Cottage on Gooseberry Bay: The Fried Piper

Book 22: Cottage on Gooseberry Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Cottage on Gooseberry Bay is a heartwarming mystery series about uncovering secrets, finding hope, and building lasting friendships while embracing the magic of seaside living and small-town celebrations.

In Book 22, a new food truck rolls into town and immediately sparks trouble for Josie when its owner stakes a claim in the fried food market Josie has long considered her specialty. Competition quickly turns personal as the two local chefs clash at every turn. But when one of the feuding caterers is found dead, the other becomes the prime suspect in a murder investigation that threatens to divide the community.

Meanwhile, autumn settles over Gooseberry Bay, bringing changing leaves and unexpected changes within the close-knit group of friends. Adam throws himself into the academy remodel, Ainsley takes on an intriguing new client, Parker struggles to keep up with mounting responsibilities, and Remi becomes more determined than ever to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of the childhood friend he has never stopped searching for.

 

Release date: June 30, 2026

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 163

Sample

Chapter 1

“Lauren Black found my last nerve and has stretched it to the limit,” my good friend, Josie
Wellington, complained as she breezed in through the front door of Ainsley Holloway
Investigations, the PI firm I owned and operated. Her curly brown hair had been mussed by the
wind, creating a halo of chaos that seemed to accentuate the red splotches of anger highlighting
her cheeks.
“And what did Lauren do now?” I asked Josie as she plopped herself down onto one of the
guest chairs positioned on the opposite side of the desk from where I was sitting. Lauren Black, a
local caterer, had only moved to Gooseberry Bay a few months ago. During those few months
she’d lived in our small community, however, she’d managed to ruffle Josie’s feathers to a
degree I found almost alarming.
“She bought a food truck,” Josie answered. “And not just any food truck. A brand new one.
And a really nice one to boot.”
“I see.”
Josie owned and operated a food truck and catering business in the area, which would make
Lauren a direct competitor if she’d purchased her own food truck, so I supposed I could
understand why she might be upset.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Josie asked.
“I guess it would mean that Lauren will be competing for jobs with you going forward.”
“Continuing to compete,” she clarified. “Lauren began stealing my jobs even before she had
a food truck.”
“I guess I did hear that she outbid you on a couple of catering jobs this summer.”

Her face grew even redder. “Jobs I had all but signed contracts for until she came along. And
let’s not forget that she stole the blue ribbon for the gooseberry pie bake-off right out from under
me.”
“Yes, I guess that’s true,” I said, although in my mind, Lauren had won the bake-off fair and
square after entering the superior pie in the Gooseberry Festival’s main event.
“It’s green,” Josie added. “Pickle green,” she specified.
I took a moment to try to catch up with Josie’s train of thought before responding. “And
you’re afraid that everyone will begin to associate fried pickles with Lauren since her food truck
resembles a pickle, even though everyone knows that you are the reigning queen of fried
pickles,” I said after working it out in my mind.
“Exactly. There’s a group of us who do local festivals, and we have a system. Amber
Johnston does funnel cakes, elephant ears, churros, and other sweet treats. Felicity Reyburn is the
one to look for if you’re hoping for seasoned corn on a cob. Lucia Sutton is burgers and brats.
Dennis Stockholm is brisket and chicken skewers. And I’m fried food, especially fried pickles,”
Josie emphasized.
I knew that Josie had developed a reputation for having the best fried pickles in the area after
she developed a secret sauce that had folks coming across the Sound in droves for a taste.
“Just because Lauren has a new food truck that happens to be the color of a pickle, doesn’t
mean that she plans to sell fried pickles or fried anything for that matter.”
“The name of her food truck is The Fried Piper,” Josie almost shouted. “And there’s a giant
pickle on the sign. Fried food, especially fried pickles, is my thing. What am I going to do?”
“Have you tried talking to her about it?” I asked.
Josie frowned, and then she scowled. “There’s no talking to that woman. I’ve tried to break
the ice with her a few times in the past and have even tried to explain the informal agreement
amongst the food truck owners, but my words seem to have landed on deaf ears.” She let out a
huff of frustration. “There really is no reasoning with the woman. If I’m going to protect what’s
mine, I’m going to need to resort to desperate measures.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “Desperate measures? What exactly do you mean by
‘desperate measures?’”
Josie got up and began pacing around the room. “I’m not sure, but I will need to come up
with a way to eliminate the woman from my life once and for all.”
“Eliminate?” I squeaked.
Josie nodded. “The woman is infringing on my territory. I’ve spent years building my
business, and I’m not going to allow some newbie in the area to poach even one customer who
should rightfully be mine.” Josie walked over to the window and looked out on the boardwalk,
which was directly across the street. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind. “Since the
annual Harvest Festival starts the day after tomorrow, I don’t have a lot of time to do whatever
I’m going to do.” She turned and looked at me. “I need to act quickly and decisively. The only
way to approach this is to cut the heart out of whatever plans this woman might have.”

