In Cold Chamomile Page 3

  Or overheating and starting a fire. The idea that there were a lot of live animals there made her heart speed up.

  But when she entered the stables at a trot, welcome warmth enveloped her, and the chatter of excited people, especially children, filled her ears. Several volunteers sat crouched beside dogs they were introducing to the public. A big black poodle didn’t seem to like the attention and tried to hide behind the volunteer’s back, but when a little boy approached and played peekaboo, looking at the poodle and then stepping back out of sight, the dog became curious and showed himself. Slowly his tail began to wag, and the little boy smiled broadly.

  Callie’s heart widened at the idea that here relationships might begin that would last for the dog’s lifetime. Animals that were currently living behind bars would find a new home today. If only for that, their event would be a success.

  “Callie.” Quinn rested his hand on her shoulder. His expression was relaxed, but at the same time she noticed a certain tension in him, as if he was eager for something to happen. His smile wasn’t quite at ease, and his eyes brushed past her and roamed the room.

  “How are things going?” she asked. “Is the heater fixed for real?”

  “It’s doing great. I think it’ll last through the event.”

  “Good. That was what I wanted to know, really.” Callie glanced around her. “Oh, I see you’ve got help.”

  Jimmy and Tate, Peggy’s boys, were sitting on the other side of the stables, each with a retriever puppy in his arms. Their mother was watching them from her place on a blanket, with three more puppies clambering across her outstretched body.

  Quinn nodded in their direction. “The dog was found roaming, turned out of her home, maybe after the owners discovered she was expecting. She gave birth to five healthy puppies a few weeks ago. We’re now hoping to find good homes for them all.”

  “Are you trying to persuade Peggy to take one of them?” Callie frowned. “She’s away a lot for her work at Book Tea, and the boys are in school, so who would be able to take care of a small dog?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Her situation might not always stay like that.”

  Callie wanted to ask what on earth he meant by that, but growling and barking drew her attention in a flash. Two dogs had jumped at each other, teeth bared, and the volunteers struggled to pull them away. A frightened little girl burst into tears, hiding against her mother, and some parents looked less than happy, moving away and whispering as if deciding to leave.

  Quinn shook his head. “I told Jerry not to bring that black Lab. He isn’t ready to be re-homed. Too many new things make him nervous, and then he snaps. But they just don’t listen to me. ‘This is a chance of a lifetime,’ they said. Yes, well, but if his behavior turns the potential new owners off all the dogs present—”

  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Callie reassured him. But inside she wondered. People were right to think twice about taking a dog into their homes; after all, these weren’t toys, but live animals that needed a lot of caring for. And if a dog also seemed to have a problem, it became extra hard.

  She patted Quinn’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll find a few dogs good homes today. Talk to people, find out what they’re looking for. Ask them to stop by the shelter and see more of the dog there. No impulse decisions, but growing relations.”

  Quinn nodded. “I know. I’m trying.” He rubbed his hands together, his posture tense, as if he was gearing up for something.

  Callie wasn’t sure what it was that was eating at him, but she didn’t want to ask right now. Having greeted the volunteers and ensured the black Lab was calm again and wagging his tail, she left the stables to go back to the house.

  The cold air nipped at her, and she broke into a trot. Someone came from the other direction, and they reached the door at the same time. It was Sean Strong, the baritone, and he held the door open for her with a smile. “After you, young lady. You should have put on a coat.”

  “Yes, probably. Thank you,” Callie said as she stepped inside.

  Strong, who wasn’t wearing a coat himself, followed her and stood a moment, as if indecisive. Then he said, “Tell me, can one get decent coffee here?”

  “More than decent,” Callie assured him. “The catering is done by Book Tea, a very good tearoom from town. We have delicious coffee, tea, and treats.” She added quickly, “If you want some.” Perhaps with his performance coming, he didn’t want to eat? She had no idea if it affected the voice.

