The Iced Princess (2 page)

She added the milk mixture and set it on the counter in front of Molly. “Cami and I were just talking about the fact that we have none. Time, I mean. Yes, we have the same twenty-four hours a day like everyone else, but it seems like all we do is work. The hours we spend here are just part of it.”

“Pinky gets up way before dawn to bake her muffins and scones,” I said.

Molly took a sip and closed her eyes in obvious appreciation. “Mmm.” She looked at Pinky like what I said had finally registered. “Oh. My. That's too early.”

Pinky picked up a towel and gave it a quick flick with her wrist. “I love the early morning, watching the sun come up—which it does eventually at this time of year. And I don't mean to complain, because I love what I do, but the extra long hours over the holidays wear on me. I think we should hire someone for the season, someone the two of us can share. But Cami here doesn't think it's such a good idea.”

I held up my hand. “I have to admit it would be nice to have more flexibility, but I'm used to long hours. This is nothing compared to the work time I logged when I was in Washington. I never even kept track.”

“What she's worried about is finding someone we can trust.” Pinky directed a puff of breath at a strand of hair that was touching her cheek.

Molly's eyebrows lifted. “You can trust me.”

“What?” I said, a little worried about where this was going.

“Hire me. I promise to do a good job. And you can trust me.”

Pinky jumped right in. “Molly, I mean no offense, but
you live in a huge house, and your husband makes about a gazillion dollars a year.” We secretly called her “the princess” because of the charmed life we thought she led as the wife of a corporate attorney. One who came from old money besides.

Molly pushed her lips out in a pout. “Most people wouldn't believe that I'm bored and . . . lonely. There, I said it.”

I looked at her, wondering how that was possible when she could do just about anything she wanted. “Why?” I said.

Molly did not hold back. “My husband is never home, and when he is, he's on the phone with some client or other attorney. I've tried different hobbies, but I've finally realized all I really want is the family I didn't have growing up.” Maybe we'd find out what happened that summer between junior and senior year after all.

“Not so good?” I said.

“That doesn't matter now.” Or maybe not. “But if I can't have children, I think a job would really help. It'd make me feel useful again.”

“Molly, we can't pay very much. And you know, there are all kinds of volunteer jobs out there,” I said.

“Yes, there are, and I've done a bunch of volunteering. But when people find out who my husband is, all they do is talk about what a famous attorney he is and how wonderful it must be to be married to him. They don't understand that he's almost always working. Don't get me wrong, when we are alone together, it's wonderful, but it doesn't happen often enough.”

Listening to her story, I actually felt a little sorry for Princess Molly, surprisingly.

“Working here would be so much fun. Please give me a chance.” She was not too proud to beg.

“Pinky and I will talk about it, and we'll let you know if we decide to hire someone, okay?” I felt Pinky's stare burning a hole in my forehead and did not dare look at her.

“Oh, thank you. I'll write down my phone numbers.” Molly dug through the large Coach bag she'd set on the seat next to hers and came out with a flowery notepad and matching pen. She jotted her home and cell phone numbers on a sheet, tore it out, and gave it to me.

I finally braved a look at Pinky. She was staring at Molly with her mouth half open. I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking, but she had herself to blame for starting the whole discussion in the first place. I caught a glimpse of a customer in my store and pointed in that direction. “Gotta go.”

Molly turned on her stool. “Ooh. Can I come with you, learn a little more about the cool things you sell?”

There wasn't a nice way to say no. Besides, she was a fairly regular customer. “You're always welcome in my shop,” was my noncommittal answer.

She jumped up, and by the time I was on her side of the counter, she was already in my shop greeting Mrs. Emmy Anders, an older woman who often stopped by to browse. Emmy was alone and lonely and—it occurred to me—possibly a perfect match for Molly.

Molly moved to Emmy like there was a magnetic pull. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Emmy gave her a guarded look then glanced up at me.

“Emmy Anders, this is Molly Dalton . . . my uh . . . my friend. Molly, this is Emmy, another friend.”

They nodded and smiled at each other.

