Bakeshop at Holiday Bay: Masquerade Mystery

Book 2: Bakeshop at Holiday Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Mystery; Culinary Cozy Mysteries; Animal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

In Bakeshop at Holiday Bay: Book 2, event planner Piper Fairchild is back—and this time, she's taking on her biggest job yet: organizing the annual masquerade ball at the legendary Breckenridge Estate, a seaside mansion steeped in nearly 200 years of history... and ghost stories.

Piper doesn't believe in haunted tales—until she sees something she can't explain. As she juggles mysterious sightings, spooky secrets, and her desire to make the ball a career-defining success, she finds herself pulled deeper into the heart of Holiday Bay and the lives of the people she's grown to love.

Add in her loyal pup Penelope, her bakeshop bestie Paisley, and the ever-charming courtyard crew, and you've got another heartwarming (and spine-tingling!) adventure by the sea.

Perfect for fans of cozy mysteries, seaside settings, and just the right touch of the Halloween magic.

Read more

Release date: October 7, 2025

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 150

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) escapist/easy read (1)

Sample

Chapter 1

“Is this Piper Fairchild?” a woman with a formal tone asked after I’d answered my cell
phone.
“This is Piper. How can I help you?”
“I have Mrs. Colesberg on the line. Please hold.”
The woman put me on hold before I could respond, but since Lucy Colesberg was a new
client of Piper Fairchild Events, I followed the instructions I’d been given. While I’d worked in
the party planning industry for years, I’d only just opened my own business four months ago, so
I was eager to please.
While I waited, I settled back in the leather desk chair that I’d splurged on, and smiled down
at my teacup Havanese, Penelope, who was sitting on a pillow next to my desk, watching me
work. She was such a good assistant. Loyal, dependable, patient. She might not be as helpful in
the office as a human assistant would be, but she worked for dog toys and treats and was an
enormous asset in the customer relations department, given that most of my customers loved her.
“Piper?” Lucy asked after coming on the line less than a minute later.
“Good morning, Lucy. How can I help you?”
“I need to make changes to the plans we discussed for the holiday open house.”
I figured that would be fine since the open house Lucy and I had discussed for the fifty to
seventy-five guests the Colesberg family planned to invite to their home wasn’t to take place
until December twenty-first, and this was only mid-October. “If you’ll just give me a moment,
I’ll find the notes I took during our previous conversation.” I opened my desk drawer, but didn’t
see the file I was looking for, so I piled everything that had been inside the drawer onto the
surface of my desk in an effort to locate it. My best friend and business partner, Paisley Bradford,
had been nudging me to set up the file cabinets I’d recently purchased. Perhaps I really did need
to take the time to do that.

“Ah, yes,” I said once I found the file. “The last time we spoke, you requested a Christmas
buffet for up to seventy-five guests to be held from eleven a.m. until four p.m. on Sunday,
December twenty-first. You asked that I provide food, décor, and music appropriate for the
holiday. Does that all sound right?”
“That is what we discussed. The problem is my husband has decided to invite his business
associates to the party in addition to the friends and family I’d planned on, which means the
guest list will need to be increased by at least fifty.”
“So the total number of guests we’re looking at will increase from seventy-five to one
hundred and twenty-five.”
“We should plan for a maximum of one hundred and fifty since I haven’t been able to get an
accurate number from my husband.”
“That’s fine. I’ll plan for one hundred and fifty guests. Any other changes?”
“The family-style buffet we discussed will need to be modified.”
Modified? “Are you asking for a sit-down dinner?” I hoped not, since I had no idea where I’d
find a venue for a sit-down dinner for up to one hundred and fifty guests the Saturday before
Christmas at this late date.
“No. We’d still like to hold the event in our home, and we’d like to offer food that can be
eaten while mingling or standing at the tall cocktail tables we discussed, so a buffet would work
best, but my husband will be looking for a menu to impress.”
I assured the woman I’d be able to provide her with any menu items she decided on, even
though I had no idea if the caterer I’d planned to use would be able to handle a gourmet
selection. Paisley had planned to provide sweet treats for the open house, but I’d hired a new
company based in Bar Harbor that was known for their casual homestyle buffets to handle the
rest.
“Do you have a menu in mind?” I asked my client in an attempt to wrap my mind around the
exact sorts of changes we’d need to make.
“Not specifically. My husband wants something nice. Sushi rather than hot dogs.”
Hot dogs had never been a menu item, but I understood what my client was looking for.
“Why don’t you let me work on a sample menu. Once I have some options for you to choose
from, we can talk again.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll expect to hear from you in a week or so.” With that, she hung up.
I put my head in my hands and groaned. When Mrs. Colesberg first spoke to me about the
open house, she assured me she was looking for a casual event for family and friends with simple
food items that could be enjoyed while mingling. She wanted food choices that could be enjoyed
by both children and adults, and she wanted food that would be easy to keep either hot or cold, as
needed, throughout the day. We discussed items such as mini meatballs, potato puffs with cheese
and bacon, salmon pinwheels with a dill dipping sauce, ham rolls with cream cheese and chive
filling, individual-sized Christmas quiches, and beef and shrimp skewers with red and green bell
peppers.

