Herr Georg’s innuendo was not lost on Candy, but she knew his insinuations were harmless and usually didn’t let them bother her. In fact, at times she even thought them charming in an Old European sort of way.
“Ray and I just had some pie,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Oh, but you must try this,” the baker coaxed, tapping the box with a well-manicured finger. “It’s quite decadent.” The way he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to entice her, reminded her of Groucho Marx.
“Herr Georg, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to fatten me up.”
“I promise you, it will be worth your while.”
Candy grinned. “Promise?”
“Of course!” said the baker heartily.
“Then how could I possibly refuse?” Her gaze shifted. She nodded at the handyman. “Ray’s been helping me out with the booth today, but we’re all finished. Right?”
Ray seemed to finally get the hint. He let out a breath of resignation through his nose as his whole body slouched. “Um, yeah. Yeah, we are.” Forlornly he tossed the toolbox into the back of his truck, climbed into the cab, and drove off with a halfhearted wave.
“Nice fellow,” Herr Georg observed as Ray’s truck disappeared down the lane. “A bit slow but friendly enough. I’m having him over to the shop on Monday to put up some shelves.”
“Oh, Ray’s great,” Candy agreed as she watched the truck drive away. Then she turned and took the baker by the arm, steering him toward the house. “So, tell me, what have you got in the box?”
“Oh, well, as I said, it’s quite special. It’s a German pastry called a linzerschnitten.”
Inside the kitchen, he dramatically opened the box and let her smell the aroma first, then with a flair lifted out a plate that held the layered torte pastry.
“It looks delicious,” Candy said. “What’s in it?”
“Three thin layers of spicy dough made with ground almonds, hazelnuts, cinnamon, and lemon zest. There’s a delightful buttercream between each layer. And on top, a layer of almond paste, followed by a layer of fresh blueberries, topped with a crosshatch of dough, all delicately baked to a crispy brown. In Germany, raspberries, apricots, or cranberries are usually used for the fruit topping, but of course blueberries are a must here.”
“Of course.” Candy nudged the still-warm, golden brown crosshatching with her pinky. “Herr Georg, no one makes pastries as flaky as yours.”
He grinned at the compliment, showing off the gap between his two front teeth. “Would you like a bite?”
“More than one, I hope. I’ll put on the tea.”
Herr Georg’s linzerschnitten was like nothing Candy had ever tasted before, but she’d come to expect only the best from him. They ate two small pieces each, washing them down with cinnamon-orange tea. Herr Georg left the rest for Doc and Candy to enjoy as dessert that evening.
The baker carefully surveyed Candy’s preparations for the festival, pronouncing her pies and scones among the best looking he had ever seen. Then, late in the warm afternoon, she walked him out to his car.
“I’ve made several batches of inzerschnitten for sale at the festival tomorrow,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Guess I’d better bring along my checkbook then.”
“Ah, Candy, meine liebchen, your money is no good with me. You know that.” He winked at her as he started the car. “I’ll save one for you.”
After he drove off, Candy walked back into the kitchen and began to pack up the baked goods and gifts for the festival in the morning.
Doc called just before dinnertime. “Sorry I’m late, pumpkin, but I got sidetracked. I stopped in at the diner to check the news about Jock, and it looks like something’s up. Rumor is they’ve found some incriminating evidence at the scene, but we don’t know what yet. Finn’s checking it out now, so I thought I’d hang around in case he needs any backup. I probably won’t be home for dinner. You want to join me here?”
She was tempted but, in the end, decided she still had too much to do. “What about the festival and the booth? We still have to load up the truck.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it when I get back. We’ll do Chinese another night, okay?”
Candy couldn’t help feeling disappointed as she hung up. “Another Friday night alone,” she muttered to herself as she dropped into a chair, surrounded by silence.
On an impulse she called Maggie, just to find someone to talk to, but all she got was an answering machine.
She hung up without leaving a message.
In a moment of weakness she thought of calling Ray but quickly decided that was crazy.
“Well, guess it’s time to get back to work,” she said as she rose. And then she spotted Herr Georg’s linzerschnitten sitting on the counter where he had left it.
She finished off the whole thing right then and there, washed down with half a bottle of white wine.
Doc would just have to find his own damned dessert.
SIX
By seven thirty the following morning Candy and Doc had set up their booth on Cape Willington ’s Main Street, which was blocked off to traffic for the festival. They had a prime spot-at the northeast end of the street in front of McGuire’s Travel Agency, just across from Duffy’s Main Street Diner-so they’d get plenty of foot traffic all day.
By eight o’clock Candy had set out her items for sale, all arranged neatly on the booth’s display counter, which she’d covered with a blueberry tablecloth she’d bought at the L.L.Bean store in Freeport.
She attached the banner she’d made to the tops of the front posts and wove blue and white crepe paper streamers around the posts to add some color. Finally, she hung gift baskets from hooks in the crossbeams above her head. The baskets swayed gently in the sea breeze that always seemed to be coming in from the ocean.
When she was done, she stepped out into the street to have a look at it all. She was pleased with what she saw. This was her third year selling homemade items at the festival but her first time with a booth; the last two years she had gone the novice route, setting up a card table near the park. This year she’d decided to put a professional spin on the blueberry-selling business, purchasing booth space along Main Street and significantly increasing the variety of items she offered.
Now all she had to do was sell it all, and she’d provide a much-needed boost to the Holliday household finances.
By eight thirty the crowds began to arrive, and by nine the streets of Cape Willington were swarming with festival-goers. Events had kicked off at seven thirty that morning with a pancake breakfast at the American Legion Hall. The Fun Run at eight thirty was followed by 5K and 15K races. The flea market at the First Congregational Church was about to open, a pet parade was scheduled for noon, a local folk band would start playing in Town Park at one, a blueberry pie-eating contest would take place at three, and other events would follow throughout the afternoon.
Things would really get rolling with the Blueberry Festival Parade at five. Featuring the Blueberry Queen contestants, it would wind its way around the Coastal Loop and end up at the Pruitt Opera House, where the Blueberry Queen would be crowned after a pageant that started at six. The day would culminate with a dance at the Cape Willington Community Center at eight, presided over by the Blueberry Queen and her court.
There was no doubt about it-it was going to be a long but fun, and most certainly fruitful, day.
The weather cooperated nicely. A bright late July sun rose through a nearly cloudless sky. The heat and humidity of the previous day had broken overnight. Today was cooler and crisper, a perfect festival day.
Still, by midmorning the temperature had risen into the seventies and threatened to approach eighty. Main Street was well shaded, so Candy didn’t have to worry too much about her chocolate-covered blueberries melting in the heat, although she did keep the bulk of them in coolers she had brought along to prevent just that. With any luck, she’d have them all sold by noon.