I crossed the room and stood next to my passionate friend, who, while always feisty, was a
bit more worked up than usual. I could understand her desire to protect what was hers, and I
knew she’d never actually hurt anyone, but if someone who didn’t know her the way I did heard
her say what she’d been saying to me, they’d probably call the police. “I know this woman has
you rattled, but please be careful not to do or say anything to make things worse.”
“Worse?” Josie screeched. “How can things be worse? This woman has targeted me. She’s
trying to put me out of business.”
“And why would she be trying to do that?”
Josie shrugged. “No idea. I’d never even met the woman until three months ago when she
snuck in and stole my blue ribbon at the gooseberry pie bake-off.”
“Her pie was pretty good,” I offered.
Josie just glared at me.
“But yours, of course, was better,” I offered diplomatically.
“No, it wasn’t,” she admitted. “Mine was good, but hers was unique.”
It really had been exceptional, I thought to myself, but didn’t say out loud.
Josie turned and crossed the room. “What I need is a strategy. And maybe some help.” She
took her cell phone out and pulled something up. “I need to be sure I’m ready to defend my
territory, and I need to be ready for whatever the weekend might bring.” She punched a number
into her cell phone, but hesitated before hitting the call button. “Do you know where I can get
paint?”
“What kind of paint?” I asked.
“Bright paint. Paint for a sign.”
“You aren’t planning on graffitiing Lauren’s new food truck, are you?”
She looked both shocked and guilty. “Of course not. As I said, I want to make a sign.
Something bright that will draw attention to my food truck, no matter who else might have a
food truck in the area.”
“In that case, I have some paint you can use. It’s in my cottage, but I won’t be home for a few
hours. I have a potential client coming in shortly, and then I’m having lunch with Hope to go
over her needs for the Christmas events. I should be home after that, but if you need the paint
sooner, you can grab it yourself. It’s in the cabinet in my loft office.” Since Josie and her
roommate, Jemma Hawthorn, had a key to my cottage, getting inside wouldn’t be a problem.
“Thanks, Ainsley. I knew I could count on you.”
Suddenly, I found myself wondering if offering Josie my paint had been the best idea. If she
really did plan to make a sign, the paint would work well, but if she had something else in
mind…
I considered offering yet another warning about doing something she’d regret, but Josie
hugged me and scooted back out the door she’d only recently entered through.
I watched Josie cross the street to the boardwalk, which was busy ahead of one of
Gooseberry Bay’s most popular festivals. She paused to speak to the woman who ran the coffee

cart, and then she continued toward the marina. I knew that Josie always set up her food truck in
the park between the boardwalk and the marina, so chances were, she was off to prep her site for
the festival’s launch Friday afternoon.
Once Josie was out of sight, I picked up my cell phone to call Jemma. I’d known Josie for
years, and while it was true that she was a passionate woman who at times acted before thinking,
I was certain that I’d never seen her quite as worked up as she’d been since Lauren had blown
into town. Of course, the fact that she used her victory at the gooseberry pie bake-off as a
platform to use her food truck and compete directly with Josie really just added insult to injury.
“Hey, Ainsley,” Jemma greeted me after the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Josie stopped by.” I knew that Jemma knew that I was at my office to meet a potential client
since she’d volunteered to pet-sit my Bernese Mountain Dogs, Kai and Kallie, until I returned
home.
“Let me guess. Josie’s on the warpath over Lauren’s new food truck.”
“So you’ve already heard about that.”
“I did, and I suspected that Josie might pop in and vent to you about the injustice of it all.”
“Josie was really upset when she stopped by.”
“When we spoke this morning, Josie told me that the word on the street was that Lauren had
plans to expand her catering business in Gooseberry Bay. She didn’t have any of the details at
this point, and hadn’t even confirmed the rumor about the expansion, but she was justifiably
upset about the idea of direct competition. We talked about it, and I finally managed to get her to
agree to wait to see how things worked out before she went all Rambo on the woman. She was
reluctant to do things my way, but eventually agreed.”
“But that was before she saw the food truck.”
“Exactly. Candace from the sunglass cart on the boardwalk called me a little while ago to let
me know that Josie had stopped by and given her an earful about the new food truck in town.”
“Other food trucks are operating in the area, and Josie has never seemed to mind a bit of
competition, so why is she so bent out of shape about this woman?”
Jemma paused and then answered. “For some reason, Lauren rubbed Josie the wrong way
from day one. The animosity she feels toward Lauren may be because Lauren beat her in the
gooseberry pie bake-off when she’d been sure she had it wrapped up, or it may be that the smug
attitude Lauren exhibits whenever Josie’s around is pushing her out of shape. But as I said, we
talked things through, and I really thought we had a handle on the situation. I’m not sure what
happened, but something must have set Josie off.”
“According to Josie, the food truck is not only green, which Josie is convinced creates a link
to fried pickles, but Lauren named her food truck The Fried Piper, and there’s a giant pickle on
the sign.”
Jemma audibly blew out a long breath. “That’s not good. Josie has firmly established herself
as the go-to person for fried food at festivals and local events, earning a reputation for her
delicious offerings. Since the other food trucks each have their own niche, it works. If Lauren is