Based on the conversation I’d just had with the woman, it sounded as if she was looking to
trade out the simple fare I’d been planning for items such as caviar canapes, crab wontons, and
lobster-stuffed rellenos. Not that any of these items were particularly difficult to make. I just
wasn’t sure the caterer I’d already hired would be on board with the changes. If the woman I’d
hired didn’t feel she could provide the gourmet fare needed, I supposed I’d forfeit my deposit
and find someone else. Of course, since the party was scheduled to take place during the busiest
few weeks of the year, replacing the caterer wouldn’t be easy.
Shuffling things around on my desk, I pulled my notepad out and jotted down a few ideas.
What I really needed, I decided, was to consult with a chef. In the past, I’d consulted with my
good friend, Georgia Carter-Peyton, when it came to putting together a complex menu. Georgia
had always been happy to help when needed, but she was due to deliver her first child, a
daughter, the week after Christmas, so I doubted that she’d be up to helping us cater a holiday
open house so close to her due date.
“Maybe Amy,” I mumbled to myself as I began shoving everything I’d piled onto my desk
back into my desk drawer. Amy Hogan was the head chef and part-owner of the Bistro at
Holiday Bay, a close friend, and an excellent cook.
Penelope must have decided it was time to go out since she began to whimper. I looked down
and smiled. “Okay, just a few more minutes.” The tiny dog got up and began to pace around the
room as I tried to stuff everything I’d just taken out of my desk drawer back into the same desk
drawer. “I’m coming.” I threw up my hands in defeat when the desk drawer refused to close. “I’ll
take you out and then come back and organize this mess. I guess the desk drawer needs some
attention anyway.”
As I stood up, an envelope, which must have slipped onto my lap from the pile on the desk,
fell to the floor. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that the envelope that had settled on the
floor was the same envelope that had contained the threatening note that had been left on my
desk four months ago. I bent over, picked up the envelope that had been returned to me after law
enforcement dusted it for viable fingerprints, and reread the note tucked inside. The typewritten
note demanded that I return what I’d taken or face the consequences. The problem, as far as I
knew, was that I hadn’t taken anything from anyone, which had left me wondering who delivered
the darn thing in the first place.
Officer Alex Weston had tried to find answers for me, but she’d only been able to recover a
partial fingerprint from the envelope, which she unsuccessfully tried to match. At the time, she
assured me that she’d done everything she could, and I believed her.
Penelope barked to get my attention before running toward the door. I set the note on my
desk, grabbed her leash, and we hurried to the grassy area between the road and the beach. Once
Penelope settled on a spot to do her business, I cleaned up after her and then wandered along the
paved pathway that ran parallel to the beach and the bay.
Penelope was a tiny thing, weighing only about five pounds, and while she seemed to have a
lot of energy at times, she preferred brevity when it came to walks. After only a few minutes of
trotting along the pathway, she jumped up onto my leg to let me know she preferred to be
carried. I bent over, picked her up, and headed toward a bench that overlooked the bay. I had a
lot to do this afternoon and really needed to get back, but my life had been pretty stressful as of
late, so I decided a few minutes to decompress was warranted.

