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Home to Chapel Springs (Volume 3)

By Ane Mulligan

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Chapel Springs
f all the days to be late. Claire Bennett stormed up the boardwalk toward Dee’s ’n’ Doughs. Any other morning, the storefronts, with their brightly striped awnings, created a cheerful rainbow
on Sandy Shores Drive. Not today. Skullduggery was afoot in Chapel Springs.
The bells clattered a loud jangle as she plowed through the bakery door. Patsy already occupied their favorite table by the window where, whenthefogwasn’tsothick, theycouldwatchthelakeandtheboardwalk. Claire nodded hello and went to the counter for coffee. Normally, the aromatic bouquet made her mouth water and sent her taste buds into a frenzy of expectation. Today, all she tasted was bitterness.
“Morning, Claire.” Dee poured a mug of coffee, adding a splash of cream and a packet of stevia, and then pushed it across the counter. “You’re late. What’s up?” Her cheeks, still red from the oven’s heat, glowed in her round, jolly face.
Claire lifted one corner of her upper lip in a grimace. “Come sit with us. I don’t want to have to tell this twice.”
She settled herself in a chair so both the street and the front door were in her line of sight, where she could keep an eye out for that traitor, Howie Newlander. Next to her, Patsy had a pad and pencil out and ready. Claire had already alerted her to Howie’s deviousness.
“Thanks. We’re going to need that for a battle plan.”
“I still can’t believe he’s back.” Patsy took a sip of steaming coffee. “Believe it. It’s not out of character, you know.”
The bells jingled merrily and Ellie Grant entered, followed by Lydia and her sister, Lacey, who didn’t see them until Lydia pointed to them. They waved, Lacey blushed, and after getting coffee and bagels, joined her and Patsy. Dee followed them to the table, and Claire dragged over another chair for her. Once everyone settled down, she’d tell them what Howie was up to.
“When’s your art show?” Dee asked. “My aunt in Philly wants one of your whimsy pots.”
“The twenty-first.” Claire glanced at Patsy. “I don’t have one single piece ready.”
Patsy’s hand paused on its way to her mouth. “That’s because you’re so picky.” She popped a bite of pastry between her lips. “Dee, you have to make these a regular item. The pear is to die for.”
“I’m not picky.” Claire removed the stir stick from her coffee. “I just want to try some new ideas.”
“Uh-huh. You have plenty of things in the storeroom.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Those are ordinary pieces for tourists. I wanted to have something new and innovative for the show.”
Ellie’s head followed the conversation like it was a Ping-Pong ball. “What more can you do that’s truly innovative? You’re the best there is.” Heat rose in Claire’s cheeks. Compliments made her squirm, especially from friends. “That’s a good question. Give me a few frantic
hours and I’ll come up with ... with something.”
Known as one of the country’s top pottery artists for her unusual coloration and form, Claire had to come up with a new idea, unless she wanted to relinquish her standing in the fickle art world, which she didn’t. Just thinking about it gave her a headache.
“How’s your mother, Ellie?” Dee asked.
The librarian squeezed lemon into her tea and stirred it with a sigh that sounded as heavy as a sandbag. “The air pressure change has her in bed. It’s murder on rheumatoid arthritis.” She mumbled something and sipped her tea.
Claire leaned closer. “What was that?”
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “Let’s just say she isn’t exactly a candidate for Miss Congeniality today.”
Was she ever? Ellie had been under her mother’s thumb all her life. Claire couldn’t understand why she allowed her mama to be so domineering. If it were her, she’d—hmm, what would she do? There wasn’t anyone else. Ellie’s sisters left town years ago. The wimps.
Claire swallowed the last of her coffee and signaled Patsy. It was time to let her friends in on what Claire had heard. “I saw Howie Newlander buying groceries yesterday in Lund’s. A whole cartload.”
Patsy brushed her hands together. Fritter frosting crumbs scattered across the table. “What’s he doing here?”
Lydia frowned. “I thought he went back to wherever it was he lived.” “Greenville, and apparently not.” Claire didn’t trust Howie. He was always a sneaky one, even as a kid. “He was seen skulking around the springs, and then Felix called me. Apparently, Howie has picked up the
paperwork to run for mayor.”
