Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery) (10 page)

“Not
all
, dear, but some,” Ellie said. “She didn’t grow up here in Chatterley Heights, so you wouldn’t have known her from high school. I suspect she is about your age, early thirties, though she claims to be twenty-five. She lives in Baltimore. Her name is Desirée. Such a lovely name, don’t you think?”

“Who names a kid Desirée?”

“Someone prone to romanticism, I imagine,” Ellie said.

“Okay, who did name her? What’s her last name? What is she doing here? And why is she enduring an extended conversation with Olaf Jakobson, of all people?”

“Livie, dear, I don’t know
everything
. I had a brief chat with Desirée, during which she shared her first name and place of residence. She did mention that she is single, and she is thinking about moving to a small town. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

“You’re losing your touch,” Olivia said.

“I was interrupted by your stepfather’s cousin.” Ellie looked to her right, where Calliope Zimmermann was engaged in a spirited conversation with Binnie Sloan. Binnie jotted rapidly in her little notebook.

Olivia groaned. “I hate to imagine what Calliope is saying, but I’m sure I’ll find out from Binnie’s next edition of
The Weekly Chatter
 . . . or this evening on her blog. I need to stop myself from reading that blasted blog.”

“It is best to know your enemy’s strategy,” Ellie said.

“If I must,” Olivia said. “Meanwhile, tell me what you know about Olaf. Maddie told me he said something to Greta that sent her off in a huff.”

“First I need a cookie,” Ellie said. “Oh look, here comes Maddie with a full tray.” She looped her arm through Olivia’s elbow and pulled.

Maddie saw them coming and paused to wait for them. “Hey, you two look hungry. These are the last of the cookies, so you’d better grab with both hands.”

Olivia limited herself to one lebkuchen and one small slice of cardamom tangerine shortbread. “Tangerine is good for me, right?”

“Absolutely, Livie.” Ellie selected a larger shortbread slice and a soft springerle cookie. “I do love decorated cutout cookies,” she said, “but it’s lovely to have such interesting international flavors.” She bit the point off her shortbread wedge. “Hmmm.”

“I baked nearly all night,” Maddie said, “but it was so worth it. It was cardamom tangerine shortbread that got Greta over her squabble with Olaf.” Maddie pointed with her head toward the shelves holding cookie and royal icing mixes, where Greta listened to a middle-aged woman. The latter seemed to be doing all the talking.

“Did you find out what the squabble was really about? What was the huge mistake Greta made that Olaf thought she was being punished for?” Olivia asked.

“Hang on a minute.” Maddie swapped her cookie-laden tray for an empty one on a nearby table. She returned with a shortbread wedge. “It might be a while before I have time to make these again,” she said. “Okay, here’s the scoop. Although Greta isn’t the type to confide, she was mad enough to grumble in nearly complete sentences. What I got from her grumblings was that she and Olaf knew each other long ago and didn’t part on the best of terms. I’m guessing that Greta spurned his advances, or something like that, because it sure sounded to me like Olaf was trying to get back at her for something personal. I mean, why else would he be so angry with her after all these years?”

“That sounds like a lot of supposition,” Olivia said.

“Well, if you want to be all Perry Mason about it.” Maddie bit off the point on her shortbread wedge and took her time chewing it.

“It is a reasonable supposition, though,” Ellie said. “It does sound like Olaf. I know he can carry a grudge for eons. My friend Frannie told me a story many years ago. After his first divorce, Olaf took Frannie out for dinner, and halfway through the meal he proposed to her. He just blurted it out. Frannie thought he was joking, so she laughed. Olaf got red in the face and stalked out of the restaurant. Frannie had to pay for the meal. It was quite an expensive restaurant. At least five years later, right after Frannie lost her first baby, she was having breakfast with her younger sister at Pete’s Diner. Olaf walked in alone. He went right up to her table and told her, in front of her sister, that she looked old and haggard, and he hoped she was sorry for what she’d done.”

“Ouch,” Olivia said.

“I’d have punched him in the nose.” Maddie popped her last bite of shortbread into her mouth.

With an innocent smile, Ellie said, “As it happens, Frannie’s sister stood up and slapped Olaf across the face.”

“How deeply satisfying,” Olivia said, “but didn’t Olaf then take revenge on Frannie’s sister?”

