Strawberries and Suffering Read online

  “I’m Aidan,” the man said, recovering and wiping his blackened hand on the front of his trousers before holding it out to shake.

  “Oh,” Holly said, raising a hand up to her mouth.

  The quick wipe had smeared charcoal marks across the light beige fabric. When the man looked down to see the cause of her exclamation, he shrugged and gave a small chuckle.

  “My mom always said I couldn’t stay clean for five minutes.” He held his hand out again, and Holly shook it. The palm was dry and the shake firm—just the way she liked it.

  “What did you want me for?”

  “My car…” Holly trailed to a halt and looked down at the ground, swallowing. For some strange reason, she felt a bit giddy staring up into Aidan’s bright blue eyes.

  “I parked here earlier, but I need to leave,” Holly managed after a pause.

  “And I’m blocking your exit?” Aidan finished for her. When she nodded, he gave a wry smile. “Sounds like the kind of daft thing that I’d do.”

  Aidan rolled up the paper into a thin tube and stuck it into a knapsack that he then swung over his shoulder. He started to walk but stopped when Holly didn’t fall into step beside him. She looked instead at the girl, her eyebrows raised.

  “Isn’t she with you?” Holly mouthed, embarrassed to be talking about the teenager when she was standing only a few yards away.

  Aidan turned and seemed shocked there was another person there.

  “Joan! What are you doing standing out here in the rain?”

  “It’s Elvira,” the teenager mumbled. “My name is Elvira now.”

  “Is it?” Aidan sucked his cheeks in and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “I don’t remember that coming through the registrar’s office. Perhaps I was sick that day.”

  “Mom hasn’t filed it yet.” The teenager bared her teeth in a snarl. “She’s been too sick lately. It’ll happen, though, and soon.”

  “Lovely,” Aidan said, clapping his hands together. “I still don’t know why you’re standing outside when it’s pouring, Elvira. Wouldn’t you prefer to stand in the church?”

  “No.” Elvira glared at him, an expression that morphed into something far more ferocious with her smeared eye makeup. “I want to stand outside. I’m a goth.” She sniffed. “Churches don’t agree with me.”

  Holly felt a tad uneasy at the statement. That she’d experienced her own sense of discomfort inside the chapel entirely left her mind.

  Aidan didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He clapped his hands together again. “Is your mom inside?” When Elvira shook her head. “How about my Auntie? I presume if Mary’s sick then Esmerelda brought you.”

  Holly took a shocked step backward at the name, earning herself a reproachful glance from Elvira. Esmerelda was the name of the woman who’d tried to trick her into giving up her father’s recipes. At the memory of how easily she’d been duped, Holly’s cheeks grew red.

  Elvira nodded. “Granny’s inside. She likes catching up on all the gossip. I’m staying out here until my friends arrive.” For the first time, the girl appeared uncertain. “They shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Okay. Just so long as you know you’re welcome to change your mind,” Aidan said, turning back to the parking lot. “If you want later, I’ll take you home, and you can sulk there, rather than at the reception.”

  The edge of rudeness to his words raised an appreciative smile from Elvira. “I might take you up on that.” Her smile widened as she added, “Granny would hate it!”

  As Holly and Aidan walked away, Elvira took their place under the large oak tree. When Holly looked back from the entrance of the church, she saw the girl was shivering. The unfortunate thing looked like a drowned rat.

  A second later, Elvira’s face lit up, and she raised a hand to wave. Two girls joined her under the tree, each dressed in a similar style. More goths. Holly wondered if they always gathered together in threes. It reminded her of witches. Then again, so did Esmerelda.

  “So,” Aidan said as they walked closer to the cars. “You’ll be Holly Waterston, daughter of Brian Waterston, granddaughter of Edward Waterston, and great-granddaughter of Celia Waterston, right?”

  Holly cocked an eye at him, an unsure smile playing across her lips. “Most people just call me Holly,” she teased. “But, yes, that’s my lineage.”