planning to compete directly with Josie, there’s no telling how far the fallout from this food truck
war will spread.”
“Can Lauren compete directly?” I asked. “The degree to which the food trucks have
traditionally coexisted almost makes it seem like they have some sort of formal agreement.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t a formal agreement. The food truck owners decided they wanted
to maintain their friendships, so they sat down and worked out informal territories a few years
ago. Josie has fried food, Amber provides sweets, Dennis does smoked meat, someone else does
barbecue, and so on. I guess a formal agreement attached to the permit process might have been
nice, but since the food truck owners all seem to get along so well, it really wasn’t necessary.”
I guessed I could understand that. We lived in a community where folks looked out for one
another. If there had been a way for all the food trucks to do well, the owners probably would
have been on board and supported it. “I wonder if the other food truck owners have responded to
Lauren’s arrival in town as negatively as Josie has.”
“I don’t think so,” Jemma responded. “I ran into Amber last week, and she made a comment
about getting together with Lauren for coffee earlier in the week. It sounded like they’d struck up
a friendship. Of course, Amber’s main source of income comes from her secretarial job, and her
food truck gig is something she only does for festivals and local events. She doesn’t make her
living in the catering industry like Josie and a couple of the others, so Lauren wouldn’t be
competing with her daily.”
I took a moment to think about the local food truck industry. Other than buying treats from
the food trucks during festivals and local events, I really didn’t know much about food trucks,
their owners, or their business dealings. “Other than Josie, which of the other food trucks from
the local festival group runs a catering business?” I asked Jemma.
“As far as I know, Dennis is the only food truck owner, other than Josie, who does private
events in addition to festivals and local events. Dennis and Josie get along okay, and as far as I
know, there haven’t been any problems between them.”
“And do we know for certain that Lauren plans to expand her reach from festivals and local
events to include private events?” I asked.
Jemma confirmed it. “Josie lost two weddings this past August that she was sure she had all
locked down after Lauren swooped in and underbid her at the last minute.”
I remembered Josie mentioning that, but I wasn’t sure how Lauren had done what she’d done
without a food truck, so I asked Jemma.
“The weddings that Lauren underbid were booked at venues that had kitchens, so she didn’t
need a food truck. Now that she has one, I suspect that she’s going to be competing with Josie on
an even wider range of jobs than she has to this point.”
I supposed competition in business was something most business owners had to deal with,
but I still felt bad for Josie, who’d only had to deal with out-of-town competition to this point.
“Anyway, when she stopped by, Josie was looking for some paint. I told her she could use the
paint we had left from the posters we made for last year’s haunted house. The paint is in the
cabinet in my loft office.”

“If she still needs the paint once she gets home, I’ll grab it for her. Did Josie happen to
mention what she wanted the paint for?”
“She said it was for a sign. I hope that’s what she has planned. I’m going to feel awful if I
wake up tomorrow and find out that someone painted Lauren’s brand-new food truck with
fluorescent orange, green, yellow, and purple poster paint.”
“I don’t think Josie would actually do something like that.”
“I hope not. Listen, my potential client just pulled up out front. I need to conduct a new client
interview with her, and then I’m having lunch with Hope. When I’m done with that, I’ll come by.
Maybe we can talk about a way to support Josie while protecting her from herself at the same
time.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, she hung up.
I set my cell phone on my desk, turned, and smiled at the woman who had just walked in
through the front door. I offered her the seat Josie had recently vacated. “I’m sorry to have kept
you waiting.”
“Not a problem,” she responded. “I’m just so grateful that you were able to see me on such
short notice.”
The petite woman with long raven-black hair seemed nervous, but given the fact that her
sister was missing, I supposed that was understandable.
“I’m happy to hear what you have to say, but I have a few questions before I commit to
taking you on as a client.”
“Of course.” The woman smiled. “What do you want to ask?”
“Let’s start with the details. Name and address for starts.”
The woman nodded. “As I told you when I called, my name is Jessie Groverson. I live in
Portland, Oregon, and I’m here in town to look for my sister, Natalia Groverson.”
“You mentioned on the phone that Natalia has only been missing for two days.”
She nodded. “I know that a grown woman missing for two days doesn’t sound like cause for
alarm, but there are extenuating circumstances.”
“I’m listening.”
“Natalia and I were close growing up, and we remained close into adulthood, but then she
hooked up with a man named Harlin Bradwin two years ago. Harlin considers himself a free
spirit who apparently feels constrained by any sort of commitment, including the commitment
associated with holding down a regular job. I will admit that I may not have all the details, but I
could see from the first moment I met the guy that he was a loser who was only looking for
someone to support him financially. When I found out that he was moving in with Natalia, I
made it clear to my sister that the man was a user who would never really care about her. Nat
thought that I’d misjudged the guy and insisted that I’d give him a chance if I cared about her.
Initially, I really tried to do that, but the guy had this way about him that totally bugged me.
When Natalia asked me for a large sum of money to give to this man for an investment he was
interested in pursuing, I made it clear that I couldn’t support the man or the relationship, and
wouldn’t approve the cash disbursement she was asking for.”