As I looked out over the vast expanse of the sea, I felt my blood pressure drop considerably.
There was something so calming about the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves that arrived in
patterns determined by forces I never fully understood. To me, the waves symbolized strength,
beauty, and mystery, and despite how tough my day had been, simply watching the rolling swells
usually eased me into a state of peaceful meditation. I’d just begun to contemplate the idea of
getting back to my busy day when my cell phone rang. It was my good friend, Lacy Parker.
“Hey, Lacy.” Lacy had taken pity on the fact that I was vastly overwhelmed this Halloween
season and had volunteered to help me with the event, which was sponsored by the town. “I was
just thinking about Halloween on the Bay and think we should touch base this week.”
“Things have been hectic with soccer in the afternoon, but I have time to meet in the
morning. Does that work for you?”
“It does work for me. Do you want me to come to your home?”
“I thought I’d just stop by the bakeshop after I drop the kids at school. I should be there by
nine.”
“Nine would work well. I’ll be sure Paisley has fresh coffee and hot muffins.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”
With that, she hung up. Lacy was such an awesome friend. I was sure she had no idea how
much I appreciated her offer of help when she realized that I’d let myself become overbooked.
Since this was my first big event working for the town and my first major holiday since going
out on my own, I really wanted to please everyone.
I set Penelope on the ground and continued down the walkway. Most afternoons, I took
Penelope for a bit of a longer stroll, but today I needed to get back for my client meeting at the
Breckenridge estate. I’d been so thrilled when Hillary told me that Catherine Breckenridge
agreed to hire me to plan her annual masquerade ball that I really hadn’t stopped to think about
how stressful and time-consuming it would be to manage such a high-profile event in addition to
the Halloween event I was coordinating for the town. The reality, however, was that if I wanted
to develop a reputation with the wealthy clients who owned vacation homes in the area, I’d need
to accept jobs that would challenge my planning skills and highlight my business.
I was about to turn around and retrace my steps when I noticed that the back door to Bristol
Cunningham’s store, A Bit of This and That, was open. If I cut across the alley and through
Bristol’s store, it would save me at least five minutes. Bristol’s store was the only courtyard
business with access to the alley, which, in my opinion, provided a less desirable setup than the
other four courtyard businesses with access to both the shared courtyard and either Main Street
or Bay Avenue, busy thoroughfares that ran parallel to each other.
“Bristol, are you here?” I called out after Penelope slipped through the back door, which had
been left partially open, and into the delivery area of the craft store.
“In the front,” Bristol called out.
I walked through the stock room that Bristol had set up at the back of the craft store off the
alley, and headed toward the showroom, which featured the craft supplies that had come with the
business. When Bristol first purchased the craft store from Ethel Covington, she indicated that
she had planned to reconfigure things and postponed reopening to allow time to complete the