“I doubt it.” Ellie brushed some crumbs off her hands. “You see, Frannie’s sister is married to Pete. As I’m sure you remember, Pete was once a prizefighter, and a good one. He still looks like he could hold his own in the ring. Well, Pete was standing nearby and witnessed the entire exchange. He escorted Olaf out the diner door. Frannie told me she heard Pete advise Olaf to keep his distance from his wife because she had a mean left.”

“Did you make that up?” Olivia asked, while Maddie doubled over with laughter.

“Not a word of it.”

“Speaking of Olaf . . .” Maddie nodded discreetly in the direction of the large front window. Greta stood straight and rigid, her arms hanging at her sides. Bouncing up and down on his toes, Olaf poked his finger toward Greta’s face. “That’s one angry dude,” Maddie said. “Should we rescue her?”

“I believe Greta can take care of herself,” Ellie said.

“I wonder what Greta did to Olaf years ago,” Olivia said, remembering the story her mother had just relayed. “Any ideas, Mom?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ellie said. “I was hoping it was all water under the bridge, since Olaf has married more than once since . . . You see, Greta and Olaf were once engaged to be married. It was so long ago, over fifty years now. They were both quite young. So odd. . . .”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “From your story about Frannie and her sister, I gather that when Olaf feels he has been wronged, he never forgives or forgets.”

“Yes, and that’s what is so odd,” Ellie said. “You see, Olaf is the one who broke off his engagement with Greta. That was one of the reasons Greta left for Europe. As I recall, it was your Aunt Sadie, Maddie, who told me the story.”

“Do you know why Olaf broke off the engagement?” Maddie asked. “And why would he say that
Greta
made a terrible mistake?”

Ellie shrugged her slender shoulders. “Greta could be difficult in those days. Yes, her parents adored her, but they also expected a great deal of her. That wasn’t fair, of course. Greta’s mother’s family emigrated from Sweden before she was born, and her father was a Swedish immigrant. Greta’s parents weren’t well-to-do; they barely scraped by, but they were determined that their bright, beautiful daughter should marry well and rescue the family from poverty. Olaf Oskarson, on the other hand, was the son of Swedish immigrants who managed to become wealthy in America. Although from what I understand, they had been well off in Sweden, too. When Olaf broke off their engagement, Greta’s parents were convinced she had done something to drive him away. And who knows, maybe she did. I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t have done the same.”

*   *   *

B
y late afternoon, the Gingerbread House’s air-conditioning had begun to lose its battle with the intense afternoon heat. The number of event attendees had dwindled steadily once the cookies disappeared. Olivia finished ringing up the last sale and silently declared the close of their welcoming event for Greta Oskarson. As soon as the final guest had left the store, Olivia locked the front door of her Queen Anne.

When Olivia reentered the store, she saw her mother and Maddie helping Greta into the cookbook nook. Greta’s slow pace worried Olivia, so she followed behind them. Ellie, who was far stronger than her wispy figure implied, guided Greta to an armchair and steadied her as she lowered herself into it. Greta relaxed against the soft chair back and closed her eyes. Olivia, Maddie and Ellie exchanged quick, concerned glances.

Greta opened her eyes and said, “Please don’t worry about me. I’ve had these spells before, most often when I’m overtired. After all, I am not young anymore. When I was a young woman, I could spend the entire day racing from shop to shop and then dance until dawn.” Greta rested her head against the back of the armchair. “But those days are only a memory.”

“Could I bring you some coffee?” Maddie asked. “Or perhaps a cold drink?”

“Yes, coffee, thank you. I’ll rest for a few moments and then, if you like, we could go over the list of my cookie cutters. I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have.” With a wan smile, Greta appeared to relax into the armchair. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes again.

Maddie and Ellie headed toward the kitchen to make coffee, but Olivia, noticing Greta’s hunched shoulders, lingered behind. She grew more concerned as Greta’s long, thin fingers tightened her grip on the padded arms of her chair.

“Greta,” Olivia asked softly, “are you sure you’re not feeling ill?”

Greta’s eyelids shot open. “What? No, no, I’m feeling fine. A bit tired, that’s all.” She sat up straighter and laced her fingers together in her lap. “I never used to get tired. Now . . . I suppose no young person ever expects to get old.” Greta gazed up as if anticipating a response, but Olivia didn’t know what to say. “There was a young woman at the event this afternoon,” Greta said. “She was a natural blonde, I believe . . . a light, delicate color. Most unusual. She was quite lovely and vivacious. She spoke for some time with Olaf Jakobson. Perhaps you could tell me her name?”