“Okay, wait. You said that you needed to approve the cash disbursement Natalia was after.
Was that because Natalia was actually asking for a loan?”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t a loan. The money Nat wanted to give to her new
boyfriend is hers, but it’s part of a trust. The thing is, Nat has always been impulsive and
irresponsible, so my grandmother decided that I should manage Nat’s trust. The money in the
trust is hers and is to be used for her needs. She receives a monthly allowance, but she can’t
access anything beyond that monthly amount without my approval.”
That sounded like a complicated situation. “Okay. Go on. What happened after you told
Natalia that you weren’t going to approve the money she wanted for her new boyfriend?”
“She was mad, of course. She reminded me that the money in the trust was money that our
grandmother had left her. She argued that since it was her money, she should be allowed to spend
it as she saw fit. When I refused to approve the disbursement, she made it clear that she didn’t
want to have anything to do with me if I was going to block her from using her money. She
basically cut me out of her life, and when she had the opportunity to move to Gooseberry Bay for
a job, she took it. We haven’t spoken since.”
“So it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to your sister,” I clarified.
She nodded. “It had been two years, but Natalia sent me a long text three days ago. She told
me that she’d had some unexpected expenses and asked if I could send her some money in
addition to her monthly allowance. I’d really missed my sister and was thrilled that she seemed
to have opened the door for our reconciliation, so I agreed to give her the extra cash she wanted,
but only if we could meet for lunch first. She texted back and said something about being busy.
She once again asked if I would transfer the cash into her account. I insisted that we needed to
meet and even offered to come to Gooseberry Bay so she wouldn’t have to travel. I suggested a
time and a place. She didn’t respond to my last text, but since she seemed to really want the
money, I showed up at the time and place I’d suggested, hoping she’d be there. She never
showed.”
“Based on what you’ve said, it sounds like your sister never actually agreed to meet with
you.”
“I guess she didn’t,” Jessie responded. “And maybe I wasted my time coming here, but I
guess I just assumed that an extra five thousand dollars would be enough to convince her to put
aside her grievances for an hour.”
“And what did you do after she didn’t show up for lunch?”
“I tried calling and texting numerous times, but she never picked up or responded in any way.
After several hours had passed and I still hadn’t heard from her, I decided to call our attorney to
see if I could convince him to give me Natalia’s current address.”
“So you didn’t have her address?”
She shook her head. “As I said, she cut me out of her life after moving to Gooseberry Bay
with Harlin.”
I jotted down a few notes and then continued with my interview. “And did the attorney give
you the address?”

“He did, eventually. Initially, he wanted to reach out to Natalia directly, but when she didn’t
respond to his attempts, he finally gave me the address. I went to her apartment and found
Harlin, who was less than happy to see me. He told me that Natalia was out of town and
wouldn’t be back for a few days. I told him that I had just talked to Natalia, and that she’d asked
me to come to Gooseberry Bay to have lunch with her. He accused me of lying.”
“Which, in a way, I guess you were,” I pointed out.
“Maybe I was exaggerating, but I wasn’t exactly lying. Nat had reached out to me. I had the
text message she initially sent me as proof, but Harlin didn’t seem to care. He slammed the door
in my face, so I left.”
“Is that when you called me?”
“No, I went to the police. I wanted to report my sister as a missing person, but I didn’t get far
with that. For one thing, Natalia hadn’t been missing long enough to warrant a missing persons
report. I explained about the text and my lunch date with Natalia, and I think that got the man’s
attention at first, but when I admitted that I hadn’t actually spoken to Natalia in over two years, I
could see that I was losing him.”
“Did the deputy do anything? Did he write anything down or promise to look into Natalia’s
whereabouts on your behalf?”
“He did make some notes, but didn’t say anything about looking into the situation.”
“I’ll need Natalia’s address.”
Jessie jotted it down on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
I glanced down at my notes. “Other than stopping by your sister’s apartment and speaking to
Harlin, and talking to the police, have you done anything else to find your sister?”
“I called one of her old friends. Someone we both knew before Harlin came into the picture.
She admitted that she’d only spoken to Natalia a few times since Nat had moved to Gooseberry
Bay, and that Natalia had called her about three months ago, asking for a loan after she’d been
fired from her job.”
“Did the friend give her the loan?”
“She did. She also said that Natalia had never paid her back as promised.”
“Do you know how much the friend lent her?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“Did the friend say why Natalia was fired?”
“No, but Nat never has had much success keeping a job. She was always too flighty and
unpredictable.”
“Do you know where she’d been working?”
“For a temp agency. I think it was something like Bayside Temps.”
I made a note of that.
My cell phone buzzed, so I glanced down to look at the message I’d been left. I then glanced
at the clock before getting up, opening the file cabinet, and taking out a file folder. “This is