“I might be applying for a job here,” Molly spit out.

Emmy eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” She might have been thinking there was no way we could afford to pay Molly whatever she was used to earning, given the expensive way she was put together.

“Pinky thought maybe we should have some extra help between Thanksgiving and Christmas,” I said.

“Oh. I'd be happy to help you out, too, on a strictly volunteer basis, of course.”

Twenty minutes ago, I hadn't given a thought to bringing on more staff. And now we had two women who not only wanted the job, but were practically clamoring for it. Pinky and her big mouth.

“That's very nice of you to offer, Emmy.”

“Of course, you'll have to teach me how to run that credit card machine of yours. We didn't have them back when I worked at the hardware store. I'm older, but I can still learn, and I know a fair amount about your merchandise.” Yes, she did.

Molly put a hand on Emmy's arm. “And you wouldn't have to pay me, either.” A little competition going on: two women vying for the same job at no pay—and one that hadn't been officially created yet.

I heard Pinky clear her throat and noticed her standing in the archway between our shops. “Cami and I will mull this over today, and we'll let you both know what we decide sometime tomorrow.” She'd found her voice again.

“This is so exciting. I haven't had a job outside the home in years.” Molly's face brightened.

“Nor have I,” Emmy said. Her wrinkles deepened with a smile as big as I'd ever seen on her face.

—

A
fter Molly and Emmy left, I helped Pinky serve her midmorning coffee break crowd. When the rush was over, I shook my finger at her in a lighthearted way. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wanting to hire temporary help.”

“Holy moly, Cami, I would never have brought it up in front of the princess if I'd had a clue she would practically get down on her knees and beg us to hire her.”

“It threw me for a loop, I can tell you that much. And then Emmy. Golly, I wonder how many people out there might want to work for us.”

“I don't even want to know. Look what happened when the two of them found out we were just considering it.”

“It makes me think there are probably a lot of people who could use some extra money for Christmas gifts.”

“Oh, I'm sure that's true. What I couldn't believe is how I let just a few words slip out, and a minute later we have two new possible employees. And at no cost.”

“But you know very well we couldn't ask them to do that; we'd need to pay them.”

She nodded. “For sure. I wouldn't feel right about it if we didn't. Hey, the good thing is they'd settle for minimum wage, right? So it sounds like you're coming around, thinking we should bring in some help after all.”

“The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I've been trying to be penny-wise, but maybe I've been pound-foolish.” I filled a glass with water.

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to save my parents' money by running this shop alone until my dad, at least, would be back at work.”

“As long as your mom is home recovering, I don't think he wants to leave her side.”

“That is true. It's worked pretty well with the arrangement you and I have helping each other out. But there are times we probably don't offer the best customer service when it gets really busy and people have to wait.”

“You're right about that, which is why we need at least one more person. And you don't have to worry about your parents' finances. I think they have a nice nest egg built up.”

“I know my dad has a sizable pension from all those years he worked for General Mills, but still.”

“‘But still' nothing. If you must know, it was your parents who told me I should figure out a way to make you hire someone in the first place.” Pinky could only hold on to most information for so long, and then she was compelled to spit it out.

“All right, all right, let's do it. Should we put a sign in the window? Help wanted?”

“Cami, I don't want every Tom, Dick, and Harry, or their female versions, walking in and applying. No, let's keep this simple and hire Emmy—heaven help me for saying this—and Molly.”

“Really? Sorry, but you have not always been kind in what you've said about Molly.”

“Well maybe I'm a little jealous.”

“I thought it was because she seems needy.”

“No, that's what
you
thought. I hadn't picked up on that until you mentioned it a while back when we were looking through those old yearbooks.”

I took a drink of water. “That's right. Now we know a little about why she's the way she is. And it sounds like we'll actually be doing her a favor by giving her something to do. She can donate her paychecks to whatever cause she wants to.”

Pinky nodded. “And Emmy should be fine; maybe better in your shop than mine.”

“True. If we're swamped and all she does is run the cash register, that'll be fine with me.”

