“What is it?”
Not what. Who.
Margaret Sandringham entered the shop like a modern-day Cruella de Vil. Except she wasn’t wearing a costume. Perhaps that was uncharitable, but with the dark sunglasses, red lipstick, and hair pulled severely from her face accentuating her high cheekbones, Dexter’s mother looked cartoonishly out of place amongst the revelers dressed as pumpkins, pirates, and princesses.
“Mom. What are you doing here?”
“I told you I wanted to visit, see where you live and…work.” She slipped her sunglasses off and arched a perfect brow, sweeping a critical eye around the bustling store. “Is that all right?”
“Yes,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation, removing his Dracula teeth and adding, “Of course. I’m just…surprised. It’s Halloween, Mom.”
“Is it? Well, don’t fuss. I’m not staying long. I was hoping to catch you for an hour. Maxwell came with me…thank goodness. The roads are rather primitive here, aren’t they?”
“I—who’s Maxwell?” he asked.
“My chauffeur.” Margaret pivoted, disarming me with a sharklike smile, an indication that she definitely remembered our previous encounter in Michigan. “Hello, again. Viggo, am I correct?”
I offered my hand. “Welcome to Wood Hollow.”
“Thank you.” Her gold bangles jingled noisily as she fitted her palm to mine. “It’s good to see you.”
“Is it?”
Margaret’s lips twisted with humor. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“Mom—”
“I want to talk to you, Dexter. Alone. I’m sure you understand, Viggo.” She nodded blandly, her gaze fixed on her son.
Dexter exhaled, pushing his cape over his right shoulder. “You should have called.”
“I did. I spoke to a lovely young man named Houston who told me you’d be in your store most of the day.”
“You mean Dallas?”
“What difference does it make? I’m here now,” she replied impatiently. The “I’m not going anywhere until I have what I want” was unspoken but very much implied.
“Right. Okay, well…this is my shop, Dexter’s Donuts.” He spread his arm, gesturing to the gleaming marble countertops, the neatly arranged display cases filled with an assortment of treats, and the line of loyal patrons. “If you’d like, I can show you the kitchen and um…my SUV is out front. I’ll take you to my house, too. It’s close to the lake and there’s a nice view and…”
“Wonderful. I’ll follow you.”
Dex motioned for her to move ahead of him, turning to me at the last second with a WTF expression. I shrugged and pulled my cell out, indicating that he should text or call if he needed me to run interference. He blinked—message received.
I finished my coffee and tossed it into the bin next to the counter where Janey was chatting with Cooper’s aunt and uncle, a couple of proud hippies who’d set aside their usual tie-dyed and peace sweatshirts to dress for the holiday.
“We’re Sonny and Cher,” Aunt Rhona said in greeting. “Where’s your costume?”
“Now, Rhona. Not everyone embraces ghoulish holidays,” her husband Harry reminded her, seemingly unbothered by the shaggy clump of a wig atop his head or his vertically striped bell-bottoms. The man looked positively ridiculous.
I nodded, unsure what to add. “Well…have fun.”
“Oh, we will.” Rhona winked, hooking her arm through her husband’s and dragging him to the exit.
“They’re a hoot.” Janey chuckled lightly, then tilted her chin meaningfully. “Who’s that with Dex?”
“His mother.”
Janey gasped. “His mother! Oh, wow. He didn’t mention that she was coming today.”