standard paperwork I have all my new clients fill out. It might seem like a lot, and some of the
questions might appear irrelevant, but it will help if you are as detailed as possible. The more
information I have, the better the chance I’ll have of giving you the answers you’re after.”
“Okay. I’ll fill this out right now.”
I handed the woman a pen. “I have a message that I really need to respond to. I’m going to
step out into the hallway, but I’ll be back in less than five minutes. Just go ahead and get started,
and if you have any questions, you can ask me when I get back.”
Once I got my new client settled, I stepped into the hallway that connected the four
storefronts that shared the common area. I opened my message app to read the rest of the
message left to me by an old friend of my dad’s before my dad passed. The message pertained to
information I was trying to dig up for a good friend who was hoping to locate a childhood friend
who may or may not have been placed in witness protection.
Punching Remi’s cell number into my cell phone, I waited for him to answer. When Remi
had asked me to help him with his latest project this past June, I’d had other obligations,
including a trip to England to meet my fiancé, Adam Winchester’s, family. While I had done a
bit of snooping before I’d left, I hadn’t really dug into Remi’s mystery until I returned from our
trip just after Labor Day.
“Hey, Ainsley. Did you find something?” Remi greeted me after one ring.
“Not really, but I did hear back from my dad’s PI friend, and I wanted to talk to you about
what he found. I have a client in my office right now, and then I’m having lunch with Hope. Can
you come by in a couple of hours?”
“Actually, I’m in Seattle today, but I can be on the next ferry back across the Sound.”
Remington Beckett, known as Remi to his friends, owned a chain of video game arcades and
frequently traveled between Seattle and Gooseberry Bay, where two of the ten West Coast
locations were situated. “I can meet you at your office later in the day, or I can come by your
cottage.”
“Come to the cottage. Adam’s spending some time at the academy this week, so it’ll just be
the two of us. Since I need to meet with Jemma about the Josie situation, maybe you can come
by the cottage with some takeout around seven.”
“The Josie situation?”
“I’ll fill you in later. I have beer and wine, so don’t bother with beverages.”
“Any requests?”
“Maybe Italian. Pasta, not pizza. I’m sort of pizza’d out. Tacos would also be good if you
aren’t into pasta.”
“Italian sounds good to me. Do you want your usual?”
“I do. I’ll see you at seven.”
By the time I made it back to my office, Jessie had filled out most of the paperwork I’d left
for her. Her answers were complete and concise. I could see that she was the sort to be organized
and efficient. That would be advantageous if the two of us ended up working together.

I looked over the paperwork to ensure that I had everything I needed. “Okay, let me look into
a few things, and then I’ll call you so we can work out a strategy going forward.”
Jessie agreed that would work fine for her, thanked me, and then left.
Since I still had a few minutes before I needed to leave to meet with Hope, I looked up the
number for Natalia’s ex-employer. It took me four tries to finally reach the right person to talk to.
I identified myself as a private investigator looking for a missing person, and surprisingly, that
seemed to be enough to convince Natalia’s old boss, a woman named Fran Rivers, to speak to
me.
“Natalia was a nice young woman,” Fran shared. “She was a bright little thing, and she
seemed to get along with most everyone in the beginning.”
“In the beginning?” I asked.
“Natalia was a likeable girl and a model employee in the beginning, but then she started
drinking and partying on her days off. As I feared it would, this led to casual drug use, which,
unfortunately, led to substance use during business hours. I really liked Natalia and tried to help
her get cleaned up, but that boyfriend of hers was a bad influence who quickly undid any
progress I’d made. In the end, after almost two years, I had to fire Natalia.”
I thanked the woman, jotted down a few notes, gathered my things, and then headed to meet
with Hope.

 

Chapter 2

Hope Masterson was a good friend and the first person I met after arriving in Gooseberry
Bay. She owned a lovely inn in town located directly across from the bay. After arriving in the
area, I’d headed to the inn to inquire about lodging. Unfortunately, Hope wasn’t able to rent a
room to someone with two giant dogs, but she did have an empty cottage on the peninsula she
was willing to lease for as long as I needed it. Of course, I fell in love with the cottage, the
peninsula it was on, and the other tenants, and decided to stay.
Life on the peninsula with Jemma, Josie, and the rest of the gang had made all the difference
in the trajectory of my life, so, since, in a very direct way, Hope was responsible for all of that, I
felt that I owed this very special woman a debt of gratitude. If not for her willingness to let me
move into the cottage that had belonged to her recently deceased uncle, who knew where I’d be
today.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said to Hope as I joined her at the corner booth she’d managed to
snag.
“You aren’t late. I’ve only been here for a minute.”
The waitress stopped to take my drink order, which I provided, before I nodded toward a
bright red notebook on the table, which was clearly labeled “Christmas” with the current year. “I
can’t believe we’re already talking about Christmas,” I said as I opened my menu to make my
selection.
Hope set her menu aside and then responded. “These festivals sneak up on you if you don’t
stay on top of them, and with the remodel and expansion of the inn this summer, I have a lot of
irons in the fire, so I need to stay organized.”
“I can understand that, and I’m happy to help in any way you need me.”