remodeling. At the time, I figured that made sense, but it had been four months since Bristol had
taken over, and, so far, all she’d done was move things around in the storage area.
“I didn’t know you were back,” I greeted the mysterious woman who appeared to be in the
process of opening crates.
She turned and walked back toward the storage area, and I followed.
“I hadn’t actually planned to be here at all this week, but I had a delivery today, so I came in
for a few hours.”
I looked around the storeroom, which was filled with crates. “Inventory?”
“No, the crates actually contain items I’ve ordered for the remodel. I know it’s been a while,
but I finally decided I was ready to get started.”
“That’s wonderful. Will you have regular store hours next week?” Those of us who shared
courtyard business with the craft store hoped Bristol would work through whatever it was she
needed to work through to open her store, since the craft store had always brought a lot of foot
traffic to the courtyard. Bristol being closed actually hurt all of us.
“I have a lot to do, so I don’t have plans to open at all this month, but soon. Maybe even by
November first. Definitely by mid-month.” She stopped what she was doing and glanced in my
direction. “When I bought the craft store, I had specific ideas of what I wanted, but I’ve changed
my mind at least a dozen times, which has delayed things.”
“I understand. The business is your baby, and I know you want it to be perfect, but I’ve
spoken to several of Edith’s old customers who have been anxious for the reopening of the
store.”
She rested the prybar she’d been using on top of the crate she’d been trying to open. “I
realize that, which is why I’m working on it now.”
“Let me know if you need help with anything.”
“Thanks. It’s kind of you to offer, but I know how busy you are. I heard about the gig you
landed at the Breckenridge estate.” Bristol returned to her prying. “Now, that’s a job worth
putting in the long hours and sacrificing for. From what I hear, the annual masquerade ball is the
social event of the season. Cricket told me that the estate is located up along Millionaire Coast
and the guest list is made up of dignitaries from the entire state.” She referred to Cricket
Abernathy, who, along with her sister, Marnie Abernathy, owned and operated All About
Bluebells, the flower shop that was located in the courtyard.
Millionaire Coast was the local designation for a stretch of shoreline dominated by large
estates owned by wealthy individuals.
“The Breckenridge family is very well off, and I guess their friends and colleagues are as
well.”
“Has anyone from Holiday Bay been invited?” Bristol asked.
“A few locals are planning to attend. The new mayor, of course, as well as several of the
town council members and their plus ones. I noticed that Cap Grainger from the historical
society was on the list, and there are a few others. Business owners and banking professionals
mostly.”

“I’d love to get a peek at things that night. I don’t suppose you’re going to need extra
servers.”
“The servers for this event have been hired by the caterer.” I glanced at my watch. “I guess I
should get going. I have a meeting at the Breckenridge estate this afternoon, and I need to get
ready.”
“The estate is used as a summer-only home. Right? I thought that was what I heard.” Bristol
asked before I could walk away.
“Over the years, the estate has served as both a summer home and a full-time residence.
Currently, the Breckenridge family is only on site during the summer and for holidays and
special events.”
“Is there anyone who lives on site full-time?” she asked.
“I think there are staff who live there year-round to take care of the place. The family has
been collecting valuable artwork for over a century, so I doubt the place is ever left completely
vacant, but to be honest, I’m not sure who all lives there. I do know there are only a handful of
staff on site right now.” I glanced down at Penelope. “I really do need to get going.”
“Okay. Thanks for stopping in.”
I called for Penelope to follow me, and then we both headed out the front door of Bristol’s
store and into the common area shared by all five businesses with access to the courtyard.
Penelope noticed that Lou Prescott and Velma Crawford, the owners of Firehouse Books, were
having lunch by the fountain and wandered over to say hi. Even though I really needed to
prepare for my meeting, I thought that I had a few minutes to spare, so I followed her.
“Where did you come from?” Lou asked. “I didn’t notice anyone come out of the bakeshop’s
door.
“I walked through Bristol’s store. Penelope and I were out for a walk, and I noticed that the
door to Bristol’s store via the alley was open, so we went in that way.”
“I didn’t know Bristol was in today,” Velma said.
“She told me that she hadn’t planned to be in all week, but needed to be here to accept a
delivery. It didn’t sound as if she planned to stay long.”
“I’m not sure how that girl is going to stay in business if she doesn’t open soon,” Velma said.
“It’s been four months, and the crafters have begun to complain about the fact that they can’t get
their supplies. A lot of the regulars have even gone to Bar Harbor for their holiday supplies. If
Bristol doesn’t open soon, she’s going to miss out on the busiest season of the year.”
“Bristol has a lot of crates in her back room, and she told me that she’s finally ready to get
started on the remodel,” I shared with the women.
Velma responded to my statement. “I’m happy to hear that. As I said, the delay in Bristol
reopening the store has created a real need within the crafting community. I’m sure Ethel would
never have sold her inventory to that girl if she knew she didn’t plan to make it available to her
customers right away. I really don’t understand what the big delay is all about.”
I had to agree with that.