  Aidan pointed back to the graveyard, on the opposite side to where the girls now stood in a huddle. “Your great-grandmother is buried back there, you know.”

  Holly raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No, I didn’t know that. I assumed she was interred in the cemetery in town.”

  She frowned, trying to remember if she’d ever paid a visit to Celia’s grave. Her memory was so active in her father’s stories and the history of the bakery that it felt like something Holly should have seen. After a moment, she shook her head. If it was, she couldn’t remember it.

  “I’ll take you around and show you after I move my car out of the road.” Aidan smiled. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

  Urgency rose up in Holly’s chest, tightening like a band until she could barely breathe. “Goodness, yes. What’s the time?”

  A silly question since there was a watch on her wrist that Holly was perfectly capable of looking at, but Aidan obliged with another smile. “It’s just past nine-thirty.”

  “Oh, no.” In the emotion of walking into the church, Holly had somehow discarded her panic about the close time-frames. Now, they recurred at double impact, sending her heart racing, pitter-pat.

  Holly ran to her car, not even bothering to hold a hand up to protect her from the rain. The worry over getting everything ready and perfect in time eclipsed any concerns about the weather. Not only had she lost a gulp of time by going the wrong way, but Holly also bet that Crystal had lost more fretting about where she might be.

  If only her cell phone worked this far out of town!

  Aidan caught her urgency like a virus and jumped into action. Within a few minutes, and a three-point turn that clenched Holly’s jaw to witness, he had cleared a path.

  Now, she just needed to maneuver her way out through the oncoming traffic, and she’d be set.

  Half torn between concern for the cakes in the back and fear she’d run into somebody coming her way, Holly’s speed never increased above jogging. When she turned out onto the main road and could drive at the speed limit, she breathed a sigh of relief. Foot down, eyes scouring the countryside for the correct turn-off, Holly tried to make up for lost time.

  When she saw the bold signage at the exit, Holly felt a bit silly for her mistake. Instead of the simple post that had read Inglewood Manor on the turn to the church, an archway crossed the road with a sign half the height of a billboard proclaiming that she’d found the right place.

  Crystal was waiting at the front doors, an umbrella in one hand while she stared at her watch on the opposite wrist. When Holly pulled alongside her, she saw her sister’s expression change from relief into frustration.

  “Where on earth have you been?”

  Holly stepped out of the car, ignoring Crystal for a moment as she checked on the load of cupcakes in the back. “I lost you back in the township,” she admitted. “When the other cars all seemed to be going to the wedding, I thought that following them would lead me here. Instead, it led me to the church.”

  Crystal shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. Still, she folded up the umbrella and set it by the door then gave Holly a hand by taking the first tray out of the back.

  “I’ll lead the way through to the servant’s quarters,” Crystal said. She cast a brief glance over her shoulder, eyes sparkling as she added, “Please try not to lose me this time!”

  Relief at being where she was needed swamped Holly as she picked up a tray and balanced it. Although not heavy, the delicacy of its contents had her take mincing steps along the hallway. Thankfully, just as Holly remembered that her shoes were muddy from the cemetery, she saw the floor was po
lished wooden boards.

  A childhood memory of being shouted at for tracking dirt onto the carpet bubbled up into her mind, then was subsumed by a task list a mile long.

  It took another four trips to empty the car of its goods. Holly didn’t like to think of whether Crystal had help with her van once she arrived.

  After moving her sedan around the back, Holly returned to their designated room. It wasn’t a kitchen, at least, not initially. Bells were mounted on the side of the wall, each one with a white plaque beneath.

  Leaning over, Holly read out the first one, “Ballroom South.”

  Crystal glanced over. “They have them for every room.”

  “Do they still work?” Holly turned back to her sister with raised eyebrows.

  Crystal shrugged. “I don’t know. Given the number of people who’ll soon be arriving and the rooms Wendy has booked out, I’m sure we’ll soon find out.”

  Holly laughed and nodded. No matter what the occasion, if there were a rope to be pulled somewhere in the house, some young man or woman would be bold enough to do the job.

