Chapter 6
The next day, I took more time getting ready than I’d like to admit.
It took an astonishing amount of effort to get my loose curls to look effortless and to use makeup to highlight all of my features without looking like I was trying too hard.
I was pleased with the result, though. I’d chosen my softest red knitted sweater with wide-leg jeans and my most comfortable boots.
I didn’t want any itchy tags or annoying seams to distract me from Ernesto.
Or the case. Solving the murder was definitely the most important thing.
When I rounded the corner to Cupid’s Confections, Ernesto came into view, leaning casually against the wall, looking more amazing in jeans and a hoodie than anyone had the right to.
He pushed off the wall and smiled at me. “Hey, Anne,” he said, his voice a little huskier than normal. My heart may have actually skipped a beat. This man was exquisite.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my cool even as a slow blush warmed my cheeks.
The aroma of cinnamon, yeast, and melted sugar wafting from Cupid’s Confections smelled almost as heavenly as Ernesto looked.
He opened the door and the chime jingled like sleigh bells.
The inside of the bakery had been decorated for the season since I’d been in last. Little Christmas lights hanging from the walls flickered in time to soft Christmas music, and an enchanted train made of baked goods traveled around the room on a track high above.
A Bennet sister with long brown hair stood at the front counter, Lydia, if I wasn’t mistaken. “Good morning,” she said to me, but her eyes lit up when they fell upon Neto. “Hi Ernesto.”
He smiled back, but it was the pleasant, more subdued smile from the posters and the videos, and a warm satisfaction curled up in my stomach. A timer beeped from the back room and Lydia hurried out of sight.
Mrs. Bennet came forward, wiping powdered sugar on an apron that looked like Mrs. Claus’s dress.
“Good morning, Anne.” She eyed Neto up and down, no doubt measuring him up as a potential partner for one of her daughters.
“It’s nice to see you again, Ernesto; I was so pleased to hear that your band moved to town. ”
Mrs. Bennet was one of those people who could hear a name once and remember it forever—as long as it was attached to a piece of gossip.
“What can I get for the two of you? I’ve got a lemon balm tea with honey that’s enchanted to soothe and protect your voice.
Or an eggnog that’s spelled to bring back the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning as a child. ”
As lovely as that sounded, I wanted to savor the feeling of being here with Ernesto without any magical interference. “I’ll take your candy cane hot cocoa and one of those,” I said, gesturing to a breakfast sandwich.
“And for you?” she asked, turning to Ernesto.
“Tell me about that model train.”
“Oh, that’s a good choice,” Mrs. Bennet said. “My daughter Kitty came up with the idea.”
Mrs. Bennet flipped a switch and the train moved to a track that took it in a slow, winding descent down to the front counter. “The engine has a gingerbread glaze, the car in the middle is an eggnog cream, and the caboose is an old-fashioned chocolate donut with crushed candy cane sprinkles.”
“Yes, I’ll take that,” Ernesto said, his grin childlike and infectious.
I needed to bring the conversation around so I could see what Mrs. Bennet knew. “Maybe I ought to get a cookie for Cecelia,” I said, pretending to consider it, though she was the last person I would buy a treat for. “She’s been quite off since Paolo’s murder.”
Mrs. Bennet perked up, just like I’d hoped she would. “Were you there when it happened, Anne?”
“Yes, I was the one to find the body.”
Mrs. Bennet’s slight nod told me that she already knew this information. “And how are you holding up, dear?”
“Everyone is sad, of course, but Cecelia seems to be the most troubled, and I’m not sure why,” I said, hoping Mrs. Bennet would jump in to tell us everything she knew. She obliged.
“Yes, I imagine that would be difficult for her, considering the fact that they were dating.”
I blinked. “Paolo and Cecelia were together?”
She smiled smugly. “Yes. Didn’t you know? They did keep their relationship hidden from the public, but they knew each other from high school and recently reconnected and started dating.”
How did Mrs. Bennet always know everyone’s secrets? It was as though people paid for her enchanted baked goods with gossip.
Lydia came back to the front counter with a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls that were tying themselves in knots and then straightening out again.
“They broke up, Mom,” Lydia said, jumping into the conversation.
Mrs. Bennet straightened, apparently unaware of that information. “Really? When did that happen?”
“Last week. Cecelia caught him cheating.”
Neto and I exchanged a meaningful look.
