Chapter 8 A Secret from the Past
By the next afternoon, Mia Rossi had stopped looking at the front door every time the bell rang.
Mostly.
She still checked the windows.
She still glanced outside whenever a car slowed near the bakery.
And she had developed the unfortunate habit of checking the doorstep before unlocking the door each morning.
But The Honeycomb Bakery was open again.
That mattered.
Mia refused to let one threatening note chase her out of the place she had spent years building.
She was kneading dough when Beatrice walked in.
The bell chimed.
Mia looked up.
"Bea."
Beatrice smiled warmly.
"How are you, darling?"
"Better."
Beatrice approached the counter.
"I heard about the awful thing someone left outside."
Mia's hands stopped moving.
"You heard?"
"Everyone has."
Beatrice shook her head.
"What kind of person does something like that?"
Mia studied her.
Beatrice looked exactly as she always did.
Silver hair tucked beneath a soft blue scarf.
Small pearl earrings.
A floral cardigan.
Kind eyes.
She was one of those women who seemed to belong to Crystal Cove itself, as though she had grown out of the town's soil.
"I don't know," Mia said.
"Are you frightened?"
"A little."
"You should be."
Beatrice lowered her voice.
"People who threaten others are dangerous."
Mia swallowed.
"I know."
Beatrice reached across the counter and squeezed her hand.
"You need to be careful."
Mia nodded.
"Thank you."
Beatrice glanced toward the display case.
"You've been busy."
"Trying to keep things normal."
"That's the best thing you can do."
Mia almost smiled.
That sounded remarkably similar to what Sheriff Briggs had told her.
Beatrice looked around the bakery.
Then she noticed the recipe book sitting beside the register.
"Is that your grandmother's?"
Mia followed her gaze.
"Yes."
Beatrice smiled.
"I remember when you first started baking."
Mia smiled too.
"You were one of the first people who encouraged me."
"I knew you had talent."
"You also told me my ingredients were terrible."
Beatrice laughed.
"I did not say terrible."
"You said my vanilla tasted like furniture polish."
"It did."
Mia laughed.
"That's why I switched suppliers."
"And you've never looked back."
"No."
Beatrice nodded approvingly.
"Local ingredients. Quality ingredients. That's always been my philosophy."
Mia remembered.
Beatrice had taught her that.
Years ago, when Mia had been experimenting with recipes in the tiny kitchen above the bakery, Beatrice had shown her how much difference fresh honey, local herbs, and properly grown fruit could make.
She had introduced Mia to Crystal Cove's farmers.
She had taught her to visit the community garden.
She had even given Mia some lavender plants.
"You made me take ingredients seriously," Mia said.
"I only pointed you in the right direction."
"You did more than that."
Beatrice smiled.
"I was happy to help."
Mia watched her.
Something about the conversation made her think of Harrison.
Local ingredients.
The vineyard.
The threatening letter.
The review.
And suddenly, a question occurred to her.
"Bea?"
"Yes?"
"Did you know Harrison Finch well?"
The smile disappeared.
Only for a moment.
Then it returned.
"I knew him."
"How well?"
Beatrice looked toward the window.
"Too well."
Mia frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Beatrice sighed.
"Harrison and I had history."
"What kind of history?"
"Old history."
She picked up her handbag.
"Nothing worth troubling yourself over."
Mia's curiosity sharpened.
"But he was murdered."
Beatrice looked at her.
"Exactly."
She paused.
"Which is why some things are better left in the past."
Then she smiled.
"I'll see you soon, Mia."
She walked out.
The bell chimed behind her.
Mia stared at the door.
"Old history."
Gingersnap sat beneath the window.
His ears were pointed toward the street.
Mia looked at him.
"What do you think?"
Gingersnap stood.
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
He looked back at her.
Mia frowned.
"Where are you going?"
Gingersnap meowed.
"Outside?"
Another meow.
Mia sighed.
"You know you're not supposed to wander."
Gingersnap walked toward the back door.
He stopped again.
Looked at her.
Then meowed.
Mia stared.
"What?"
The cat disappeared through the partially open door.
"Gingersnap!"
Mia hurried after him.
The community garden sat three blocks from The Honeycomb Bakery.
It was a peaceful little patch of green tucked behind the library, surrounded by a low wooden fence.
Crystal Cove residents grew herbs, vegetables, flowers, and fruit there.
Beatrice had her own small section near the back.
Mia had visited many times.
She had never seen Gingersnap this determined to get there.
He moved quickly along the path, his tail held upright.
"Gingersnap, slow down."
The cat ignored her.
He slipped through the garden gate.
Mia followed.
"You're impossible."
Gingersnap headed straight toward the herb beds.
Lavender.
Thyme.
Rosemary.
Sage.
He weaved between them.
Mia watched him.
"What are you doing?"
Gingersnap stopped beside a wooden bench.
Then he sniffed the ground.
He moved toward the shed.
Mia followed.
The cat slipped behind it.
"Gingersnap?"
She rounded the corner.
The cat was sitting beside a wooden crate.
He stared at it.
Then at Mia.
Then back at the crate.
Mia frowned.
"What?"
Gingersnap reached out with one paw.
He tapped the crate.
Mia crouched.
She moved it aside.
Beneath it was a small patch of disturbed earth.
Her heart skipped.
"Why would someone hide something here?"
Gingersnap pawed at the dirt.
Mia brushed it away with her fingers.
Something hard touched her hand.
She stopped.
Carefully, she pulled it free.
A small wooden box.
It was old.
The hinges were rusty.
A faded emblem had been burned into the lid.
Mia didn't recognize it.