“You’re right about Ethel not being okay with the way things are going,” Lou said. “I called
and spoke to her the other day, and while she is loving retirement, she’s missing the store and her
customers. During our conversation, she asked how Bristol was getting along, and when I
mentioned that the store hadn’t reopened yet, she almost blew a gasket. She even made noise
about coming home and getting things straightened out.”
“Hopefully, she won’t need to do that,” I said. “I’ve only had the opportunity to speak to
Ethel a few times since she’d already decided to sell her place before I arrived in Holiday Bay,
but on those few occasions that we did chat, she struck me as the sort who needs to have clear
boundaries in her life.”
“I think that’s true,” Lou said. “When her children were young, she was one of those super
moms who served as class mom, volunteered for fieldtrips, and served on the PTA, and then,
after her children got older, she was all in with the craft store and spent a lot of hours there. I
think her husband felt it was his turn for some of her attention, and I also think that Ethel knew
that if she was going to give him the focus he deserved, she’d need to step away from the other
distractions in her life, including the store.”
“She does seem happy now,” Velma said. “I’m not sure that she thought she would be in the
beginning, but Ethel being Ethel has given a hundred percent of her energy to this new adventure
with her husband, and I understand they’re even creating videos showcasing the best places to
hike, stay, and eat, and then they’re posting them on social media for the over sixty RVers.”
“I saw one of those videos on Ethel’s Instagram page,” I said. “It was both informative and
hilarious. If I were a senior out traveling the country, I’d follow her posts.”
Lou chuckled. “In all the time I’ve known Ethel, I never would have labeled her as funny, but
doing these videos really has tapped into her sense of humor.”
The three of us chatted for a few more minutes, but eventually, I made a comment about
needing to get ready for my meeting at the Breckenridge estate.
“How’s that job coming along?” Velma asked.
“Everything seems to be right on track. It’s a huge job and I will admit to feeling
overwhelmed at times, but I think everything will work out. I’ve been working with a woman
named Hillary who has done this event before, and I’ve put in a ton of hours to ensure that I
haven’t missed anything. At this point, I expect smooth sailing, but until the event actually
begins, it’s hard to know what may have been overlooked.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Velma assured me. “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful comments
from my friends and customers about some of the other events you’ve planned. Mary Sue Devine
from the library went on and on about what a good job you did organizing the library fundraiser,
and Willa Wilson was so happy with the birthday party you planned for her thirteen-year-old that
she’s been going around town handing out your business cards. I know that starting any new
business can feel like an uphill battle, but it seems like you are already establishing yourself as
the party planner to call if your event must be perfect.”
“I hope that’s true. I try to do a good job, and most of the time, I think I pull it off, but self-
doubt creeps in every now and then, and I find myself wondering if I should have taken the huge
risk I took when I made the decision to go out on my own.”

“Only you can decide that,” Lou said. “But from where I’m sitting, you’re only just starting
the journey that will take you to the amazing future you’ve been destined for.”
I appreciated Lou’s boost of confidence. Today was one of those days when I really needed a
kind word. Penelope had been having fun playing with Lou’s orange tabby, Toby, and wasn’t
happy when I told her it was time to go, but eventually, she obeyed. In many ways, Penelope was
my very best friend. Not that I didn’t have human friends, but I couldn’t think of a single living
soul who had been there during all my ups and downs the way Penelope had. I’d heard people
whisper about the crazy dog lady who carried her pooch around in her purse, but I didn’t care.
Penelope enjoyed tagging along with me when I went about my day, and I liked to bring her
whenever I could. Today, of course, was not one of those days, so I’d need to leave my little
princess with Paisley and hope that she wouldn’t be too upset when I departed without her.

