Page 13 of Charlotte's Story
This definitely wasn’t how I imagined the first day of married life, but then again, the more I tried to predict life, the more it sent curveballs.
I passed the church, the small white structure somewhat blending into the snow-dusted landscape. Brexton was outside, his pointed ears covered by a pair of fuzzy earmuffs as he mended a piece of broken wood in the picket fence. Tiny sparks drifted from his fingers to the wood, which knit itself together.
“Good morning, Brexton,” I called as I passed.
“Hi, Charlotte.” He waved at me, but for a second it looked like he frowned. Or maybe I’d misread his expression in the morning light.
Had he heard what happened? Seeing him out working, doing something Firth should’ve been doing, slowed my steps. It was hard not to think about the rumor going around about how Brexton wanted Firth’s job. But I was being silly. Brexton had nothing to do with what happened last night, and I couldn’t blame what went down between Firth and Dahlia on him. Still though, this could be a good chance to gauge how much news had traveled and what people were thinking. “Did you hear what happened at the house last night?”
“No. I was working on prep for the tree lighting ceremony. With it only being two days away, we’re running out of time.” He straightened, the sparks on his fingers winking out as he focused on me instead of his task. “Did something happen?”
I summarized last night’s events, fighting off a chill as I remembered Dahlia’s still form.
Brexton’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Did you know Dahlia?”
He dropped his gaze, drumming his fingers on his knee a little too quickly. “We weren’t close, but yeah. Sort of. And I can’t picture her hurting anyone.” He hesitated. “Then again, I couldsay the same about Pastor Collins.” His fingers paused, then started up again. “None of it makes any sense.”
“I agree,” I murmured. “But I won’t keep you. You seem busy, and I need to get into town to visit the museum.”
“Why are you going there?” He wrinkled his nose.
“The sprite who lives nearby said the victim’s uncle lives there and I should check it out.”
He frowned. “A sprite named Pennyfern? With leaf-like wings?”
I bit my lip, thinking back on last night’s conversation. Now that he mentioned it, I was fairly certain that Lenora had called the sprite something like that. “Yes, I believe so.”
“I’d be careful when it comes to listening to her,” he said. “She’s disliked Collins ever since he was a bit too blunt with her in church.”
“Really?” Maybe that explained her disgruntled expression last night. But not liking him didn’t mean she thought he was capable of murder.
“Anyway, good luck with everything.” Brexton frowned as he returned to work.
Once I made it to Main Street, Cupid’s Confections tempted me with the promise of a gingerbread cookie, even if it wasn’t as good as my aunt’sichigo daifuku,a delicious treat of mochi, red bean paste, and strawberries that she made every New Year. But going meant risking a run-in with Mrs. Bennet, who’d been chilly toward me ever since I’d announced my engagement to Firth. Though if gossip had spread, she or Mayor Pembroke would be the ones to know.
I headed down Main Street, unzipping my coat as I walked. Although my breath still misted in front of me with each exhale, the walking had warmed me.
Despite everything that had happened, I smiled as I took in the Christmas decorations everywhere. Tiny wreaths hung from thestreetlamps and small lights were woven around them, creating a canopy of lights that made Main Street beautiful to walk at night. While Thanksgiving had only just ended, Christmas was a much bigger deal in Austen Heights among the Marked and Unmarked alike, and many families and businesses barely waited for Thanksgiving to end before decorating.
I pushed open the door for Cupid’s Confections, and the chime sounded like the jingle of a sleigh. “Here Comes Santa Claus” played softly in the background, and tiny Christmas lights draped along the walls flickered in time to the tune. Enchanted snowflakes drifted from the ceiling, then melted into glitter as they landed on the floor and tables.
The scent of fresh gingerbread and vanilla snowball cookies filled the air, and a few mugs of cocoa sat on the counter, their self-stirring peppermint sticks clinking softly against the sides. I was pretty sure that no matter how many years I lived in Austen Heights, I’d never fully get used to the magic everywhere. Maybe it was because I didn’t have any of my own, so I didn’t take it for granted like many of my friends did.
I made my way past a small Christmas tree to the front counter and checked out the day’s display of goodies. They had a delectable selection of Christmas baked goods that made me feel guilty about always ordering the same gingerbread cookies. Miniature star-kissed peppermint houses, everflame chestnut rolls, holly tarts, and a host of other delicious items filled the display cases.
“Oh, Mrs. Collins, what a treat to see you today.” Mrs. Bennet turned to me after she finished ringing up another customer at the register and gave me a sugary-sweet smile. “I figured you and your new husband would be otherwise engaged this morning.”
My cheeks heated at her implication, but I kept my head high. The best way to deal with Lizzy’s mother was to show her that Ididn’t care who said what about me. She was usually harmless, unless you threatened her daughters’ chances for marriage.
“There was a slight change of plans.” I gave her a small smile, refusing to be baited. I’d had years of dealing with her from all the time I’d spent here with Lizzy growing up. And besides keeping up a strong front, the other thing that never failed was a good compliment. “Besides, what sort of wife would I be if I didn’t provide my husband with one of the best baked goods in town this morning?”
“Excellent point.” Her gaze softened slightly. “After all, the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“You definitely can’t go wrong with anything here.” I perused the display table once more, admiring the frostbitten sugar cookies. I’d tried one last year and while they were delicious, I hadn’t liked how each bite cooled your tongue like you’d eaten a fresh mouthful of snow. “Could I get some gingerbread cookies and”—my gaze settled on the small squares of chocolate covered in red sprinkles—“some of your peppermint bark bites?” I hadn’t tried those yet, but they called to me.
“Of course.” She placed them in a bag. “And I suppose you were too busy yesterday to hear the latest gossip.”