“Holy moly, we better talk to your folks and find out what we need to do, legally speaking, to hire people.”

S
choolteacher Erin Vickerman and Brooks Landing police officer Mark Weston, our mutual friends from childhood, came into Pinky's coffee shop just after 4:00 p.m. Erin asked Pinky and me to join them and headed to the tables in the back area. Erin grabbed the back of a pink padded black metal chair, and Mark stood to her right behind a black padded one.

“Are you calling some sort of emergency meeting?” I said, noticing the way Erin's jaw was set and how her dark, almond-shaped eyes had narrowed.

Pinky fell in next to me.

Erin came around to our side of the table, reached her arms up high, and placed the inside of her wrists on Pinky's forehead and on mine. “When Pinky talked to Mark earlier and told him you were thinking of hiring the princess to help
out here, I thought we'd better stop in and check to see if the both of you had spiked a fever.”

“Very funny, Erin,” I said then reached up and tapped her hand. She pulled her arms down and crossed them on her chest.

Pinky nodded up and down as she talked. “I hear you, my friend. Who knew?”

Mark was in uniform and stuck his thumbs into his duty belt. “The question I have is, how are you going to get rid of Molly when she doesn't work out?”

I felt an unexplained sense of loyalty to Molly. “Now, let's not jump the gun here. First off, we have not given her a job offer yet. And what ever happened to giving someone the benefit of the doubt?”

“Cami's right. I have to say the princess seemed really eager to work here in our shops. It was a big surprise to me, since she can go anywhere in the world and do anything she wants. She could buy her own store to run, for heaven's sake. It just goes to show you never know about some people,” Pinky said.

“That is the truth. I find that out just about every day on the job,” Mark said.

We sat down to finish our conversation.

Erin tapped her fingers on the table. “I know it's not up to us, and it'll only be a short time she'll be working here, but . . .”

“But what?” I asked.

“This is going to sound insulting to the two of you.” Erin pointed at Pinky and me.

I couldn't imagine what she had to say. “Just spit it out. We're big girls.”

“And I'm the biggest,” Pinky said. She was, at that. At
five-ten, she had four inches over me, and we both measured over five foot—even Erin.

“Well, she's kind of high society. Since your businesses cater more to regular people, they might feel a little intimidated by Molly's appearance,” Erin said.

Pinky frowned. “Do you think we should tell her to dress down?”

“No, I don't think you should bring her on at all. She is not exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree,” Erin said.

I lifted my palms up and then clapped my hands together. “Molly's not as dumb as she sometimes acts. Remember back in the earlier years of high school? She was super smart.”

Mark reached over and bumped Erin's arm. “That's right. Back when she flew under the radar, she kept to herself and got good grades. I kind of forgot about that. She's been more on the flashy, uppity side for so long.”

Erin nodded. “I forgot about that, too. When did the princess move to Brooks Landing? Was it in ninth or tenth grade?”

“Ninth,” Pinky said.

“That's right. The first time I saw her at any after-school events was senior year. I'm a little ashamed to admit this, but I didn't really notice her before then. I never had a class with her.”

“We had English and algebra together junior year. Mark, you were in our algebra class,” I said.

Mark shook his head. “Don't remind me. Old man Fingen made me sit in the front row, and I got yelled at if I turned around. I don't think Molly and I said a word to each other all year.”

“I talked to her senior year when she was suddenly more outgoing,” I added.

“Maybe if we hire her, we'll find out what it was that made her change back then.” Pinky loved prying into people's personal lives.

“Really, girls, there are plenty of folks who are looking for a job. And like Mark said, how are you going to get rid of her if she doesn't work out?” Erin said.

I gave Pinky a quick look. “Actually, we're thinking of hiring Emmy Anders, too.”

Erin's eyebrow's shot up. “Emmy? She's like a hundred and four.”

“Be nice, Erin,” Pinky said.

“I know she isn't exactly young. I think she's somewhere in her seventies, maybe late sixties. But she's sharp and seems younger than that,” I said.

