It was also the way Minnie smiled at her, all knives and sharp things, masked by honey and sweetness. Belle had no idea what she’d done to offend these women so quickly. They didn’t even know her.

  It was Xavier who stepped aside with a sweeping arm flourish. “This is Belle Baron, who runs the most astounding coffee shop in Everly. If you haven’t been there, put it on the top of your to-do list.

  “Yes,” June said. “Welcome. We were surprised you didn’t come to previous meetings. Glad you could make this one.”

  I would have if someone had notified me of the meetings. Belle smiled.

  “Welcome,” Alice said. “We still miss Eliza a great deal.”

  I do, too. More than you’ll ever know. Belle smiled and smiled.

  “Yes, glad you could make it.” Minnie smiled, one of sugar and spring meadows but laced with lightning. “We needed someone willing to work.”

  “What a great idea, Minnie.” Forsythia turned to Belle. “You can be in charge of the welcome breakfast for Xavier and his team. Since you run such an astonishing shop. It’s right up your alley. It’s in two days.”

  Oh, yes, wonderful, please. Throw all the hardest tasks at the newest member. Belle smiled and smiled until her cheeks ached.

  The women finished nodding, murmuring welcome, then Forsythia took over the meeting. She offered Xavier a comfy armchair. Belle remained standing. She didn’t mind, not really.

  “Now, the murder mystery.” Forsythia held up her hands, like a famous director framing a shoot. “It will be called Murder at the Magic Show. It will include a performance by Xavier.” She added, “Minnie and I wrote the script together. It will be amazing. Attendees will experience two shows in one.”

  “Do tell,” Xavier said. “Who is murdered?”

  Forsythia tsked. “That is a secret. No one can know. You will all receive parts to play, with a character that comes with a script. The conversations you should have, statements that should be made to whom and when. In fact, the scripts have already been sent to those who signed up.”

  “How many are attending?” Belle asked.

  After a self-righteous glare, Forsythia said, “About twenty.”

  “Yes.” June beamed. “That’s at two hundred dollars a ticket, so we’ve raised four thousand dollars for the scholarship fund. An amazing number.”

  “All thanks to Xavier the Astonishing,” Forsythia gushed.

  “Did you allow a way for some of the less privileged families in town,” Belle asked, “families that will eventually want scholarships, a way for them to enjoy the show?”

  There was a silence that might have made Belle uncomfortable, but after the words Xavier had spoken to her outside, the way he boosted her up, made her feel worthy to be seen, she refused to be a withering wallflower.

  “I realize this is a fundraiser,” Belle said. “But maybe there could be a free magic show for kids in town at the local library. Perhaps the library would pay and Xavier could offer a discount.”

  “Wonderful idea,” Xavier announced. “I love it.”

  Forsythia, in a frothy way, said, “Great idea. Belle, why don’t you follow through with that and set it up. Hang the flyers.”

  Sure, no problem. How did Aunt Eliza suffer through these meetings? The condescension was unbearable, or maybe Belle just wasn’t used to it, but she knew the type.

  “Of course,” Xavier said, with more force. “I’ll need to look over the script and approve all my appearances.”

  Minnie spoke up. “I can send you the document through email if you’d like.”

  Xavier pulled a card from the depths of his purple velvet coat. “It’s the contact for Samantha. Thank you.” A phone buzzed. Xavier pulled the phone from the same inside pocket. “I need to take this. Then I’ll get settled in my room. I’ll leave you lovely ladies to work out all the details. When Samantha arrives, please review with her where the stage will go, and block out the different scenes with her. She’ll know what needs to change.” Then, with his usual flourish that Belle was getting used to, he left the room.

  She paid attention to the details, to all the little tasks that needed to be done. There were tips from Forsythia on how to keep the conversation flowing through the course of the murder mystery event, in case it stalled or someone failed to play their part. Before they were about to walk through the house, Belle said, “Will I have a part or is too late?”