  “Oh, dear,” Holly said, raising her hand to her mouth to cover a fit of giggles. “Can you imagine once the toasts have been had? A few glasses and we’ll be running all over the show!”

  At that, Crystal burst into laughter, too. “You don’t have to answer them, silly.” She slapped at Holly’s shoulder. “You’re not a servant, you goose.”

  “I don’t know.” Holly strutted up the length of the room, eyes downcast, curtseying as she reached the far wall. “I think it would suit me.”

  “If it didn’t suit great-granny Celia then I hardly think it would suit you!”

  Settling down beside her sister to work, Holly asked, “When was Celia, a servant?”

  Crystal shook her head, tongue between teeth as she positioned a chocolate lattice on the top of a cupcake. Once it was in position, she answered, “She wasn’t. That’s the point. Instead, she fought to set up a business in town at a time when ladies just didn’t do that sort of thing.”

  “I wish I knew more about her,” Holly said. “It seems everywhere I go, somebody is telling me part of a tale about her.”

  Crystal nodded. “It seems she was quite a character. It’s a pity that we never knew her.”

  The Waterstons weren’t known for their longevity. Holly’s father had died not long ago, just edging into his seventies. Her life cut even shorter, their mom hadn’t lasted to see the sisters in their teens.

  “Did you know that Dale had some old records on her, down at the police station?”

  Crystal stopped moving, her eyes widening. Holly was puzzled for a moment, then realized that she never mentioned him. At least, not since finding out the policeman had been part of a conspiracy that almost cost her life.

  Holly pushed the thoughts away. Today should be a day of good wishes and kind thoughts. Then she shook her head. What of it? Just because Dale turned out to be a traitor to his community didn’t mean that the story wasn’t right.

  “He said that she got into trouble frequently, though I doubt it was anything too troubling, or we wouldn’t be here.” Holly flicked a glance at her sister, then concentrated again on the delicate work in front of her.

  “We should go down there and request them someday.” Crystal finished up with the chocolate and moved onto slicing strawberries. “It’d be interesting to know what they counted as arrest-worthy back in the day.”

  “Crossing the road at the wrong time?”

  “Wearing a red kerchief when it was blue kerchief day?”

  Holly giggled and added, “Baking without a permit?”

  “Accepting money when women weren’t allowed a bank account.”

  Holly shook her head. “There’re so many things to choose from, I’m sure we’ll be disappointed when we get to the real stuff.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Holly looked over at her sister, but Crystal just gave an enigmatic shrug. “Just a few overheard rumors I’ve picked up over the years. I don’t have any details, but I’m sure people wouldn’t still be talking about her if she hadn’t been a big deal.”

  The two sisters settled back down to their work, each frowning in concentration. The delicate business wasn’t improved with knowing that there was a very firm deadline before all of the decorations needed to get done.

  Just as Holly finished up with the cut-strawberry cupcakes and moved onto the lemon cheesecakes with a satisfied sigh, a young man ran into the room.

  “Come quickly,” he shouted, pointing out toward the entrance. “There’s a terrible problem. The wedding might well be called off!”

  Chapter Three

  Holly and Crystal raced for the entrance hall, skidding on the polished wood. Outside the front doors was a deluge that pounded down like rocks hitting the ceiling. In the servants’ quarters with no direct line to the outside walls or roof, they’d been insulated from the increasing noise.

  Near to the entrance, a puddle of water was spreading over the floor.

  “Get some towels and find a shovel if you can,” the doorman called to the waiters and caterers gathered around him.

  At the curt instructions, Holly ran back to their assigned room and picked up the stack of tea towels from the bench. She opened the cupboards quickly and cried out with delight when she located a plastic dustpan and broom. While Crystal searched for more towels, Holly took the stash back to the doorman.

  “Here,” she called out, thrusting the towels at a young man already kneeling on the floor and mopping up the water. When the doorman raised an eyebrow at the pan, Holly separated the brush from it and walked outside. In an instant, she was drenched from head to toe. The hair she’d taken care to fix up on top of her head soon became limp strands, framing her face on either side.