Hope picked up her water glass, took a sip, and then set it back down. She smiled at me and
then looked me directly in the eye. “I’m happy to hear that you’re willing to help because I need
something big this year. I need someone to take over the management of the Christmas pageant.”
“I’m not much of an actor.”
“I don’t need actors. As I said, I need a manager.”
I took a moment to consider Hope’s request. “I thought Peggy Sue Willoby managed the
Christmas pageant.”
“She did.” Hope began nervously folding and unfolding her napkin. “And she likely will
again in the future, but her husband is having surgery just before Thanksgiving, and she just
didn’t think she could commit to something as labor-intensive as the Christmas pageant.”
I guessed I could understand that. The pageant was a huge commitment. First, there was
casting, and then rehearsals. There would be a need for costumes, advertising, and ticket sales.
The actual pageant only ran for three days: a Friday night performance, a Saturday performance,
and a Sunday matinee. But getting everyone and everything ready for those three performances
would take weeks.
“When do you need to know?” I asked.
“Right away, actually. The first meeting for the volunteers involved with this year’s pageant
is scheduled for next week.”
I raised a brow. “Next week? But this is September. We still have the Halloween Festival to
get through.”
“I realize that, but I have something extraordinary planned for this Christmas, which I feel is
deserving of special attention.”
That statement alone gave me pause. “What exactly do you have planned?”
“It’s not so much what as who.”
“Okay, then, who do you have planned?”
“Orlando Scott.”
“Orlando Scott, the actor?” Orlando Scott had been a big deal thirty years ago, but he was a
bit of a has-been by this point in his career. As his popularity waned, he transitioned from the big
screen to Broadway, then to off-Broadway, and eventually to unremarkable roles in local
productions. Still, even if he was considered a has-been by most, his name was likely to generate
much more attention than the star of last year’s pageant, local insurance broker, Don Updale.
She nodded. “I had a guest, Jessica, who stayed at the inn this past summer. Jessica happens
to be Orlando’s niece. The two of us got to talking about all the local festivals, including the
Christmas event, and somehow, before the conversation wrapped up, Jessica had volunteered to
ask her uncle if he would be willing to star in our little pageant.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right,” Hope agreed. “I didn’t really expect the guy to agree to help us with our
pageant, so I was blown away when Jessica called and told me that Uncle Orlando was in. She
did say, however, that he requested that the theater group do a musical version of A Christmas