  “That sounds very inviting.” He smiled at her. “Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

  For a moment Callie recalled her great-aunt’s shock when she had recognized Strong and claimed that he had been to Heart’s Harbor before and it hadn’t ended well. But that had been, to recall Iphy’s words, “a lifetime ago,” so why would it matter today?

  Besides, she could hardly pretend not to know where the coffee was served, when she was herself part of the Book Tea team. She forced a smile. “Not at all. Through this door.”

  Callie led Sean Strong into the drawing room, where the scent of mocha coffee and walnut cake filled the air. People were standing in groups as all of the seats were already taken. Callie and Sean had to push their way through to get to the long table where Iphy was serving. She was just lifting a new chocolate cake from a container and putting it on a plate, to start cutting it up. White frosting on top outlined a great house, which might be interpreted as Haywood Hall but could also represent Mr. Rochester’s abode from Jane Eyre or iconic Pemberley.

  Callie moved aside to let Strong reach the table and place an order. She looked at his face. To her surprise, he stared at her great-aunt with a look of worry in his eyes. A slight frown, an uncertainty that didn’t seem to fit his confident attitude. Did he also recall his previous visit to this small town and the unfortunate events that had taken place?

  What could they have been?

  Iphy looked up. “May I …” The words help you seemed to die on her tongue as she stared at Strong. He held her gaze with that quiet, slightly concerned look. Then he smiled and said, “Hello, Iphy.”

  Callie’s jaw sagged when he said her great-aunt’s first name. Iphy had only let on that Strong had performed in town, but not that he had known her personally. Or had she been on some organizing committee at the time? Still, if it was that long ago, why would Strong, who apparently traveled the world, recall her at all?

  “Hello, Sean.” Iphy’s voice was soft and slightly unstable. She straightened up in an attempt, it seemed, to regain control of the situation. “I heard you were replacing Mr. Teak this afternoon. I hope he isn’t too ill?”

  “No, he’ll be fine. Really. Just a little throat trouble after a head cold. You know how that is.” Strong seemed at a loss for further things to say. He just stared at Iphy, who stared back.

  Callie wished she had told Strong to go back to the ballroom, where she would bring him his coffee order. It would have been better to avoid this confrontation. Even if she had no idea what it was about, it was obviously painful to both parties.

  “This young lady here tells me you have amazing coffee,” Strong said at last in a forced cheerful tone that sounded insincere.

  “That young lady,” Iphy replied, taking up the light tone, “is my great-niece, Callie Aspen. She has come to live in Heart’s Harbor to help me with the Book Tea.”

  He frowned again. “Help you? Are you not well?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not getting any younger. Neither of us is, I suppose.”

  Strong seemed to want to protest, but then he nodded. “I suppose.” He sighed, and Callie noticed that Iphy cast a worried look over his features, then down his figure, as if to see if something might be wrong with him.

  Strong said, “I’d like a coffee, please.”

  Iphy checked her watch. “Isn’t it too close before the performance?”

  “Will you come and listen?”

  “I can’t leave here.”

  “Callie can
take your place, I’m sure.” Strong flashed a smile at Callie. “Your great-aunt loves classical music. Especially by German composers.”

  “I don’t have the time.” Iphy sounded more insistent now, almost annoyed.

  Callie looked from one to the other. It was clear something had passed between them when they had met before, but what could it be?

  Iphy poured coffee for Strong and handed the cup to him. As their hands touched briefly, Callie saw a flash of sadness in her great-aunt’s eyes. As if she was sorry for something. For Strong? Had he done something wrong in the past, ruining things for himself in Heart’s Harbor? But why then had he returned? He didn’t have to take Teak’s place, she supposed. A throat infection was a valid reason to cancel, and they would simply have had to tell the audience the orchestra would perform without a baritone.

  She accompanied him back to the door. “Did Mr. Teak ask you specifically to take his place? I mean, you were in Vienna, after all—it wasn’t nothing to fly out here.”

  Strong glanced at her, a quick, almost suspicious look. “It was the best solution. All for a good cause, right?” He toasted her with the cup. “This smells delicious. Thank you.” And he walked off.