“What?” Dee slapped her hand against the table. “He’s trying to pay us back for ending his land sale. That wasn’t our fault.”
“It has to do with money, you can count on it.” Ellie wrapped her hands around her teacup. “Money and power.”
Eyes narrowed, Lydia pursed her lips. “Whatever could he gain by it? It’s not like being mayor pays much more than a stipend.”
“Well, you can bet he’s up to no good. He’ll figure out a way to take advantage of the position if he wins.” Claire gazed pointedly at each of her friends. “Let’s all keep an eye on him. I want to know why he’s lurking at the springs. And we can’t let him become our mayor.”
Dee looked skeptical. “You don’t think that could happen, do you?” “I wouldn’t put it past him to try to buy votes. We have a lot of
summer people who can vote in our elections.”
“Why would anyone vote for that skunk?” Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Because he could give them a pack of lies.”
“You don’t know that for a fact.” Patsy wagged a finger at Claire. “You’re kidding, right? After what he tried to do to us?”
Lacey folded her napkin. “She’s right, Patsy. I found quite a few discrepancies in that land deal. Howie isn’t any George Washington.”
Surprised their normally silent friend said that much, Claire smiled her thanks. “All I’m saying is one of us needs to be watching him all the time. While I’m not Felix’s biggest fan, at least he loves this town as much as we do. Howie couldn’t wait until he was out of school to hightail it out of here.” A bitter taste filled her mouth. How dare he come here and run for mayor? “Don’t we have some ordinance about living here for six months or a year or something?”
Ellie pursed her lips. “I can tell you this. He kept his legal residence listed at his grandparents’ house.”
Claire’s heart hit her toes. “We’re going to have to fight him. Patsy, take some notes. We need to know who he’s talking to and what he told them. Then we go tell them the truth.”
“You’ll need facts, Claire,” Lacey said. “Proof of your statements.” “If we can find out what he’s doing, I’ll get the proof.”
Dee refilled their cups from the pot she’d brought to the table. “We’ll all keep our eyes and ears open, Claire. None of us want that weasel as our mayor.” She set the pot on an adjoining table. “Patsy, how’s the romance between Chase and Nicole?”
Whoa, Dee changed direction on that conversation faster than a UGA Bulldogs running back. Claire stirred sweetener into her refreshed coffee. Chase and Nicole. At one time, she had hoped their gallery assistant would marry her son, Wes, instead of Patsy’s, but she had to admit they were perfect for each other. Claire hadn’t liked it when they bamboozled her plans, but in the end, it was all right.
Patsy beamed. “Chase proposed last night. Mama gave him Nana’s engagement ring for Nicole.”
Ellie sighed, Lacey grinned, and Claire swallowed her coffee so fast it burned her throat. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” She thunked down the mug and wiped drops of coffee off the table where it splashed over the cup.
Patsy shrugged. “We both knew it was coming. Anyway, I thought Chase told you.”
“He only hinted.” Claire loved her BFF’s kids like they were her own.
And vice versa.
Lydia smirked. Technically still a newlywed, she was all about romance. “Those two were made for each other.”
“Chase and Nicole are like our Wes and Costy,” Claire said. “They complete each other.”
Patsy elbowed her and laughed. “You didn’t always feel like that.”
She was right. Claire loved her new daughter-in-law now and couldn’t imagine a better fit for her Wes, but it had taken a while—and a large dose of surrendered pride. “Yeah, well, I thought mail-order brides were something from the nineteenth century, not the twenty-first.”
“God works in mysterious ways.”
Patsy’s gotcha smile irked Claire. “How come you’re always right?
It’s downright unnatural.”
The others laughed, and even she couldn’t help but smile. “I say that a lot, don’t I?”
“Claire, sugah, y’all might have a chance if you slowed down an itty bit,” Lydia said. Her sweet smile and Alabama drawl always softened the sharp edges of any criticism. Why, she could lambaste the mayor and he’d stand there, waitin’ for another helping.
Claire had to admit Lydia was right though. Her mouth started moving before her brain engaged, which usually got her into trouble. She tried to keep her thoughts to herself and not blurt them out, but her tongue had a mind of its own—one that seemed disconnected from her common sense.
