky put her hand to her nose. “It's your outfit. I mean, have you been storing it since high school in mothballs?”

Now that we were in a confined space with the door closed, the odor was strong and distinctive. Molly lifted her arm to her nose and inhaled deeply. “I don't have a very good sense of smell. Like I pretty much can't smell at all. I found this sweater and pants at the thrift store. There wasn't a lot in my size, and they were trying to close up for the day, so I didn't have enough time to shop.”

“Molly, I'm sorry, this really isn't what I meant. I should have been more specific. Those old V-neck sweaters are supposed to be worn over a shirt, not without one. I know a lot of women wear low-cut tops, but it would be too much for our customers. If you bent over, we'd see everything. Even with that purple bandana thing tied around your neck,” Pinky said.

“And, no offense, but the way you are stuffed into those gold metallic pants, I don't think you could bend over if you tried,” I added.

Tears filled Molly's eyes then ran down her cheeks. “I was just trying to fit in. I mean, Pinky, you're always wearing pink, so I thought the turquoise top would be a good complement.”

Pinky looked at the wall behind me and pointed. “Cami, what about that outfit? The one you keep here, in case?” Molly and I turned and assessed the outfit Pinky was talking about: a pair of gray pants, a pale gray button-down shirt, and a wool shrug. “You two are about the same size.”

Molly looked at me. “I'm a couple of inches shorter, so the pants will be too long.” Her voice bordered on whining, and I tried my best not to feel irritated.

“Cami, what if you put on the gray outfit and give Molly the one you're wearing? For today, until she can get herself something similar.”

Heaven help me, I said I'd do it. Molly definitely could not work in our shops dressed as she was, and reeking of mothballs besides. There was a hesitant knock on the door. Pinky opened it to Emmy.

“I'm sorry, but there are a number of customers, and I won't be able to help them like you can, not yet, anyway,” Emmy said.

“I'm on it.” Pinky flew out to rescue Emmy.

“Okay, Molly, do you need some help peeling off those pants?” I closed the storeroom door for privacy.

She sniffled. “I can manage.” She did, too, with quite a bit of effort.

I slipped out of my skirt and shirt and laid them on a chair for Molly. Then I put on the spare outfit I kept at Curio Finds in case I spilled coffee all over myself, or if I had to be somewhere after work but didn't have time to go home to change. I used my “in case” outfit every couple of weeks, it seemed.

Molly smelled better as soon as she was out of the thrift store clothes. She threw them in a heap on the floor. “Should I burn them?”

“If you wash them, you could use them for a retro costume.”

“Oh well, I guess I could donate them back.”

“Sure.”

We were both dressed and ready to take on the next challenge. I left the storeroom first and was surprised by the crowd Pinky had in her shop. I went to help her, with Molly at my heels. It was a group of people on a bus trip that had stopped in Brooks Landing to do some antique shopping.

When a number of them wandered into Curio Finds, I left Molly and Emmy in Pinky's capable hands, which she later said was the worst thing I'd ever done to her. I didn't know what she meant until I worked with them myself. It seemed the pressure of having a number of customers to wait on before they were fully trained and the fact that neither one appeared to like the other played a part in their first-day woes.

Emmy came into my shop about five minutes later, looking flustered. “Pinky said if you could go help her, I should mind your store.”

I excused myself from a customer I was helping. “All right. Well, answer whatever questions you can, and come get me if someone wants to buy something.”

Emmy forced out a smile and nodded.

Pinky and Molly were behind the counter. Molly acted like it was the first time she had ever held a cup of coffee in her hands. Her hands were shaking, and the hot brew was spilling out over the top. Pinky was actually sweating. I excused myself through the line of customers and stepped between the two of them. “Molly, why don't you go help Emmy? I'll finish up in here.”

She set the mug down without hesitation, wiped her hands on a towel, got around Pinky, and made her way into my shop without further disaster. Pinky shot me a look that would best be described as pleading. We'd worked her rushes together many times. I took orders from the next four people in line. Four specials coming right up.