Chapter 2

Even though I’d gotten a later start than I’d planned, I made it to the Breckenridge estate with
minutes to spare. The estate was tucked away in a small cove east of Holiday Bay. The mansion
majestically sat on a bluff overlooking the sea, offering an expansive view rivaled by only a few
other properties in the area.
“I have a two o’clock meeting with Hillary Thatcher,” I said to the woman dressed in black
and white when she answered the door.
“Of course, Ms. Thatcher is expecting you. She’s been delayed by a call from her niece, but
she should be able to join you in a few minutes. I’ve been instructed to escort you to the patio
and bring you a beverage.”
“Thank you; that would be nice.” I followed the woman, whose nametag read Fawn, through
the mansion to the rear entrance, which led to the patio and the expansive grounds stretching
beyond it. The maples that appeared to grow naturally on the hillside beyond the groomed lawn
were brilliant with fall colors that almost took my breath away.
“Iced tea or lemonade?” Fawn asked after I’d been seated near the fountain at the center of
the outdoor seating area. The large room where Hillary and I had met the last time I was here
was magnificent, but there really was nothing better than a New England afternoon in October.
“Iced tea, please. I see that the geese are gone from the pond.” The last time I’d been here,
there were several geese on the freshwater pond.
“They flew off a few days ago,” Fawn answered. “I guess it’s just about that time of the year
when geese fly south.”
“I guess it is at that.”

“I’ll fetch your tea. Ms. Thatcher should be out in a few minutes, but feel free to look around
while you wait.”
By “look around,” I assumed she meant that I was welcome to look around the patio and
grounds, not the mansion, so I got up and walked toward the pond. I wasn’t sure if the pond was
natural or man-made, but given the lack of a natural source of fresh water, such as a stream or
other tributary, I assumed it was man-made.
Once I walked around the pond, I wandered over to the edge of the bluff to sit on the bench
overlooking the sea. The masquerade ball would be held indoors, which made sense given the
time of year, but I imagined an outdoor event during the summer months would be spectacular.
The patio area was large enough to accommodate more than one hundred guests, and the grounds
surrounding the patio were extensive. It would be dark in the evenings, of course, but there
appeared to be plenty of overhead lighting, so I imagined an outdoor party would be lovely.
Glancing over the edge of the bluff to the sea beneath, I noticed that the tide was out,
exposing a thin strip of sand between the waves and the rocks at the bottom of the bluff. The last
time I was here, Hillary mentioned that the sand was only revealed once a day during the lowest
tide, and even then, it was exposed for just about an hour. I personally wouldn’t risk the tide
rising and trapping me on that little strip of sand, but Hillary had informed me that there were a
few brave souls who took advantage of the low tide to access the area.
Today’s low tide was even lower than it had been the last time I’d been to the estate, creating
an even wider stretch of sand. As I stood on the bluff and looked out at the sea, I noticed a man
who appeared to be about my age walking along the sand with a child who looked to be about
nine or ten years old. I wondered if the man was the child’s father, although if he was, he was a
young father. It was more likely, I decided, that he was the child’s uncle or perhaps a friend of
the family.
I felt a bit like a voyeur watching the man with the child when they were unaware of my
presence. The pair seemed to be having a wonderful time, and since I enjoyed watching their
antics, I continued to watch while I waited. It wasn’t until I turned to look back toward the patio,
diverting my gaze, and then turned back toward the beach, that I lost them.
“Weird,” I whispered to myself as the young man with the child, who was there one minute
and seemed to have disappeared the next, was replaced by an old man who looked to be well into
his golden years. Given my vantage point, I could see pretty far down the beach, but no matter
how hard I tried to find them, the man and the child seemed to have disappeared.
I turned my attention to the old man wearing dated clothing who had appeared in their place.
He wasn’t walking or really doing anything. He was merely standing there, staring at the sea
with his hands locked behind his back. I hoped he was aware of the danger that would occur due
to the rising tide, and assumed he was. He had that seafarer look about him that seemed to
suggest he’d grown up on the water and knew all about the hidden danger even on a beautiful
day like today. I wondered who he was and made a mental note to ask the housekeeper when she
returned with my iced tea. I thought about walking down the staircase to the beach to introduce
myself when Hillary stepped out of the mansion and onto the patio. I stood up and waved to her.
She waved back, and I headed in her direction.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said when I joined her.
“No problem. I was enjoying the view.”