Carol this year, which I suppose will be harder than the non-musical version we’ve done in the
past. But before I even had time to think about it, I found myself agreeing.”
“And Angie was okay with this?” Angie Hardley was the pageant director.
“She was not okay with the idea and threatened to walk away from her commitment if we
didn’t go back to the regular script. I felt bad that Angie was upset, but, in a way, Angie walking
away worked out well for us since Orlando has a director he likes to work with who was willing
to direct our little local play for free.”
“Wow,” I said again. I knew I was repeating myself, but I found I was at a loss for words.
“As I said,” Hope continued, “this is a big project. I really need someone organized to take it
on.” She paused and then continued. “I really need you.”
I hesitated.
“Please, Ainsley. I not only need someone who is organized to take over for Peggy Sue, but I
need someone with people skills. Someone, like you, who knows how to smooth things over if
feathers get ruffled. I need someone who can be cool in a crisis.”
I frowned. “Do you think we’ll be having many of those? Crisis, I mean.”
She shrugged. “I hope not, but there are going to be changes to the way we have always done
things, and I know some of our theater volunteers are pretty set in their ways.”
That, I realized, was an understatement. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Her brave smile faded. “Honestly, no. I’ve been second-guessing my decision to agree with
all of this almost since day one. But I already signed a contract with Orlando, and Queenie has
been sending out press announcements to all the media outlets within a hundred-mile radius.”
“Press announcements?”
She nodded again. “What I hadn’t realized when I agreed to this is that Orlando’s willingness
to do our little pageant for almost nothing stems from his use of volunteer projects to enhance his
reputation as a true humanitarian who prioritizes small town America and the preservation of
community above all else. I guess a gig such as ours will help him nail down paying gigs for
another year.”
I guessed that made sense. “And the director?”
“Queenie is both rich and retired. She loves Orlando and loves to direct, but doesn’t really
need the money.”
Even though I remained convinced that this had disaster written all over it, I could see how a
production like this might benefit the community. I was certain that Hope’s newly renovated inn
would be booked to capacity for the three days A Christmas Carol was being performed, and said
as much.
“Seven days,” Hope corrected.
“Seven days?”
She nodded. “The play will run two weekends, Friday through Sunday, with a special
invitation-only performance on opening night, which will be Thursday.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Do you really think we can sell enough tickets to justify seven
performances?”
“If it were you and me selling tickets, then no. But I’ve been assured that selling the tickets
won’t be a problem by the time word gets out that Orlando Scott is going to star as Ebenezer
Scrooge for a special musical production of A Christmas Carol.”
I still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, and I certainly wasn’t sure I’d have time for such an
undertaking, but I knew that having so many tourists in town would be good for all the
merchants as well as the boardwalk vendors, and I did owe Hope a huge favor.
“Okay,” I found myself saying before I had time to rethink my decision. “I’ll do what I can to
help make this idea a reality.”
Hope reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Thank you so much. I knew I could
count on you to make Gooseberry Bay’s Victorian Christmas a huge success.”
“Victorian Christmas?”
Hope began folding and unfolding her napkin again. I had the feeling she had additional
surprises in store for me. “Queenie thought a Victorian Christmas theme would go well with the
theme of the pageant, so our traditional Christmas by the Sea theme will be modified this year.”
“Do you plan to go all in with costumes and period food?” I wondered, realizing that some
residents, in addition to the theater group, would likely be up in arms about all the changes.
“We do plan to go all in. In fact, I’ve started to work on both the costumes we’ll need and the
food that will give our little celebration a hint of authenticity.”
“I guess that all sounds good. What have you worked out so far?”
“Queenie is going to handle the costumes. I guess she knows a person who knows a person
who might be willing to get us what we need for a discount.”
That sounded like a less-than-reliable plan, but okay. “And the food?”
“I guess you must know Lauren Black.”
“I do.”
“We had lunch a few days ago, and she shared with me some ideas she has for food with a
Victorian theme that can be sold from carts. I’m planning to ask her to come to the meeting next
week, and if her ideas are as good as she’s promised, I plan to put her in charge of the food.”
This definitely had me frowning. “Have you spoken to Josie? She usually handles the food
for community events.”
Hope took a sip of her water. “I thought of Josie, but Lauren said that Josie is much too busy
with her catering business to spend a lot of time on a volunteer project.”
“Josie is busy,” I acknowledged. “But I think it might be a good idea to talk to her before you
make a commitment of any sort to Lauren. Josie is committed to the community, and I think she
might care about being put in charge of the food for the Christmas event more than you might
imagine.”
“Okay,” Hope said. “I’m glad you said something. I’ll talk to Josie before I do anything.
Josie’s my friend, and the last thing I’d want to do is step on her toes.”

“I think not stepping on toes is going to be a popular theme as we move forward with this
project.”
Hope smiled. “You’re so right. I knew you’d be the right person for the job.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but I was sure that Hope would have had a hard time finding anyone
else to take on the project if I’d refused to do it.
“So how’s the remodel going?” I asked, deciding that a change of subject was needed if I was
going to have the time I needed to really wrap my head around the huge favor Hope had just
asked of me.
“It’s going well. Trying to stay open during construction has been tricky, but the teardown
portion is complete, and my contractor has assured me that there will be less noise and mess
while he puts things back together.”
“I can’t wait to see it. I imagine it’s going to be lovely.”
“It is. And the expansion is really going to open a lot of doors for me in the future. I’ve had
this idea to host larger events such as conferences, weddings, and themed weekends for a while
now, but I didn’t have the infrastructure to pull it all together. With the new guest rooms,
conference center, and the expansion of the dining room, I think I’ll finally have what I need to
move forward.”
“That’s great, Hope. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thank you. And I want to say once again how grateful I am to you and Adam for buying the
peninsula. I would never have had the funding to take on this project if not for the cash infusion I
received with the sale of the property.”
“It’s us who should be grateful,” I countered. “By agreeing to sell us the property, you have
provided us with a means to stay on the peninsula with our friends and build a larger home for
the two of us and any children we may decide to have in the future.”
“I really am so happy that two of my favorite people found each other. You really are the
perfect couple. Have the two of you set a date for the wedding yet?” Hope asked.
“Not yet. Between the expansion at the academy and our trip to England to visit Adam’s
family, Adam has been really busy. We agreed to wait until after the expansion is complete to
start making plans for the wedding. Of course, Adam’s family joined forces to pressure us to set
a date when we visited last month. Adam explained why we wanted to wait, but he ended up
promising that the two of us would give it some serious thought.”
“And have you? Given it some thought.”
“Not really. The expansion to the academy should be wrapped up by next spring, and we
kicked around the idea of a summer wedding at the estate. Perhaps in July or even August, since
school would be out for the summer and the boys would have gone home, leaving lots of empty
dorm rooms for out-of-town guests. I think, however, that we’re both worried that it will be too
hectic to try to plan a summer wedding when the expansion isn’t scheduled to be complete until
late May.”
“It is true that there are often delays that could push your completion date back a bit.”