  “Oh yes, an important part. Sadly, it is too late to be a character, but we’ll need help refreshing the food table, that sort of thing.”

  “Maybe,” Minnie said, “she could be a filler. She can be a member of the audience to the magic show.”

  “Of course, Minnie.”

  The women followed Forsythia to the next room, out to the backyard where the stage would be.

  Belle didn’t follow, especially when she heard the hissing of an angry voice. She followed that instead, curious. The spitting voice led her to the front door where Xavier stood, back to her, the phone to his ear.

  “Stop following me.” His voice spiky, spiraling with fury and threats. “Or else.”

  Then he left the house in a huff, striding with large, almost impossibly long steps, muttering to himself.

  Belle watched from the window. That man was more and more of a mystery; he had many sides, almost like a magic trick or an illusion. Depending through which lens you looked, you would see a different side to Xavier the Astonishing.

  Chapter Three

  The next day, Belle hurried down the main hall of the elementary school. She enjoyed the regular tutoring sessions with Lexie to keep her on track with her schoolwork. More important than math problems or long division, Belle knew the girl just needed a friend, someone to listen to her. Someone to make sure she’s on track when she’s in school but not really listening.

  That was something Belle understood. After losing her parents, the next few years were a blur, some kind of murky middle that she eventually made it through to the other side. Of course, the sadness remained, lurking in corners, ready to come out after a particularly hard time, or on holidays. Grief never truly goes away, but it does loosen its grip with time.

  Belle wanted to help Lexie through that time.

  Almost to the door of her classroom, Belle heard Minnie Kratz talking, but she could tell it wasn’t to a child. It wasn’t her teaching voice. Not wanting to eavesdrop but unsure she should walk in and interrupt the intense conversation, Belle waited outside the door.

  Minnie sounded like she was grasping the last threads of patience. “Ms. Wells, Samantha, if I may, what he is asking for is way beyond what would be considered normal for an event like this.”

  Samantha? Belle figured she should walk away but curiosity kept her in place. Xavier said he would send his staff to hammer out the details.

  “This is extremely important to all of us. We always make security a top priority during our shows,” Minnie stated matter-of-factly, like this was a brick wall and nothing would knock it down.

  “The grounds need a security sweep before, and during, the show.” Samantha wasn’t letting this go. “Points of entrance need to be manned. We’d like the fact there will be security to be advertised on the flyers.”

  Minnie scrambled, starting to talk a few times, then finally saying, “This is not what Forsythia worked out with Xavier during their initial conversation.”

  “Things change,” Samantha said, flat-toned, deadly serious.

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. I mean…I’ll take care of it. You also had concerns about the script?”

  Samantha, in her iron-like way of talking, pointed out several places in the script where they demanded changes. Belle listened to her voice. The image in her mind of Samantha, the way she was talking conflicted with the Samantha from the other day, the meek and mild woman who didn’t say a peep while in the shadow of her astonishing boss.

  “But…but all these changes practically eliminate Xavier from the murder mystery. He won’t be interacting with the people.”

  “He will interact, but he requires a six foot space between him and people at all times. He is there to perform, to be dramatic, to entertain. He will do all those things.”

  Belle thought about Xavier and the image he projected; he just happened to let down the mask with her. He protected. He cherished and nourished that image through social media and his shows. She supposed he could be germaphobic, or in general, didn’t like the throngs of people surrounding him. That could be it. Not that she could blame him.

  “Think of it this way,” Samantha said, impatience creeping into her voice. “Anything closer than six feet is stabbing distance. Someone could stab him.”

  “Well, you can’t mean…” Huffing and heavy breathing. “You can’t mean someone might kill him.”

  “Stabbing distance. A knife, a dagger, a sword, any sharp object. When it’s beyond six feet, he has time to react. There was a mishap in England—Well, I don’t want to get into it, but we have these rules for a reason.”