  Callie noticed he hadn’t asked her to come and listen to his performance. Just Iphy. How odd. Not that she felt passed over or anything, but it had seemed as if he attached special importance to Iphy being there.

  Callie shook her head. She shouldn’t be too curious about things that were none of her business. Just as she was standing there, she saw the two women who had spoken about “just desserts” come back down the stairs. The younger one was carrying a bag that seemed much emptier now. So they had sold off something to the antiques appraiser. They didn’t look very happy, though, so maybe he hadn’t offered a very good price?

  Callie heard her name and saw Dorothea Finster waving at her from the stairs. The elderly owner of Haywood Hall looked excited, with spots of color on her cheeks. Callie rushed up to meet her. “Is something the matter?”

  “I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I appreciate all of this. You put together such a wonderful program. The house is alive with people, music, flowers.” She gestured around her. “Valentine’s Day is a day of love, and I feel that love everywhere!”

  Just as she said it, Mrs. Forrester burst from the library’s door, holding scissors clutched in her hand like a weapon. Her face was pale with anger, and her eyes flashed as if she could barely control herself. She was so completely not a picture of love that, after Dorothea’s adoring words, Callie almost had to laugh.

  But something in Mrs. Forrester’s expression prevented her from it. The woman was truly mad into the depths of her veins and ready to stab someone with those scissors, it seemed.

  Dorothea glanced after her as she passed them and vanished down the corridor. “She’s very good at what she does,” she said weakly, almost as if to offer an excuse for the presence of the unpleasant woman on the premises.

  “I guess,” Callie said, to be accommodating, “that she has to be firm in order to run the library and all the other things she’s involved in. She does get a lot done.”

  They looked at each other and then, in spite of herself, Callie had to laugh anyway.

  Dorothea joined her, a soft chuckle behind a politely raised hand. “I would never have admitted it otherwise,” she whispered, “but now I will tell you I am positively afraid of that woman. She is like a battle ram. When she comes for you, you’d better step aside or you’ll get run to the ground. I wouldn’t like to get into an argument with her.”

  “You’re the hostess, so she won’t pick a fight with you,” Callie assured her. “Apparently she’s very much a perfectionist, and when something doesn’t turn out the way she had pictured it, she’s none too pleased.” She thought a moment. “Maybe she feels like everybody takes her efforts for granted.”

  Dorothea nodded, suddenly perfectly serious. “It can be a risk when you rely on the same people over and over to make every community event into a success. They are eager and pull their weight, but after a while they ask themselves what for. I must remember to give her an extra compliment when we’re done later today. Can you help remind me?”

  “Of course.” Callie smiled at her. “We did intend to give all the volunteers a check for a free cup of coffee at Book Tea, so Mrs. Forrester will also be getting that.”

  “A lovely idea.” Dorothea patted her arm. “I’m so glad to have you here. Oh …” She pointed at the grandfather clock. “It’s almost time for the performance. Are you coming too?”

  Callie hesitated. She wanted to hear the enigmatic Sean Strong sing, but she also felt obliged to keep an eye on how things were going. “You go and I’ll pop in later,” she said to Dorothea, who nodded and slowly made her way down the stairs. She didn’t look like she was ninety-three, but Callie imagined she could feel it in her bones.

  With a warm smile, she followed the fragile figure as Dorothea made her way down and then turned to the ballroom. Music already poured out the door, inviting people to flock there. Groups of chatting women and a few men came from the drawing room, some still carrying their coffee cups, and headed over. Callie caught a glimpse of Iphy at the door into the drawing room. She seemed to stand there very still, listening to the music, even closing her eyes a moment as if to soak it up. She looked younger and very expectant. But then she turned away and went back into the drawing room, apparently determined to stay at her post.

  Chapter Three

  Callie had managed to catch the last bit of the performance, and she had to admit that Sean Strong had a wonderful voice. He carried them away from the ballroom, across the sea to the mountains and deserts he sang about, conjuring up blossoming flowers or snow and ice at a rise or fall of his voice. People swayed, tapped, and hummed along, and the whole room seemed to be full of the energy the lone singer projected as he stood there and filled the space with his voice. Warm applause reached out to him, and people called for an encore.

