I reached for my phone, deciding to let Pauline know I’d be late and that I’d taken a wrong turn on Berkshire. That way, if I didn’t show up, the police would know where to start the search.
My overactive imagination took me to the notion that Gregory, my coworker who was sure he’d had the vice president position on lock, might have set up this elaborate scheme to get rid of me. I laughed at the rather dark idea, not because Greg wouldn’t sink so low but because he had never shown himself to be a creative thinker. And this elaborate scheme would require a lot of creativity and thinking . . . and some knowledge of weather science.
Sudden unexpected brightness coaxed me to lift my arm and shade my eyes. Headlights or a large flood lamp, I decided. At least I was reaching some kind of life form or glimmer of civilization. The light mellowed, obviously being muted by the pea soup fog.
I put my phone down, deciding I would be at the restaurant in plenty of time. I was sure they all needed a chance to debrief and talk about my promotion and new position before I got there. Then I was heading straight to the bar. The tablespoon of wine with Cara was still a few good apple martinis away from a proper buzz.
I reached the end of the alley. As my car left the shadows of the buildings, a dense fog still danced around it. I put on my windshield wipers in a desperate attempt to see what was in front of me. I no longer had any sense of direction. I had no idea where I was. My only chance was to retrace my steps, or, in this case, my tire marks and head back through the alley. I made a sharp left, hoping that no one was coming at me.
My tires screeched as my foot slammed the brakes. I stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of me. In the midst of the nearly impenetrable cloud of fog was a clearing, a perfectly scooped out hole of clear night air. And, at the center of it all, stood a gothic looking, dilapidated mansion.
I patted the console, the dashboard and the steering wheel of the car to make sure they were real. It was entirely possible that this whole day had just been a dream, and I was still tucked in my cozy bed waiting for the clock radio to wake me. I laughed and relaxed back. That was it. I was still asleep. No wonder I’d gotten the V.P. position. It was all just in my head. I’d just sit still and wait for Hank and Heidi’s morning show to pull me out of the weird dream.
But it wasn’t the morning talk show that zapped me to attention. It was the mouth watering smell of baked goods. Cake, to be exact. Red velvet cake to be even more exact, if there was such a thing as being more than exact.
Unless I was dreaming in sensory Technicolor, my nose and my taste buds were letting me know that I was definitely awake. All of it was impossible, and yet, the house was sitting there on its own luminous hillside.
I glanced around. My car was still being swallowed up by the creepy fog. I pushed down the gas pedal and headed toward the house. It was the only thing visible through my condensation smeared windows.
As if a switch had been shut off on a fog machine, the night air cleared. Two massive, yellow lamps flickered gold at the top of a long, winding driveway beckoning me forward. My only other choice was to navigate my way back through the horror movie style fog I’d left behind. At least this direction promised visibility and the prospect of a fresh baked good. After my terrible lunch, my stomach was protesting loudly with hunger.
As my car rolled up the driveway, I came upon a red wooden sign with black and white block letters. I squinted into the dark to read it. ‘Welcome to the Silk Stocking Inn.’ Again my foot smacked down hard on the brakes. “It can’t be. There’s just no way.” Another sign, a chalkboard style panel with letters scrawled in pink chalk stood two feet ahead. I cautiously moved my foot to the gas and rolled forward. ‘Baker’s special today—red velvet cupcakes’.
I put my foot down harder. “All right, this has gone far enough. It was entertaining on the computer, but now it is just downright creepy. And it has me talking to myself, which is probably getting caught on some secret camera to eventually be posted on YouTube. Then someone will use it to blackmail me, and I’ll lose my job. So stop talking to yourself, Jessi, and get to the bottom of this.”
Chapter Five
I drove, no longer with caution but with a damn purpose, toward the building. I stopped the car in front of the house and got out.
The ancient house glowered down at me from it puny hill like an old grouchy neighbor scowling down from his porch just daring me to cross his lawn. Every other baluster was missing from the porch railing, reminding me of a smile in bad need of a dentist. One lone turret stuck up from the center, and the two dormer windows had been stripped of their roof slats. What must have once been a lush growth of ivy clinging to the clapboard siding was now just a crisp brown tangle of dead vines that seemed to be clawing their way beneath the wood boards. The landscaping looked like something from an old scary movie, a black and white movie. The only pop of color came from the two stone statues that were iridescent with mold. A tall ladder leaned against the side of the house as if someone had been working on the roof. There was no sign of the roses that had adorned the house on the website.
