A Broth of Betrayal (27 page)

Authors: Connie Archer

Chapter 2

J
ANIE SHIFTED THE
branches of brightly colored autumn leaves, rearranging them in a wooden cask, one
of several placed around the restaurant. “What do you think, Lucky?”

“I think it’s fabulous. Maybe you should consider a career in interior decoration,
even though I’d hate to lose you.” Lucky’s compliments were sincere. The restaurant
was filled with morning light filtering through the yellow gingham curtains and reflecting
off the wide pine floors of the By the Spoonful Soup Shop.

Janie laughed. “Don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon. I’ll be stuck in Snowflake
for the rest of my life, more likely.” She pushed an unruly branch back into place.
“But at least we’re all dressed up for Hallowe’en.”

“I mean it, Janie. Look at this.” Lucky waved her arm to indicate the work that Janie
had accomplished—wooden casks of autumn leaves, brilliant reds and oranges from the
autumn chill, cornstalks and baskets of multicolored gourds in the front window. “It
really looks terrific.”

Lucky’s grandfather Jack had decided to hold a promotion for the Spoonful—free soup
from three o’clock to five o’clock on the afternoon of Hallowe’en. Lucky agreed that
would be a great idea. It would cover the time period when children were released
from school and the sun went down at the witching hour. Jack had also decided to sponsor
a jack-o’-lantern contest. Anyone could donate, each entry anonymous, and every customer
would have one vote for their favorite by secret ballot. The prize would be three
free all-you-can-eat meals for two at the Spoonful any day of the week.

Janie and Meg, the Spoonful’s other waitresses, and Sage, their chef, had each contributed
carved pumpkins to get the contest rolling. Janie’s jack-o’-lantern sported a smile,
red lips, teeth of seeds and twig eyelashes. Meg had carved one that looked like a
tiny demon. Sage’s was a leering witch, with a parsnip nose. The jack-o’-lanterns
were lined up on a long table against the wall. Tiny battery lights twinkled inside
each of them.

Lucky could hardly believe that ten months had elapsed since she had returned home
to Snowflake to take over her parents’ business. Their sudden death on an icy road
had changed her life forever. Two more months would mark a full year. Somehow she
had managed to keep the restaurant afloat. At first she had been terrified of taking
over the Spoonful, and doubtful about her decision to stay. But now, this path felt
the most natural one in the world.

“You can’t really see the lights inside the pumpkins during the day,” Janie said.
“Maybe we should turn them off for now, and save the batteries ’til it’s dark.”

“Good idea.” Lucky looked up from laying out place mats on the tables.

Janie held a wooden bowl full of gourds in her arms and was staring intently out the
front window. Something about her expression caught Lucky’s attention.

“Janie? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Janie continued to stare across the street to the opposite sidewalk on
Broadway. “It’s just . . .”

Lucky walked over to Janie and followed her gaze. “What do you see?”

“That man. I’ve seen him before.” Janie nodded her head, indicating a tall muscular
man with a full head of thick auburn hair, streaked with gray. He stood on the other
side of the street, in the shade of an awning as though waiting for someone.

“Maybe he’s someone in town working for the Harvest Festival,” Lucky said. Snowflake,
Vermont, had been chosen as this year’s location for a fall event, hosting a local
farmers’ market, pony rides and a corn maze for children. Ernie White, a very successful
businessman from Lincoln Falls, a much larger town, was the moving force behind the
Festival.

“You’re probably right.” Janie shrugged and flipped over the sign on the front door
to read OPEN. “I just feel like I’ve seen him around a lot.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Janie turned and headed for the kitchen to help Sage prepare for the morning rush.

The bell over the door jingled just as Lucky finished laying out the last of the napkins
and silverware. Hank Northcross and Barry Sanders, two of the Spoonful’s most loyal
regulars came in every morning. Retired gentlemen, they were often together and were
usually the first customers of the day. Hank was tall and thin. His hair, completely
gray, was cropped close to his head and he wore pince-nez glasses that constantly
slid down his long nose. Barry, much shorter and very plump, was fond of brightly
colored shirts that barely buttoned over his midsection. Today he was dressed in an
orange and black plaid in deference to the season.

“’Morning, Lucky . . . Janie. You too Meg,” Barry called out. “Jack around?”

“He’ll be here shortly. He’s picking up some supplies in Lincoln Falls.”

“You still let the old man drive?” Hank asked in jest, but there was an undercurrent
of worry to his question.

Lucky’s grandfather had suffered from wartime flashbacks most of his life. When she
returned home months before, she realized that Jack had other, more serious health
problems. Fortunately these had since been alleviated by medical treatment, but she
still worried about him.

“Couldn’t stop him if I tried,” she answered. Jack was the only family she had now.
He needed to feel useful and she needed his support. There was no doubt in her mind
that he was essential to the smooth running of the Spoonful. Lucky approached the
corner table where Hank and Barry always sat. “Coffee?”

“Yes. Perfect,” Barry answered.

Lucky retrieved cups and saucers from behind the counter and poured two cups for the
men. She placed them on a tray with a pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl and carried
them to the corner table where Hank and Barry were already setting up a game of chess.
“Don’t forget Jack’s pumpkin carving contest. He’ll be disappointed if you don’t both
contribute.”

“We haven’t forgotten,” Hank spoke. “Wait’ll you see mine. I’m quite sure I’ll win.”

“Not so fast, you old coot. I’m gonna beat the pants off you.” Barry looked up. “What
do you have for specials today, Lucky?”

“We have three new soups—Sage has a pumpkin rice with Persian spices, he tells me.
I haven’t tried it yet myself, but it smells delicious. And a zucchini leek with potatoes
and a beet mushroom and barley soup. I’ve tried that one, I really love it.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to sample every one of those this week,” Barry said. “We’re gonna
walk down to the Harvest Festival later. I want to pick up some vegetables from the
farmers’ market but I’ll be sure to come back for lunch. Make sure you save me some
of that pumpkin soup.”

“I will, and Jack should be back by then.” Lucky turned back to the counter and saw
Janie standing at the window again. She walked over and stood behind her. The same
man was across the street. He had disappeared for a short while and was now back.

“You’re right. He does seem to be around a lot,” Lucky whispered.

Janie had lost her father quite suddenly more than a year before, just as she was
about to graduate from high school. Lucky tried to keep a good eye on her. Doug Leonard
had been a kindly man who adored his only child. When he died of a massive coronary,
Janie was inconsolable. Lucky felt a deep empathy now that her own parents had been
taken from her in an equally sudden fashion. How much more difficult for Janie, given
her youth, the loss must have been.

“I wonder who he is,” Lucky said.

Janie, a troubled look on her face, didn’t answer. She turned away from the window
and hurried into the kitchen.

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