She received a sympathetic grimace from Ellie, who then turned to Lacey and asked, “How’s the new script coming?”
Bless her heart, Ellie succeeded in taking the focus off Claire’s near
faux pas.
“Good.”
A few months ago, Lacey surprised them all by presenting an original script to the director at Curtain Call, the community theater in Pineridge. She had loved it, produced it, and when it was a hit, asked Lacey for another one.
“Well? What’s it about?” Claire rotated her hand, motioning for Lacey to tell them more as she took the last bite of her raspberry Danish.
“Murder.”
“Murder? You mean like a mystery?” Claire licked the corners of her mouth, checking for stray frosting crumbs. Hmm, maybe they could put Howie in this play.
Lacey nodded. “Is it funny?”
Lacey had a hidden funny bone that came out in her writing. “Jake thinks so.”
“My brother-in-law would think your left elbow was funny.” Lydia laughed when her sister wrinkled her nose.
“But she is funny ... on paper.” Patsy kicked Claire’s ankle. “Ouch. Why—oh. I guess that didn’t come out right, huh? What I mean is Lacey’s so quiet, nobody would know if she were funny. Van Gogh’s ear, that doesn’t sound right, either.”
She drained the last of her coffee, crossed her arms, and swallowed while everyone laughed. At least Lacey chuckled with them, so Claire hadn’t offended her. “We need to resurrect the Lola Mitchell Opera House for the Lakeside Players. That would be something else for tourists to do in the evening, and if we produced original plays, why, we’d sell out every night.”
“I know y’all painted the outside, but what’s the inside like?” Lacey asked. “I’ve never been in it.”
Claire pulled a napkin from the dispenser. “It’s been boarded up for the last thirty-five or forty years. Somebody started a rumor in the late eighties or somewhere thereabouts that it was haunted.” She wiped her mouth. “Some say it’s a friendly ghost, maybe Aunt Lola. I never saw any evidence of one, but it’s not a bad rumor. People love things like that.”
“But do you think,” Lacey paused and leaned forward, her chin on her fists, “it’s possible?”
“I don’t know. I’d love to get back in there and restore it, though.” Claire glanced around the table at her friends. “It’s gorgeous inside. Decorated like the nineteen-thirties. Do y’all think there’s enough interest to start a campaign?”
Lydia’s eyes sparkled. “I do. A number of my clients have asked what they can do at night around here. So far, most tend to go into Pineridge. We need to keep those dollars in Chapel Springs.”
The front door opened. Dee rose to see to the customers but stopped and pointed to the front window. “Claire, is that your Melissa with Bobby? Is she dating him again?”
As if she’d bitten into a persimmon, Claire’s mouth puckered. “They’re both working on his daddy’s reelection campaign. ’Lissa wanted to get some experience for her senior thesis. I don’t know why she couldn’t have chosen Ellie’s campaign instead.”
Lydia’s head swiveled toward Ellie. “You’re running for mayor?” Ellie shook her head. “Town clerk reelection.”
Claire pushed the sugar packets toward Ellie, who’d just refilled her cup. “But y’all haven’t heard the craziest thing. Felix has asked me,” she jabbed her index finger to her chest, “Me—to help him.”
“What?” Patsy’s shocked expression mirrored how Claire felt when Felix asked her. “When did he ask you that?”
“Last night.” She lowered her voice. “Howie is running on some trumped up green crusade. Doesn’t that beat all?”
“My word,” Lydia said. “You working with Felix … is like … well, I declare I can’t even think of a simile for that. It’s beyond oil and water. As for Mr. Newlander, how can he think he’d have the slightest chance of gettin’ elected after what he tried to pull over on Chapel Springs?”
“I don’t know, and it has me worried.”
The whole subject turned Claire’s gray funk to puce. She pushed her chair back. “I’ve got to go. I have a new employee arriving today. Ellie, tell your mother I hope she feels better soon. And Lacey, let’s you and me get together about restoring the theater. Let Kelly know, too.”
Patsy jumped up and followed Claire, grabbing her hand. “What new employee? You didn’t tell me you hired someone. Who is it?”
“Mel. Remember? Goth girl from our night in the pokey.”

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