“I know who you mean,” Olivia said, “but I’m afraid I’ve never seen her before.”

“She looked vaguely familiar to me,” Greta said. “Such distinctive hair . . .”

Olivia had noticed a slight hesitation before Greta spoke Olaf’s name. “You and Olaf once knew one another, didn’t you?” Olivia eased into the empty armchair next to Greta.

After another moment of hesitation, Greta said, “Yes, when we were both young. Olaf has aged considerably, but it seems his personality hasn’t changed.”

Olivia sensed Greta was struggling to keep her emotions from showing. She was doing a good job. Olivia couldn’t tell if she felt angry or sad or simply exhausted. “Weren’t you and Olaf friends at one time?” Olivia asked.

“Friends?” Greta pondered the question. “I suppose we were, for a brief time.” With a light laugh, she added, “It’s hard to believe, but when we were quite young, Olaf used to come over to my house to bake cookies with my mother and me. Olaf loved to press cookie cutters into the dough. He did it rather violently.”

Olivia was stunned into temporary silence. She had not expected to hear Olaf and cookie cutting mentioned in the same sentence.

Greta glanced sideways at Olivia. “Perhaps you’ve heard that Olaf and I were engaged to be married? This was decades ago, of course. Yet Olaf still harbors a grudge against me. You see, I broke off the engagement.” Greta’s expressive shrug struck Olivia as staged. “Olaf would never admit this, of course, but I ended our engagement because of his disturbing obsession with wealth. Even his interest in cookie cutters was more about their monetary value than their intrinsic worth. Why, he once asked my mother if she’d had her great grandmother’s cookie cutters appraised.”

“Olaf asked that kind of question as a child?” Olivia tried to imagine, as a child, even thinking of such a thing. “How did your mother handle that?”

Greta shrugged again. “Oh, I think she laughed and said the cookie cutters had been in her family for generations, which made them invaluable to her . . . something like that.”

“How did your parents feel about your engagement to Olaf Jakobson?” Olivia asked.

Greta shrugged again. “They were against it, of course. They cared more about my happiness than they did about the Jakobson family wealth. But enough of that. I’m still curious about the young woman Olaf was talking to for such a long time. I can’t help thinking I’ve seen her somewhere before. Although, despite her peculiar hair, that type is rather common, so perhaps she simply reminds me of scores of other young women.”

“My mom spoke with her,” Olivia said. “I think her first name is Desirée, but I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

Greta nodded but said nothing in response. She stared in silence at her own interlaced fingers. Olivia couldn’t see enough of her face to tell, but she was fairly certain that Greta was smiling to herself as she leaned against the back of her armchair and closed her eyes once more.

As Olivia walked toward the kitchen, she recalled her mother’s assertion that it was Olaf who had broken off the engagement, and that Greta’s parents had been upset with her. Was Greta lying about who ended the engagement? Or had she perhaps engineered the breakup? Given Greta’s apparent self-involvement, she might lie to save face. Olivia found it interesting that Greta seemed so determined to discover the identity of the young woman Olaf had talked to during the cookie event. Perhaps Greta hadn’t truly let go of her anger with Olaf for ending their engagement. Was Greta jealous? Or had she enjoyed watching Olaf make a fool of himself over an attractive woman less than half his age?

Leaving Greta in the cookbook nook, Olivia joined Maddie and Ellie in the Gingerbread House kitchen. “Let’s let Greta rest for a few minutes before we bring her coffee,” Olivia said as she poured herself a cup. “It’s odd. I don’t remember seeing Anita Rambert here. Did I miss her?”

“Nope,” Maddie said. “I was watching for her.” Maddie finished filling the dishwasher and pushed the “on” button.

“I was, too,” Ellie said. “In fact, I didn’t see any antiques dealers at the event. I do hope they aren’t going behind your back. Much as I hate to think such a thing, I wouldn’t put it past Anita to try to convince Greta to show her the collection or at least the list. Anita is persuasive. She could easily argue that you aren’t experienced enough to handle the sale of such a valuable collection, Livie.”

“Well, good luck to her.” Olivia took a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and poured three glasses. “The one and only original list is locked safely away in our little wall safe, and I have, on my person, our key to the storage vault that holds the collection. I gave Greta her key soon after she arrived for our cookie event.”