  She squatted, and pushed the dustpan into the shingle by the marble step, tossing it out to her left-hand side once Holly ascertained there was no one standing there. Once the surface gravel was gone, she dug the plastic handle of the broom into the hardened clumps and worked more free. When the level was a good few inches below the marble step, she stood with a groan and stretched her back.

  Now that the water was no longer running off the side of the piled-up gravel and hardened mud onto the entrance step, the progress of the water inside the building had slowed. Sodden towels were replaced with fresh ones, while dampened men walked outside to squeeze the excess moisture out. With disappointment, Holly looked down at her wet clothes, sticking to her body like a cold and clinging second skin.

  “Thanks for the quick thinking,” the doorman said as Holly stepped inside.

  She nodded and crossed over to Crystal, who handed her a tea towel to dry with. Holly looked at the small rectangle then at the length of her dripping frame.

  “Let’s go back to the cupcake room,” Crystal suggested. “You can wring your clothes out in the sink. Hopefully, they’ll be dry before the wedding party gets here.”

  “What wedding party,” the young man who’d fetched them said disconsolately. “The radio news said a tree’s down on the main highway. No one who wasn’t at the church already is turning up to the reception. What’s that going to be? Fifty people, tops?”

  “Oh, no!” Holly took a step back in shock. “Poor Wendy.” She looked at Crystal whose own eyes were wide at the news. “I can’t believe that this is happening when she spent so much time and money planning the big day.”

  “That’s what you get for this flagrant display of wealth,” the doorman said, sniffing.

  The heat of Holly’s sudden anger was almost enough to dry her off without a towel. “You take that back,” she said. “Wendy doesn’t have a lot of money. She poured everything she had into making this the best day for her daughter that they could afford, and she worked hard to do it.”

  “They might not have a lot…” The doorman raised his eyebrows as he let his sentence trail off into an implied meaning.

  “No one else but Wendy is paying a
nything for this reception,” Crystal said, leaping in when indignation left Holly momentarily tongue-tied. “Derek’s father contributed nothing.” In a lower voice, perhaps meant only for herself, she muttered, “Much like he did to the rest of Derek’s life.”

  “I didn’t mean any offense.” The doorman had taken a step back, his face furrowing into confusion at their apparent anger. “Perhaps I made an assumption I shouldn’t have.”

  “Perhaps you did,” Holly agreed. As a rivulet of water trickled down her back, triggering a shiver, she held the tea towel to the back of her neck.

  “My name’s Arnold,” the doorman said, extending his hand to shake. “If you follow me, I’ll show you into an en suite upstairs where you can swap those wet clothes out for a robe and have a shower to warm yourself up.”

  “I’m Holly, and this is my sister Crystal.” Holly shook his hand after wiping hers dry on the towel.

  “And no prizes for guessing that you’re here on the bride’s side.”

  “We’re mainly on the cupcakes’ side,” Crystal said with a giggle. Then she groaned. “Oh, dear. What are we going to do with all those cakes? The mission doesn’t have the freezer capacity to take on more than a few dozen, and even the pigs on the Henderson farm will call it quits before they get through all of those.”

  “Why don’t we just leave that for the moment?” Holly suggested, following Arnold through into a bedroom suite that took her breath away. She spun in place for a second, looking at the grandiose furniture and fittings decorating the room. Then Holly scurried for the bathroom as she realized she was dripping all over the carpet.

  “I’ll leave you here then. Take as long as you need.” From the bathroom, Arnold’s voice was faint, but Holly still heard every word. She wondered if that was what a lifetime of issuing orders got you.

  “I doubt the couple designated to take this suite will be making it here through the storm.”

  Holly’s heart sank as she thought about all of Wendy’s efforts being wasted. Yes, the day was far more ostentatious than it needed to be, but Holly had learned in the few weeks since meeting Wendy that the woman had a well-placed chip on her shoulder.