Erin narrowed her eyes like she thought the opposite was true.

“We figured between Molly and Emmy, we'll get by with all the help we need,” Pinky added.

“Emmy does not like me, I can tell you that much,” Mark said.

That surprised me. “What do you mean?”

“Every time she sees me, she turns tail and runs.”

“You must be imagining it,” I said.

“Cami, I know that I'm not. Facts are facts. The first couple of times I thought it was a fluke. Then when you girls had that snow globe–making class last month, I tried talking to her and she acted like she didn't hear me.”

“Maybe she didn't,” Erin said with a smile.

“Or maybe she thinks you're cute and she's embarrassed, thinking that you might pick up on how she feels,” Pinky said in a teasing tone.

Mark patted his chest and smiled. “It is a challenge I face almost every day.”

Pinky, Erin, and I all groaned. There was no argument that Mark was tall and great looking and fit. Of the three of us, Erin was the only one who'd had romantic feelings for him. They'd dated in high school, but things had cooled between them and never really heated up again after they left for separate colleges. I knew Mark still loved Erin and would gladly rekindle their romance.

“Really, Mark, do you think you said something offhand that might have offended her?” Erin said.

Mark's shoulders hitched up. “No, not that I know of. Maybe I remind her of someone she has a problem with, or maybe it's because she just doesn't like cops.”

“Why on earth wouldn't she like cops?” I said.

“Maybe I'll ask her what's up. If I can ever get her to look at me, that is.”

“Well, if Emmy comes to work here, she'll be one of us in no time and will come to love you as much as we do.” Pinky smiled then added, “We'll make her. Right, Cami?”

“Right.”

Pinky leaned in. “And guess what else happened today? Cami got a not-very-nice phone call from her old boss, the soon-to-be-former senator.”

Erin rolled her eyes then focused them on me. “What could she possibly want from you, a little more of your blood, maybe? She already put an end to your rising career.”

“Now, Erin, technically it was the senator's husband who did that,” Mark said.

“Technically, Mark, you are right. But it was up to the senator to give her guilty husband the boot. Instead, she gave it to
Cami, who was totally innocent. And Senator Zimmer is smart enough to know better,” Erin said.

“You'd think,” Pinky said.

I stood up. “You know what, my friends? I can't talk about this anymore. Pinky and I have work to do and people to hire.”

“Cami—”

Erin's protest was interrupted by the ding of the bell on Pinky's shop door. Assistant police chief Clinton Lonsbury strolled in like he had a purpose. He nodded at Erin, Pinky, and me, then directed his words at Mark. “I saw your car parked outside so I figured it's just as easy to stop in and give you an update on the Harmon case.” He raised his hand and waved in the direction of a back table. “If I can borrow Mark for a few minutes, girls?”

The way he asked us if he could borrow Mark made it sound like he was snatching him away from his fan club. The man was irritating, I'd give him that much. And the worst part was he was put together in a very attractive package. Pinky called him “eye candy.” I secretly agreed with her.

I'd known Clint back when we were in high school, but I hadn't had any real contact with him until I discovered the dead body of the most unpopular man in Brooks Landing last month. I was thrown into the large mix of suspects in the murder investigation. All because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and did the wrong thing when I saw a knife sticking out of the victim's back. Yes, it was stupid of me to grab the knife to see if it was really stuck, but it was an honest mistake, a natural reaction to a shocking situation, if you ask me. The police officials, however, did not see it that way. Eventually, it was all sorted out and the real killer was named. Sadly, it was
our older friend, Archie Newberry, who under ordinary circumstances would not even hurt another human being.

Mark left our table, and he and Clint sat down at another. Erin, Pinky, and I took that as our cue to leave. We headed into Curio Finds together.

“Well, I have errands to run, so I'll catch you two later,” Erin said.

“Adios, and don't worry your pretty little head about our short-term help,” Pinky said to Erin's back as she went out the front door. Erin turned and waved.

“So we're good? Or did Erin and Mark going ballistic on us make you change your mind?” Pinky said.

