Manic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 6) by Meg Muldoon Page B

when he talked about Geronimo was thanks enough for me. Besides, I hadn’t put in that much time helping them out – just a couple hours when I could spare it to help move furniture or paint the walls. My biggest contribution was set for tomorrow, when I was going to help waitress the grand opening.
    “Well, nonetheless, you’ve helped a great deal,” she said. “And I know you’re the kind of person who wouldn’t say if we were taking up too much of your time.”
    “Aileen, it’s not a big dea—”
    “Well, I was thinking,” she said, situating herself a little closer to me. “I know you’ve been short-handed at the pie shop lately. And I was wondering if you could use a little extra help, what with the Independence Day tomorrow.”
    I smiled at the way she put a “the” in front of Independence Day.
    “Well, to be honest, I could use a little extra help,” I said. “Things have been crazy at the pie shop lately. And I’ve been dragging my feet on hiring new employees.”
    I shuddered silently, thinking about all those zombies that would be waiting outside the door tomorrow morning.
    “Well, I’ve got a solution to that,” she said, glancing back at her grandson. “Ian here would be free to work in the morning. Mind you, he hasn’t ever worked in a pastry shop before. But he does have some experience. He was an assistant at a bakery for several months in Glasgow. And he’s a very hard worker when he puts his mind to it.”
    I found myself surprised by the offer. And by the revelation that Ian had worked in a bakery. He had never mentioned it.
    “That’s very kind,” I said. “But I’m sure Ian’s got better things to do than to work in a hot kitchen all morning. He’s on vacation, isn’t he? Thank you, though, for the offer. I really do appreciate it.”  
    She placed a hand on my arm.
    “No, we mean it, Cinnamon. It’d be good for Ian. And besides, he’d be really grateful for the opportunity. Wouldn’t you, lad?”
    She glanced back at him, and I followed her stare, feeling slightly awkward about the whole thing.
    Ian’s cheeks turned red, and he had trouble meeting my eyes again.
    “Sure,” he said in such a low, quiet voice that at first, I didn’t hear him.
    “Strike two!”
    Billy had swung and missed a second time.
    “You don’t have to,” I said to him. “Working in a pie shop isn’t exactly how I’d spend a vacation.” 
    “He’d love to,” Aileen interjected before Ian could say anything.
    Ian nodded in agreement.
    “Well, that’s very kind of you,” I finally said.
    I still wasn’t quite comfortable with the notion, but if Ian wasn’t going to fight his grandmother on it, than neither was I.
    “What time should he be there tomorrow morning?”
    I shrugged.
    “Eight would be fine,” I said.
    “Eight it is then,” she said, glancing back at her grandson.
    He didn’t say anything.
    “Strike Three!”
    “Oh, for the love of Kris Kringle, Harold!” Warren shouted, shooting up from his seat, pieces of honey roasted peanuts flying out of his mouth. “What kind of call was that!? If I didn’t know better, I’d—”
    But the old man stopped mid-sentence, noticing Aileen staring at him with an amused, if not somewhat exasperated, expression on her face.
    He glanced at her and smiled a giant, charming smile, then sat back down abruptly.
    “Well, I suppose he’s just doing the best he can,” he mumbled.
    She leaned over and kissed him on his wrinkled cheek.
     

 
    Chapter 13
     
    Lou Ulrich, the rotund, peach-shaped Christmas River police captain, scraped the dirt around home plate with the bottom of his cleats like a bull that just caught sight of a firetruck.
    “You ready for this, Brightman?” Lou chided, checking his swing. “Because there’s still time to pull out if you wanna. What was it Clint Eastwood said to that bounty hunter in The Outlaw Josey Wales ? ‘You know, this isn’t necessary. You could just ride off.’”
    The guys in the