I
'd barely finished making and ringing up the drinks when I heard a crash and a cry of, “Oh no!” coming from my shop. Pinky was waiting on the last two people in line, so I broke away without feeling like I was deserting her. Lying on the old enameled ceramic tile floor, in a snow-filled puddle of water, was Marilyn Monroe wearing a long, flowing, strapless turquoise gown. I often admired the collectible globe. Amazingly, the figure was still intact. The water had likely insulated it in the fall.

I looked up from Marilyn to Molly. She was standing with her palms up, as if a police officer had directed her to do so. Her body was shaking, and I thought she might collapse. Three women closed in behind her to survey the damage. But my eyes were drawn to the woman Emmy was following out the door. It was Senator Ramona Zimmer. What in the
world was she doing there? Following her husband, or spying on me?

I ran over to the door, and Emmy turned to me, flustered as could be. “I tried to catch that woman. I think she was the one who broke the globe, but she wouldn't answer me. Should we call the police?”

Thoughts were spinning in my head so fast that it took me a minute to slow them down and process what was going on. Should we involve the police? I turned to the group standing close to Molly. “Looks like we had a little mishap,” I said.

Molly pointed at the snow globe mess on the floor then to a shelf a few feet away. “I was over there helping these ladies and had my back turned when we heard the crash. I don't know what happened.”

Emmy used her thumb to point at the door behind her. “That woman who just ran out was staring at Molly and the others right before the snow globe dropped. She looked like she was waiting for her, so I asked her if I could help her find something. She said she was just looking, so I was going to help someone else. The next thing I knew that snow globe was on the floor in pieces.”

Molly nodded. “When I turned and looked at her the woman got the funniest look on her face, like she was surprised. I thought she was going to apologize for having an accident. I didn't know what had fallen, or if it was even broken. Instead of offering to pay, she headed for the door without a word.”

The three customers agreed with Molly. Had Senator Zimmer come into my shop with the express goal of destroying some merchandise, or was the broken snow globe an accident,
as Molly had supposed? It was freaky enough that Ramona had the guts to be there in the first place. Then to duck out after she had everyone's attention was even freakier.

Emmy walked to the counter and picked up the phone. “Should I call nine-one-one?”

“No, I happen to know that woman, and I'll get to the bottom of it,” I said. If I needed to, that is. I'd think on it and decide if it was worth it. I would just as soon never talk to her again. Ramona had come into my shop the same morning her husband had paid me an unwelcome visit. I didn't believe it was a coincidence. They lived in a town about twenty miles away.

One of the customers said, “You know who that lady looked like? Senator Zimmer, the one who just lost the election.”

“Oh yeah, she does,” another agreed.

Ramona Zimmer may have tried to go incognito in her insulated long coat and animal print winter hat, but I'd recognized her immediately and was surprised the others didn't know who she was. Of course, I'd worked beside her for years, and they had likely never seen her in person. I kept my mouth shut, not ready to either confirm or deny Ramona's true identity.

After the commotion, the women left without making a purchase, and I picked up the pieces of the broken snow globe. I didn't want Molly or Emmy getting glass stuck in their hands. And with the way the day was going, that was sure to be the next mini crisis. The two of them stood in opposite corners of the store, looking like two boxers about to go against each other in the ring. For the tenth time that day, I kicked myself for not following Erin and Mark's advice. Had I known Molly would rub Emmy the wrong
way, I would have suggested to Pinky that we hire Molly since she was the first to inquire. On the other hand, Molly was not proving to be overly capable.

I set Marilyn Monroe on a shelf then bent over to sweep up the glass with a small brush and dustpan I had brought from the storeroom. Lying on the floor next to the largest chunk of glass was a penny. I could have sworn it was not there a moment before. A penny from heaven, or specifically, a penny from my birth mother who, along with my birth father, went to heaven when I was five. I believed it was she who left me a penny once in a while. Sometimes it seemed like she was warning me about something, and sometimes it seemed like she was telling me things would be okay.

