Murder in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery by Meg Muldoon Page A

where his people were from. They still kept the house here, though, and occasionally, his dad would come back in town during the summer to go fishing. Three years ago, Walter Brightman’s obituary ran in the Christmas River Times. I heard there was a memorial for him here for some of his friends, but that he was buried back east.
    “Well, I haven’t gotten a chance to take care of things here… you know, the house and everything. So I figured now was as good a time as any.”
    “How long are you here for?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “As long as it takes, I guess.”
    I was just about to ask Daniel where he’d been living and what he did now, when I saw John stand up and pull his beanie on.
    He came over to us, walking up with a strange, aggressive gait.
    “You let me know about tonight, Cinnamon,” he said in an irritated tone, talking over Daniel. “Come over to the practice around 5 o’clock. Maybe we could do dinner first.”
    I nodded, and he walked away quickly and, I sensed, a little angrily.
    We watched him open the door, walk out, and let the wind slam the door behind him. A cold gust ran through the dining room.
    Daniel looked back at me.
    “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he said.
    I shook my head.
    “No,” I said. “It was nothing. So you don’t know how long you’re staying?”
    “Through the holidays at least,” he said. “But we’ll see then. See where the road takes me.”
    “Do you have a job to go back to?” I asked.
    The door jingled, and an army of old ladies with shopping bags suddenly entered the shop.
    I sighed. I really wanted to talk more with him. I wanted to find out what he did, where he’d been all these years, and what he planned to do now that he was back here.
    But I knew that the army of old ladies were going to squash any hope of catching up with Daniel Brightman.
    He must of seen my exasperated expression.
    He smiled at me. A warm smile that sent chills up my spine.
    “Perils of the pie business,” he said, nodding to the ladies behind him.
    “Listen,” he said, leaning across the counter. “I’d really like to repay you for your kindness last night. I probably would be face down in the snow right about now if you hadn’t rescued me. What about a drink tonight?”
    My heart beat hard in my chest.
    “That is, if you’ve forgiven me.”
    “Ma’am, does this blueberry pie have nutmeg in it too? Or just Cinnamon?” one of the old ladies said in a raised voice, pointing at the glass case.
    I looked back at Daniel, who was running a hand through his dark hair, waiting for me to answer.
    “No. It’ll be a long while before I forgive you, Daniel Brightman.” I said.
    His face fell a little bit and part of me enjoyed the moment. It was a little taste of his own medicine, but I didn’t let it last too long.
    “But… I’ll let you make it up to me.”
    It only took me 1.2 seconds to decide that I was going to say yes to his offer.
    No hesitation at all. No doubt. Nothing.
    He tapped his cowboy hat on the counter and grinned.
    “You’re a kind woman,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at five?”
    “Make it five thirty,” I said.
    “Ma’am?” the old woman said. “Can you give me an answer?”
    Daniel winked at me, put on his hat, and walked out the front door.
    And left me with the old women to tend to.
    But I didn’t mind them. I didn’t even mind them calling me “Ma’am.”
     

Chapter 14
     
    John had left the majority of his strawberry rhubarb pie on the plate.
    I felt a little guilty about the way Daniel had waltzed in here and stolen the show. I recognized that John had probably spent all year building up his courage, trying to work out a way to ask me out. He had finally found a moment when we were alone, and an innocuous way to spend time with me and ask me, and it had all been dashed.
    I felt bad, but at the same time, I hadn’t liked that tone he’d taken with me. Telling me to be there at his practice at five when I