"Gingersnap."
The cat sniffed the box.
Mia looked around.
The garden was empty.
She opened the lid.
Inside was a folded piece of paper wrapped in waxed cloth.
Mia carefully unfolded it.
The handwriting was old.
The ink had faded.
At the top were the words:
Crystal Cove Golden Jam
Mia's eyes widened.
She knew that name.
Everyone did.
Crystal Cove Golden Jam had been a local legend long before Mia opened her bakery.
It was said to have been created decades earlier by Beatrice's father.
The original recipe had supposedly been lost.
Or stolen.
Or destroyed.
Depending on who told the story.
Mia read further.
The recipe was remarkably simple.
Local golden berries.
Wildflower honey.
Lemon.
A small amount of sea salt.
And one final ingredient written in faded ink.
A secret.
Mia stared.
"This is the original recipe."
Gingersnap meowed.
Mia looked toward Beatrice's garden.
Why would this be here?
And why had Beatrice hidden it?
Then Mia remembered what Beatrice had said.
Harrison and I had history.
Mia folded the recipe carefully.
She suddenly wanted answers.
She found Beatrice sitting beneath the old oak tree near the garden entrance.
Beatrice looked up.
Her expression changed when she saw the box in Mia's hands.
For the first time, Mia saw something other than kindness in her eyes.
Surprise.
Then fear.
It disappeared almost instantly.
"Where did you get that?"
Mia stopped.
"Gingersnap found it."
Beatrice looked at the cat.
The cat sat beside Mia.
"I didn't know it was here."
Beatrice slowly stood.
"That box belonged to my father."
Mia held it out.
"What is this?"
Beatrice didn't take it.
"The original jam recipe."
"I thought it was lost."
"So did everyone else."
Mia looked at the paper.
"Why did you hide it?"
Beatrice's expression hardened.
"Because some things aren't meant to be shared."
Mia swallowed.
"Was Harrison involved?"
Silence.
Then Beatrice sighed.
"Yes."
Mia's pulse quickened.
"What happened?"
Beatrice looked toward the garden.
"My father created the recipe."
"And?"
"Harrison and I became business partners many years ago."
Mia stared.
"You and Harrison?"
Beatrice nodded.
"We planned to turn the jam into a regional brand."
"What happened?"
"Harrison wanted ownership."
"Of the recipe?"
"Of everything."
Beatrice's voice grew quieter.
"He wanted the name. The recipe. The business."
"And you refused."
"I did."
Mia looked at the old recipe.
"What happened then?"
"He betrayed me."
"How?"
"He tried to claim that the recipe belonged to our company."
Mia frowned.
"But it was your father's."
"Exactly."
Beatrice's eyes filled with old anger.
"I fought him."
"Did you win?"
A bitter smile touched her lips.
"Eventually."
"What happened to the partnership?"
"It ended."
"And the jam?"
"Never became what it could have been."
Mia stared at her.
Suddenly, Harrison's death felt different.
This wasn't a simple business disagreement.
This was personal.
Very personal.
"Did you hate him?"
Beatrice looked directly at Mia.
"I hated what he did."
She paused.
"As for the man himself..."
She looked away.
"I stopped giving him that much power over me a long time ago."
Mia wasn't sure she believed her.
Beatrice stepped closer.
"Listen to me."
Her voice was gentle again.
"You shouldn't involve yourself in this."
Mia stiffened.
"Why?"
"Because Harrison hurt many people."
Mia thought of Greg.
Julian.
Her own bakery.
"How many?"
Beatrice's expression was unreadable.
"More than you know."
She turned away.
"Go home, Mia."
"Bea—"
"Please."
Mia stood there.
Beatrice walked toward her garden.
She stopped beside the lavender.
"You were always a good girl."
Mia frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Beatrice looked back.
"It means you should stay away from people like Harrison Finch."
Then she walked away.
Mia watched her disappear among the herb beds.
Gingersnap brushed against her leg.
Mia looked down.
The cat stared in the direction Beatrice had gone.
"You knew."
Gingersnap said nothing.
Mia looked at the recipe again.
The old paper.
The secret.
The partnership.
The betrayal.
The anger.
And Harrison's murder.
She suddenly understood something.
Everyone had been looking at Harrison Finch as though his death were a single event.
It wasn't.
It was the final explosion of years of resentment.
Julian had a business dispute with him.
Greg had been threatened with losing his job.
Beatrice had lost a family legacy.
And there were probably others.
Mia closed the wooden box.
She had thought she was searching for one murderer.
Now she wasn't even sure how many people had wanted Harrison Finch gone.
She slipped the recipe back into its cloth wrapping.
Gingersnap suddenly rubbed against her ankle.
Mia looked down.
"You've done it again."
The cat purred.
She smiled.
"Come on."
They started back toward the bakery.
But Mia couldn't stop thinking about Beatrice.
The woman who had taught her everything about quality ingredients.
The woman who had encouraged her baking.
The woman who had just revealed that she once shared a business with Harrison Finch.
A business that had ended in betrayal.
Mia looked over her shoulder.
Beatrice was still standing in the garden.
Watching them.
Mia turned away.
For years, she'd thought of Beatrice as one of the safest people in Crystal Cove.
Now she knew something different.
Beatrice had a secret.
A painful history with Harrison.
And a reason to resent him.
Mia held Gingersnap's leash a little tighter.
She didn't know whether Beatrice was dangerous.
She didn't know whether the old recipe mattered to the murder.
But she knew one thing.
Harrison Finch had left behind more enemies than anyone had imagined.
And the deeper Mia dug, the more dangerous the truth became.