The scent of cupcakes drew me up to the top step. It was an elaborate scheme to say the least. They were thorough, finding out my favorite flavor and then luring me up to the house with a hurricane of chocolate, cream cheese and buttery smells.
I knocked hard and the door opened. No one was behind it. I slid my top half inside. “Hello?” I called into the cavernous entryway. Pale yellow wallpaper dotted with blue violets covered all the walls. The wood floors gleamed. The inside was far more inviting than the facade and front yard. My earlier anger melted away as my mouth watered with the promise of a cupcake.
“Come on in. I’ve just finished frosting a new batch,” a woman’s almost lyrical sounding voice floated into the entryway. I hesitated but then reminded myself that I was there to get to the bottom of this farce. Plus, I was really craving one of those darn cupcakes. The aroma was so rich and sweet, I could nearly taste it.
I headed in the direction of the voice and scent. I walked down a narrow hallway that was lined with oil paintings. I ended up in a giant parlor room that had been converted into a stylish bakery, like one you’d find in the middle of a hip urban neighborhood.
“That fog is something else, isn’t it?” A woman wearing a paisley print head scarf and a floral print dress covered mostly by a white apron, walked into the room with a silver platter of cupcakes. Each one was topped with a swirl of white frosting and a red candy heart.
On first glance, as the woman had stepped into the warm glowing lights of the bakery, she looked quite old, slightly hunched with a respectable amount of wrinkles. She lowered the platter onto the counter and straightened. It took me a second to find my voice. The woman wasn’t old at all. Sparkling green eyes looked out from a smooth olive complexion. And there was something familiar in her expression, as if she was an old friend instead of a stranger.
The woman lifted a plump little cake in her hand and beamed up at it with pride. “I think these may be my best yet. I’m sure the customers will buy them up quickly, so you better give this one a taste.” She held it out to me with a smile that was impossible to say no to, especially because of the delicious cupcake in front of it. “I’m Coco, by the way. I’ve been expecting you. Was there much traffic?”
I looked behind me and glanced at the empty shop. Round metal tables had been decorated with pink rose tablecloths and real flowers to match. Antique metal chairs were pushed up to the tables. Unless her customers were invisible, we were completely alone.
“Jessica, right?”
I swung back around. She held the cupcake out farther. I was just light headed enough from low blood sugar and complete confusion to take it from her.
“How do you know my name?”
She walked over to a small refrigerator and pulled out a cold carton of milk, like the kind we had with school lunches. Just seeing the carton and the little straw that went with it, drummed up a warm sense of nostalgia.
It was, of course, impossible, but Coco seemed to sense what I was thinking. “I think sometimes we all long for those carefree days of jungle gyms, slumber parties and after school dances.”
I smiled and unwrapped the cupcake. I lifted it in a toast. “To the good old days of braces, zits and training bras.”
Her laugh bounced around the room. For a moment, I was sure some of the age lines I’d seen as she walked out reappeared around her mouth. I shook off the idea the second I took a bite of the amazing cupcake.
“Oh my gosh, this is heaven in a paper wrapper. No wonder you think the customers will buy them up fast. By the way, where are the customers? And, another thing, how the heck did I end up here? Actually, there are a few dozen questions after that, but first, let me take another bite.” The cake was so moist it nearly melted in my mouth. I washed it down with the ice cold milk. I swallowed and looked expectantly at her for answers.
“There’s one easy explanation for it all,” she quipped as she put the cakes on little doilies.
I raised a brow. “I doubt that.” I took another bite.
“Your heart led you here. And, from the way you’re devouring that cupcake, your sweet tooth had a hand in it too.” With that simple and puzzling answer, she wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ve got to get the next batch of cupcakes frosted. Go ahead and take a few more up to your room. I’ve got a hot bath drawn for you, and I’ll make sure a fire is started in the hearth. It will get chilly tonight. The bones of this old place just aren’t as good as they used to be. You might have noticed some tools and a few ladders when you walked up. Grayson is doing some work for me.”