“Adam and I talked about that. And then there’s also the fact that with the completion of the
expansion, Adam plans to double the number of scholarship students for the upcoming year, and
he’ll need to hire new staff to meet the needs created by the expansion. It’s a lot.”
“I like the idea of a summer wedding, but it does sound like you may want to wait until the
summer following next summer.”
“I think that may be where we’re heading. I know that Adam’s family will want to make the
trip from England, and my family will want to make the trip from Italy, so we really should
decide on a date and give everyone plenty of notice.”
Hope reached over and placed a hand on mine. “It’s your wedding. It should be something
you look forward to with joy and not dread. Take the time you need to do it your way.”
I smiled at my friend. “Thanks. We will. Adam and I are actually pretty content with the
direction we’re heading, and we both feel that taking things one step at a time and doing things at
our own pace is going to be key if we want to avoid the chaos that a lot of couples experience
when planning their wedding.”
Hope told me a short story about a friend of hers who ended up breaking things off with her
fiancé after the stress of planning such a huge event caused a mental breakdown of sorts.
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
Hope shrugged. “I never thought the match had what it took to go the distance.” Hope
reached into her huge shoulder bag and pulled out a wooden box about six inches long and
nearly the same width. “Speaking of relationships that go the distance, I found this box during
the remodel. I decided to bring it along today in the hope that I’d have an opening to talk to you
about it, assuming that things didn’t go south during our discussion about the Victorian
Christmas.”
Hope passed me the box. I opened the lid, which was latched with a delicate gold
mechanism. The box contained photos, a charm bracelet, and other mementos, such as a ticket
stub from the old theater that had been torn down a few years ago, a carnival wristband, a game
token, and a coupon for a free ice cream cone.
“You found the box during the remodel?” I asked. “Where?”
“It was sealed in one of the walls that came down when we tore down two of the guest rooms
to expand the dining room. I actually found the box a couple of months ago, and thought about
bringing it to you then, but you were really busy getting ready to go to England, so I decided to
wait.”
“Any idea who the box belonged to or how it came to be sealed into the wall?”
“No idea at all, but I am interested. I hoped you might be willing to help me track down the
owner.”
I picked up the ticket stub. It was dated July seventh, nineteen eighty-eight. “It appears the
box was sealed in the wall at some point after July seventh, nineteen eighty-eight, although I
guess that still leaves us with a lot of years to consider. When exactly did you buy the inn?”
“The summer of two thousand fourteen. I used the money I’d inherited from my grandmother
to purchase the property from Ruth and Xavier Davis, a nice older couple who were ready to

retire after having run the inn for thirty years. Ruth and Xavier bought the property in nineteen
eighty-four, so the box must have been put in the wall when they owned it.”
“Did Ruth and Xavier have children?”
“No, but I do remember that Ruth’s sister had children who stayed with their aunt and uncle
during the summer.”
“Do you know who owned the inn before Ruth and Xavier?”
“Rose and Harvey Woodstone. I believe the Rosewood Inn may have been named for Rose.
Both are deceased now. Xavier has likewise passed on since he sold me the property. Ruth is
alive and living with one of her nieces in Rockland.”
I picked up a photo of a young woman who looked to be in her teens, sitting on a bench that
overlooked the bay. If this was the individual who put the mementos in a box together and then
hid them in a wall, then I figure she must be in her fifties by this point. I set the photo back into
the box and picked up the charm bracelet. One of my very first cases after opening Ainsley
Holloway Investigations involved tracking down a woman using only clues provided by a similar
charm bracelet.
“So what do you think?” Hope asked. “Do you want to help me solve the mystery of the box
in the wall?”
I hesitated briefly and then responded. “Are you on any sort of timeline?”
“Not at all. I figure that since the box has been in the wall for decades, a few more months
won’t matter.”
“Okay,” I said, coming to a decision. “If I can take this box with me, I’ll have a look and then
see what I can figure out. I probably won’t have time to even look at it until after the weekend,
but I should have some time next week.”
Hope offered me a soft smile. “Okay. When you’re ready to talk about it some more, we’ll
plan another lunch.” She looked at her watch. “In the meantime, I need to convince Yolanda
Perkins that she would love nothing more than to organize the high school volunteers for the
haunted house next month.”
I’d helped with the high schoolers in the past, and I had to say I was glad that managing the
group again this year wasn’t the favor Hope had asked of me. While I’d actually enjoyed
working with most of the kids, there had been a few troublemakers who had seemed to put a lot
of effort into ruining it for everyone. ...