“Their reaction kind of surprised me. And as much as I value their opinions, I say we give our two ladies a call and see if they still want a job.”

“Okay, I'll call the princess—I can't believe I'm offering to do that—and you call Emmy. Let's see if they can start tomorrow so they're trained before Thanksgiving.”

“Sounds good to me. And you need to get out of the habit of calling her the princess, my friend.”

Pinky lifted her hands in the air and gave them a shake. “I suppose.” Her shop phone rang and she left to answer it.

I was about to call Emmy when Mark and Clint popped their heads into the archway between the shops on their way out.

“Think about what Erin and I said,” Mark said.

“Good-bye, Camryn,” Clint said.

I'd legally changed my name from Cami to Camryn before I went to Washington because it sounded more professional. My family and oldest friends still called me Cami, but since
Clint and I had gotten off on the wrong foot, I stubbornly insisted he call me by my proper name. Maybe it was silly, or childish, but since he got under my skin so often, I felt compelled to do so.

“Have a good night, officers,” I said, mildly curious about what they were working on. Police work intrigued me, but the thought of carrying a gun was enough to throw me into a mild panic attack. And driving fast with sirens blaring and lights flashing would be too far outside my comfort zone to even consider. Not to mention what I'd do if I had to run after a bad guy who was escaping. I was the slowest runner I knew, and I'd be the laughingstock of the town. According to Mark, police officers had to pass certain fitness standards. Although, looking at some of the out-of-shape people in uniform, it made me wonder what standards those departments had. But that was another matter.

I picked up the phone to call Emmy as Pinky poked her head in the archway. “Princess Molly will be here at ten o'clock tomorrow. And I told her to dress in normal clothes.”

“Pinky, what did you say, exactly?”

“I was tactful, sort of. I suggested she make a trip to the secondhand store if she had time today to pick up something less expensive than she usually wears.”

“You did not.”

“That's pretty much what I said.”

Oh Lord. Maybe I should have made the call. “Did she sound like you insulted her?”

“Insulted her? I don't think so. Maybe she sounded a little surprised when she said, ‘Okay.'” The bell on her door dinged, so she left to wait on her customers.

Emmy answered the phone with more cheer in her voice
than usual. When I told her we'd love it if she would help us out over the holidays, a small squeal popped out of her mouth. “I will be there promptly at ten o'clock tomorrow morning when you open your shop, Camryn.”

“Wonderful. And to let you know, Pinky and I decided to hire both you and the, um, I mean Molly Dalton.”

Her balloon of enthusiasm instantly deflated. “Oh. Well, I'll do my best to get along with her.”

“Emmy, do you have a problem with Molly?”

She hesitated. “No, no, not really. It'll be fine.”

“All right then. We'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, and thank you.” Her voice had quieted, and I hoped it wasn't because she didn't want to work with Molly. They would be sharing a position, so they wouldn't be working together often, but there were times they would be.

I found Pinky behind her serving counter washing mugs. “I'm wondering if Erin and Mark were right. Maybe we should have advertised for help. You have to tell Molly what not to wear, and Emmy seems less than thrilled Molly will be her partner in crime.”

“Cami, it will all work out. You know how fast time goes. Christmas will be here before you know it, then Molly and Emmy can go back to their normal routines, and we'll go back to ours.”

“I suppose. How bad can it be?”

We had no idea it would go from bad to worse to worst.

—

I
barely slept a wink that night wondering how the next day's training would go. Since Molly and Emmy would be working limited hours for less than six weeks, my parents suggested
that we hire them on as contract workers to avoid all the extra paperwork required by the state for regular employees. They had both agreed to those terms, and neither cared what they got paid, or if they got paid at all.

I rolled out of bed wishing I had slept more than a few hours but hopeful things would go well. I showered and dressed and put on my usual light dose of makeup without trying to cover the light freckles that sprinkled my nose and cheekbones. A few people had told me they gave me a youthful look. I was thirty-seven and never really thought about how old I looked. And I had quit fretting about the generous curves I carried.