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” She motioned toward the patio table where Fawn had left a pitcher of
iced tea and two glasses. “I’m afraid my niece is in a bit of a crisis, which isn’t at all odd for her,
and she’ll likely be calling me back in a little while, so I guess we should dig right in.”
“Of course.” I pulled a file folder for the event out of my shoulder bag and handed it to the
woman. “The packet I will leave with you includes the plans we discussed the last time I was
here. Everything has been confirmed, right down to the linens and dinner service rental. The
caterer you requested has confirmed and will call you directly to set up a tasting.”
“Yes, I’ve spoken to her. I’ve arranged to meet with her tomorrow, so we should be set there.
Has your business partner confirmed the availability of the desserts I requested?”
“She has, and like the caterer, she is willing to bring samples by if you’d like.”
She paused. “I’m pretty busy this week, and since I’ve heard nothing but praise for Ms.
Bradford and her delicious tarts, I may skip the sampling. I’ll let you know if I change my
mind.”
“I’ll let Paisley know, but if you change your mind, I’ll be happy to arrange for a tasting.”
“Now, let’s talk about the flowers.”
I pulled up a file on my tablet that included photos of the sample bouquets Marnie and
Cricket Abernathy had worked up. Luckily, Hillary found them to be exactly what she’d
envisioned.
I showed her samples of the linens, serving dishes, and place settings. I had samples of the
centerpieces for the dining tables as well as photos of the ice sculptures that would be created for
the buffet table. Hillary was easy-going and seemed happy with everything. I had a few questions
about the placement of the orchestra in the ballroom, as well as the number and size of flower
arrangements for the area, so we headed inside.
The ballroom was massive, which was nice since the Breckenridge family was known for
inviting everyone who was anyone to these events. I looked in the room where the dinner service
would be set up, as well as the kitchen, again. I was about to ask about access to the patio area
during the event when the call Hillary had been expecting came through. She excused herself to
take the call and asked Fawn to get me anything I needed and then show me out. I figured the
housekeeper wouldn’t be able to answer my questions about patio access during the masquerade
ball, so I decided to grab my belongings and leave. As we walked down a hallway of closed
doors, we came to a room with an open door that looked to be a study, and I noticed a portrait on
the wall.
“Who’s the man in the painting?” I asked the housekeeper.
“Mr. Breckenridge.”
“Joseph Breckenridge?” Joseph Breckenridge, the current patriarch of the family, was a man
in his nineties, who I realized could have been the man on the beach, since the man on the beach
seemed weathered in the same timeless sort of way the portrait on the wall made the subject
appear.
“Grover Breckenridge, ma’am.”

Grover Breckenridge was the original patriarch of the Breckenridge family. I didn’t have the
whole history, but I remembered that he built the mansion in Maine in the mid-eighteen
hundreds.
“The man in the portrait looks a lot like a man I saw earlier. Perhaps Joseph Breckenridge is
in residence?”
“No, ma’am. Analysa Breckenridge, the daughter of Joseph’s second son, Farmer, is in
residence. The rest of the Breckenridge family, however, isn’t scheduled to arrive until a day or
two before the ball. I suppose the man you saw on the beach may have walked down from a
neighboring property. There are quite a few estates to both our east and west.”
“Yes, I imagine that explains things.”
I took a few notes, tucked my notebook beneath my arm, thanked the housekeeper, and then
headed back to town. The drive up the coast from the Breckenridge estate was lovely, and I
found myself wishing I had time to slow down a bit and really enjoy the view. When I decided to
open my own business, I expected to be busy, but I hadn’t anticipated how busy I’d be. I did best
when I had balance in my life, but maybe that balance would come later. ...