Thanks, Mama
.
Yes, my friends and family probably thought I was a bit loony and was imagining things more often than not. But the pennies had appeared out of nowhere when I was lonely or sad or in trouble or when something big was going on.

A second crash sent my eyes heavenward. “I'm so sorry,” Molly said and dropped down to pick up a plate she had knocked off a shelf. It had miraculously landed on one of the small mats lying on the floor and was not broken.

“Oh my stars and garters,” Emmy said and moved in from her corner.

I lifted my hands to form a T. “All right, ladies, let's all relax and get on with a brief training. There are instructions by both the cash register and credit card machine.”

“You don't use a square? A lot of the small businesses do,” Molly said.

“What are you talking about?” Emmy said in a near growl.

Molly drew her thumb and index finger together to indicate
its size. “It's a little square thingy that you connect to your smart phone, and then you can run customers' cards through that.”

Emmy crossed her arms tightly against her waist. “What next.”

The day went downhill from there. After the morning rush, there weren't too many customers, which enabled me to devote more time to training. Not that we got very far. I was relieved when it was lunchtime and Emmy took the meal she had packed over to a table on Pinky's side, and Molly left to get some soup and a sandwich at a nearby deli. Pinky's business had quieted, so I waved her over to have a heart-to-heart. We went behind the counter, and I talked as quietly as possible. Even though Emmy was out of earshot, sometimes voices carried in strange ways.

“Pinky, I'm starting to wonder if Molly isn't putting on an act after all. She's struggling, but maybe that'll ease as time goes on.”

“But she's clumsy besides. That's not a good thing in a shop that's filled with glass items, or in my place where the main task is serving hot coffee.” She tugged at her headband. “Short of murder, how
are
we going to get rid of her?”

“Now, now, we have a few more hours in the day, and it's the first day, after all. We'll do more training and see how it goes.”

“I don't know if I'll make it. I'm not all that smart myself and even I can run a cash register.”

“You are very smart, Pinky. But no matter; Molly's not the only one. Emmy's having problems, too, and she has been crabby—bordering on nasty—to Molly. Which of course makes Molly even more anxious.”

“We'd be better off without either one of them working here, if you ask me.”

“You convinced me we need help for the holidays, so let's not make a hasty decision here. Another day or two will tell us what we need to do. I'll keep them both with me for the rest of the day, and we'll do the coffee shop fifteen minutes at a time here and there until they are comfortable with running the till, at least.” I tapped her arm. “Oh, and something else I've been waiting to share with you for over an hour. You won't believe it.”

“Do tell.” Pinky's eyes grew rounder. She loved hearing stories; the juicier the better.

“You know when we heard that crash earlier and I left to take care of it?”

She thought a second. “Oh yeah, toward the end of that mad rush.”

“You will never in a million years guess who caused it.”

“Justin Bieber.”

“No. Worse. Ramona Zimmer. She dropped the Marilyn Monroe snow globe on the floor and broke it. And then she ran out without even apologizing.”

“Get out of here.”

“It's true. I saw her leave. And I think she did it on purpose. But how would I prove it?”

“That is cold. And downright mean. The fact that she ran out after breaking an item without offering to pay for it screams guilty. I bet you're right, that she did it on purpose.”

“Talk about immature. I think losing the election has made her a little wacky.”

The bell on Pinky's door dinged, and she went back to Brew Ha-Ha. I waited until Molly and Emmy came back from
lunch and were each fairly comfortable with running the cash register and credit card machine then decided I needed a break myself. “Will you two be able to handle the shop while I pick up some lunch and take a walk? It shouldn't be more than thirty minutes.”

Molly and Emmy both raised their eyebrows like they thought I was kidding.

“Don't worry. Pinky is here if you have any questions. Look at the shelves to familiarize yourself with what we have. Some people come in looking for specific things, like a snow globe with a barnyard scene in it. So the more you explore, the more you'll know. My parents have boxes of new things in the storeroom and at their house. Well, they're not all exactly new. Most of them are antique, one of a kind. We'll be adding them as we have room.”

