The Missing Dough(2)

“Of course I do,” she replied. “Grant is up to something, and I doubt that it’s because he is in Timber Ridge to win back my heart. There’s only one way to find out, though. I’m calling Sharon.”

“Do you really think your former mother-in-law will tell you what her son is up to?” I asked as my sister got out her cell phone.

“Are you kidding? Sharon was hoping to lose him in the divorce instead of me.” Maddy listened to her phone for a minute and then hung up. “I got her machine; she’s not there. I’ll try again later. In the meantime, what say we put this behind us and get ready for our first customer?”

“Aren’t you going to call Bob and tell him what just happened?” I asked. Bob Lemon was a local attorney and, more importantly, Maddy’s fiancé. “I’ve got a hunch he might like to know that someone is trying to woo his betrothed.”

Maddy glanced at her watch. “Bob knows all about Grant, so there’s no way he’ll be threatened by anything my ex has to say to me. Besides, he’s in court right now. I’ll tell him this evening at the festival. I’m glad we’re closing the pizzeria at six so we can go this year, too.”

“Hey, we only have a Founders Day Festival once a year,” I said. “Besides, with all of the street vendors peddling their specialties, it’s not like we’d sell much pizza anyway. It was one of Joe’s favorite things about this place, you know.”

“Oh, you don’t have to remind me. I remember that crazy woodsman’s costume he wore one year. I thought Grizzly Adams had come to town.”

“My dear husband had a unique sense of humor, didn’t he?” I asked.

Maddy nodded and then stared at me for a few seconds before she spoke again. “You know, you aren’t nearly as sad as you used to be when you talk about him these days, Eleanor. Is it because David Quinton’s in your life?”

I thought about it and then admitted, “You’re probably right. Joe’s been gone awhile now, and I’m doing my best to let go of the pain of losing him and focus more on the wonderful life we had together. I admit that David has helped me do it.”

“By being in your life?” Maddy asked.

“Sure, that’s true in and of itself, but my boyfriend loves to hear stories about Joe, and some of the stunts he used to pull. I swear, I believe that the two of them would have been great friends if they’d ever had a chance to meet.”

“Well, they do have something in common,” Maddy said. “They both managed to fall for you.”

“And you can’t argue with good taste, can you?” I asked her with a smile.

At that moment, four older fellows came into the Slice together. To my knowledge, they’d never been in my pizzeria before, and judging by the way they looked around, it was a pretty sure bet. They weren’t exactly in their element.

As Maddy seated them, I asked, “What brings you gentlemen here on this fine and beautiful day?”

“They shut down the Liar’s Table at Mickey’s in Bower,” one of them said, clearly more than a little disgruntled by the fact. “We’re trying new places this week, until they’re finished remodeling.”

“Did you just say Liar’s Table?” Maddy asked. “What exactly does that mean?”

One of the men grinned at her as he ran a hand through his full head of silver hair. “It’s a time-honored name reserved for a group of regulars who tend to exaggerate their stories just a touch to make them a tad more vivid to the listener.”

“Exaggerate?” a shiny-domed companion asked. “That’s just about the nicest way of being called a liar I’ve heard yet.”

“Give me time, Jed. I’ll see what else I can come up with,” his friend replied.

“Don’t encourage him,” a third man said. As Maddy offered them all menus, he held his hand up and said, “Don’t worry about those; we know what we want. If this place is anything like the one I used to go to back when I had a full head of hair, give us a large kitchen-sink pizza and four sodas.”

“When did you start ordering for us, Henry?” one of the other men asked.

“Forget that,” Jed said. “I want to know how you can remember as far back as when you actually had hair.”

“Yeah. I resent the implication that I can’t make up my own mind,” the heretofore silent one chimed in.

Henry looked at them each in turn and then said, “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. So, what kind of pizza would you three like?”

They mulled it over and finally decided that Henry had been right all along. After they placed their order, I went back into the kitchen to prepare it. Maddy and I liked fully loaded pizzas ourselves, using every topping we could get our hands on, so I could make one in my sleep. As it made its way through the conveyor oven we used, I had to wonder about Grant’s earlier visit to the Slice. Was he really there to get back in my sister’s life, or was there something more ominous behind his sudden appearance? I had to believe the latter, but only time would tell. I just hoped that he’d been bluffing when he said that he wasn’t going to give up easily.