  Callie saw that Quinn had come to stand with Peggy, who, like herself, had caught the closing part of the performance, and he now put his hand on her arm and asked her something. She seemed a bit surprised and hesitant, but followed him through the doors that led outside. Callie wondered if Quinn would tell her about the retriever puppies and ask her if the boys could have one. Peggy might not be eager for the extra responsibility, and Callie could only hope that a disagreement about it wouldn’t ruin this otherwise nice day.

  Sean Strong hushed the crowd with a hand gesture and launched into one more song. To Callie’s surprise it wasn’t a classical song, but a sweet, simple folk song, maybe Irish, about a girl he had once loved and how they had walked the country roads together, hand in hand, the sun on their faces and love in their hearts. Everybody listened, spellbound, as he asked her why she had gone away and left him with nothing but the memories of those sun-soaked days. A woman rubbed her eyes, and even Callie felt a bit of tightness in her throat as Strong seemed to live the words he sang, putting his all into the lines, into the vibrations of his rich voice.

  It was very silent when he finished. Then people rose to their feet and applauded him even more fervently than before.

  Callie turned and saw Iphy standing at the door of the room. She turned away quickly, but Callie had glimpsed the emotion on her face—a tenderness and sadness she had never seen there before. Iphy stood motionless, seemingly almost forgetting she was in a room full of people, until someone pushed past her, and she excused herself. Callie didn’t want to go to Iphy and intrude on what seemed to be a personal moment. After all, she knew so little about her great-aunt’s life—whether she had ever loved, hoped to marry and have a family, only to see that hope swept away from her when love had been lost. Lost in death? Lost to life? Callie didn’t know. She went outside, allegedly to check on her car, which she knew was locked up tight, but just to get away for a moment and collect her thoughts. To her surprise, she caught Peggy running to her
own car and fidgeting to get the door open. When Callie drew closer, she saw Peggy’s shoulders were shaking. She realized with a shock that her friend was crying.

  “Peggy!” She went over quickly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just leave me alone. Let me go. How can he … how can he ask me that?” Peggy had the door open, dove into the car, and started the engine even before she had buckled up.

  Callie tapped on the window, wanting to tell her she was in no state to drive. But Peggy took off anyway, breezing down the driveway to the exit.

  Callie blinked in confusion. Was it about the puppy? Asking someone to get a dog they might not want to take on right now didn’t warrant such an emotional response, did it? What was the matter here?

  She brushed her forehead, turning away, when she saw Quinn coming. His hair stood up as if he had raked it back with this hands, and his eyes looked frantic. He called, “Did you see Peggy?”

  “She drove off.” Callie took a deep breath. “I think she was crying.”

  Quinn halted. His shoulders sagged, and he looked at the ground. He exhaled long and hard. “I shouldn’t have …” He seemed to mutter more under his breath.

  Callie went over to him. “Did you argue? I’ve never seen her like that.”

  Quinn looked up at her. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it.” He turned away, breaking into a trot.

  Callie blinked. Well, I never. It’s like people aren’t themselves today.

  “Callie!”

  She turned at the urgent voice. It was Mrs. Moffett, Mrs. Forrester’s right hand at the library. They were so often seen together that some locals mockingly called Mrs. Moffett “The Shadow.” In contrast with her formidable boss, she was a soft-spoken personality who often excused herself when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She looked frantic as she ran for Callie. Her heart-shaped badge had almost come loose and dangled from her lapel. “It is—oh, it’s terrible. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s terrible?” Callie asked, catching the woman by the shoulders to steady her. She seemed to be swaying as she tried to catch her breath. Mrs. Moffett blinked her wide green eyes at her. “I should never have gone in there alone. But I saw him go in there. I thought he might still be there. I only wanted to ask if he might do a few more evaluations. Just because there were so many people, and I hate disappointing—” She gasped for breath.