They glanced at the shelves, and as if by mutual agreement, Emmy went one way and Molly went the other. I grabbed my long wool coat from the storeroom, slipped out past Pinky, and told her I'd be back in a half hour.

Then I mouthed the words, “You're the referee,” so her customer couldn't hear me. Pinky gave her head a little shake. “Do you want anything?” I asked.

“Nothing that money can buy.”

I stopped by the Bread Man deli for a bowl of stuffed green pepper soup, one of my cold weather favorites. It was only forty-four degrees, but the sun was shining, so I opted to eat outside. I had my choice of any one of the twelve seats around the three small, round patio tables. The crisp air was refreshing compared to the heat created by the tension in our shops. I spooned soup into my mouth and considered how to make the new situation work. A person couldn't make
another person like someone, but I would try to smooth things over between Emmy and Molly.

Although at that particular moment, I didn't care much for crabby Emmy or needy Molly. I preferred yelling over whining, but not by much. My adoptive mother had created a harmonious home, even with her Italian husband, who could be hotheaded at times. Harmony, that's what I longed for among family and friends. And employees. One of them would have to go if they couldn't be coaxed into getting along.

I finished my soup faster than normal, knowing the last thing Pinky wanted to be in life was a referee. When I got back to Curio Finds, Emmy was scowling, Molly was crying, and Pinky was hiding in her back room. My referee had left the game.

“I was just asking Emmy to show me how to use the credit card machine and she yelled at me,” Molly said.

“Molly, I asked you to step back because you were pushing against me so tightly that I couldn't breathe,” Emmy countered.

“I'm sorry, but I like being close to people.”

“That's suffocating. I live alone and I'm not used to all this togetherness.”

“Okay, Emmy, why don't you come with me? It's slow, so it's a good time for Pinky and me to show you how to make the most popular coffees. Molly, you can get familiar with the categories of items we have on the cash register buttons. And remember that you have to push the sales tax button on every item you sell.”

Molly headed to the spot behind the counter, and Emmy followed me into Pinky's shop. “Read over some of the drinks,
and you can decide what you want to practice making. Look in the fridge under the counter so you know where Pinky keeps the different items. She likes to keep things in the same spots. That way she can reach in without looking. I'll go get her.”

When Pinky saw me, she pretended like she was banging her head against the wall. “Put me out of my misery.”

Instead, I put my hands on her shoulders. “I've got Emmy making coffee. And Molly is working with my till. I think we need to show more confidence in the efforts the two of them are making. And we should keep them separated as much as possible. Emmy needs to lighten up, and Molly needs, well, she needs . . .”

Pinky pushed away from the wall and turned to me. “What she needs may not be something we can help her with.”

The bell on Brew Ha-Ha's door dinged. Pinky straightened up like she was preparing to go into battle. “The afternoon rush is about to begin.”

I checked to see how Molly was doing in Curio Finds. There were no customers milling around, and she was spending more time studying the merchandise on the shelves. I joined Pinky and Emmy behind the counter.

“Emmy, would you check to be sure the tables are all wiped off in the back?” Pinky said.

“I can do that.” She picked up a damp cloth from the counter with one hand and a cup of coffee she'd made in the other. She headed into Curio Finds, and I thought she'd misunderstood what Pinky had asked. But a few seconds later, she reappeared minus the cup of coffee, still armed with the cleaning cloth, and went to check out Pinky's tables.

There were a number of people I didn't know, which was
unusual. More groups of antique shoppers, I learned. Many of them took their coffee and wandered into my shop. I kept an eye as best I could, but most of them seemed to be simply looking. Emmy wandered around, talking to customers in both shops, and it occurred to me that maybe that should be her main role. She could be the first line of defense, answering questions to the best of her ability and refilling coffee cups. Our very own customer service specialist.