“How about Walter Bramwell?” I asked, abandoning my manners and turning to blatant gossip. “Do you know anything about him that might be suspicious?”
“Walter? No. He’s rich, comes from a respectable family, and is currently unattached. He’s the sort of young man my daughters would be lucky to be better acquainted with.” Her eyes gazed upward, to the top floor where the family lived.
Sleigh bells jingled, announcing Mayor Pembroke as she hurried through the door in a sweater that looked like it was made of actual pine needles and strung with multi-colored Christmas lights.
A headband wreathed her head like a crown and featured a large star.
Only Mayor Pembroke could dress like a Christmas tree and get away with it.
I shuddered at the idea of how the pine needles would feel on my skin, though I knew they were only designed to look real and were likely made of a softer material.
“Thanks, Mrs. Bennet,” I said, turning away.
“You’re very welcome. Oh, and Ernesto, the next time you see George Wickham, please give him our regards.”
My thoughts drifted to the conversation I’d had with Elizabeth in the garden the night before. I’d been trying to help my cousin out, but I couldn’t help but feel that Elizabeth was even more unhappy with him after my efforts.
Ernesto grabbed the tray with our food and we walked through a mini snowstorm of enchanted snowflakes that fell from the ceiling and turned to glitter before they hit the floor. I grimaced. They looked spectacular but left a mess that would be a nightmare to clean up.
“Sounds like we found a motive,” Neto said, tearing off the roof of the steam engine donut and popping it in his mouth.
Mayor Pembroke hurried over to us, her pinecone earrings swinging erratically. “Anne. I’m in a bit of a pickle and I’m hoping you and your friend can help me out.”
Neto extended his hand. “I’m Ernesto. We’d be happy to help.”
Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes, you’re the Garcias’ son. We’re glad to have you and the Grey Doors in town.”
“Thank you. What do you need Anne and I to do?”
“A busload of children are about to be dropped off here to see Santa Claus, but our Santa and his elf canceled at the last minute.”
Neto’s eyes widened. He was no doubt regretting agreeing to help without finding out what it would entail.
“I’m not sure if we can do that,” I said hesitantly.
“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “The elf costume will fit you just fine, Anne. And we’ll just have to stuff you to get the Santa one to fit you, Ernesto.”
I bit back my laughter at the idea of Neto in a Santa suit and let Mayor Pembroke hurry us out to her car.
She handed each of us a garment bag and we went back into the bakery to change.
I couldn’t tell if I felt silly or fabulous as I exited the ladies’ room in a green velvet dress with candy cane tights and gold slippers with toes that curled up.
Probably a bit of both. I adjusted my long stocking cap with a bell at the tip.
I could already tell that bell was going to make me crazy, ringing in my face every time I moved.
Neto stepped out a moment later wearing a red and white Santa suit, black belt and boots, and white wig under a red hat. His dark eyes gleamed when he saw me, and I swallowed hard. Apparently I was attracted to Santa Claus now.
“Will you help me with the beard?” he asked.
I barely breathed as I slipped the fake beard around his face and secured it with double-sided tape, my fingers brushing against the slight scruff on his cheeks.
He leaned into my touch, and the beard couldn’t cover the way he swallowed when my knuckle brushed against his lower lip as I was adjusting the mustache.
Luckily, Mayor Pembroke came back to check on us before I could do something crazy like kiss Santa Claus. “The bus just pulled up,” she said.
Mrs. Bennet had packed our food into to-go boxes for us and handed me a bag.
“Are you dating Ernesto Garcia?” Her words were quiet, but her eyes shone with excitement at a potential scandal.
Anyone who knew anything about my mamá knew that she would never approve of me dating someone who wasn’t fae.
“No,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t hear in my voice how much I wished I were. “We’re just performing together in the pops concert. I hope to see your family there.”
She nodded, believing me a little too easily.
The idea of Ernesto Garcia wanting to date me was ridiculous.
I was under no illusion that his interest in me would last beyond the Christmas concert.
I wasn’t naive, but just because this could never last didn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy every moment of this flirtation.
Mayor Pembroke led us to a curtained-off seating area in the town square, and we spent the next hour greeting children.
My job was to bring a child to Neto, where he’d pose for a picture with them and listen to their Christmas wishes.
Then I’d give the child a candy cane and usher them away before retrieving the next kid in line.