  Why would someone want to kill him? Belle imagined a long and sordid past. He was shaping up to be a complicated persona. Or he could be paranoid, reading into a person’s words. Misinterpreting actions or even the stars in the sky. What about his past makes him think his life is in danger? Did it have to do with the phone call the other day?

  Belle sensed Minnie’s close presence right before she spoke. “Can I help you?”

  Even though she only held a pencil, Belle envisioned it as some kind of medieval weapon—or maybe it was the look in her eyes, the scolding in her words.

  “Yes, I’m here for Lexie. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Lexie, Ms. Baron is here for you.”

  Belle stepped into the room. She smiled at Samantha, who returned it. The smile was real and soft. Nothing like the person she just heard talking. “Let’s go, Lexie.”

  They were at the door, when Lexie said, “You know, Uncle Lucas might be willing to provide security in exchange for two tickets to the show.”

  Minnie’s mouth opened before she controlled her reaction, her cheeks flushing. Embarrassed to realize Lexie had been listening, too, instead of involved with her book as she had probably been pretending to be. “Thank you for the suggestion, Lexie.”

  Belle hooked her arm through Lexie’s. “Come on. To The Beanery.”

  They sat huddled in the corner, mugs of hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, and the pastries that would just be discarded at closing. Officially, the shop was shut, so they could relax. Bixby stayed in the back, cleaning up and preparing for the next day.

  Belle’s mind, her thoughts, were still wrapped up in that strange conversation between Minnie Kratz and Samantha, but she tried her best to push it aside. “Why don’t we start by… Well, do you have a notebook where you list your assignments?”

  Lexie pulled a small book from her backpack and pushed it across the table. “The only homework we have is fifteen minutes of reading. Most of the time I forget to write in my agenda so….”

  “Then let’s go through your papers. Ms. Kratz sends home work you haven’t finished, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “We’ll start with one page. How about math? One page at a time so we don’t get overwhelmed.”

  “Sure.” Lexie dug around in her backpack and pulled out a crumpled page of word problems. “What about that weird lady?”

  “Her name is Samantha.”

  “Yeah, she was scary. I could tell Ms. Kratz was a little scared. Ms. Kratz isn’t scared by anyone.”

  That was just it, thought Belle. The other day Samantha had been the opposite of scary or intimidating. Today, what Belle overheard, the way the woman talked and her tone, was why Samantha worked for Xavier. She kept him together. She took care of the details. She did all the grunt work and the enforcing.

  Belle’s thoughts shifted to Minnie, the barbs and the sharpness behind her words at the meeting the day before. Lexie was a good judge of character.

  Lexie leaned over her hot cocoa. Belle wanted to burst out laughing at the way she looked around to make sure no one was listening, the way she lowered her voice. “What was up with that whole stabbing thing?”

  Now that was the question of the day. That was not how Xavier acted his first day in town. He had not been paranoid or had any obvious security. Something had changed. But what?

  “What?” Lexie babbled, excited. “Tell me. You’re thinking about something.”

  “Well, there was a phone call I overheard.”

  Lexie giggled. “So you like listening to other people talking?”

  It was a subtle accusation and Belle didn’t know whether to defend herself or not. “Hey, I’m not perfect.”

  “What did you overhear?” Lexie asked.

  “Not much. Nothing that offers a good reason for Xavier to fear for his life.” Although, he was a bit on the dramatic side. Maybe he drummed up the life-threatening stuff for his social media crowd. That wouldn’t surprise her. “It could just be an act, part of his drama.”

  “I don’t think so. That lady was pretty tough for just an act.”

  “Maybe.”

  Lexie had this way of pulling Belle into conversation, of distracting her from the task at hand, so when Lucas Graystone, Lexie’s uncle knocked on the door, Belle hissed, “Get working on that math.”

  Lexie whispered back, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Uncle Luc we were talking murder.”

  Terrific, Belle thought. She’d be fired from her volunteer tutoring job. She opened the door. At the sight of the tall detective with his crooked nose, she felt the familiar rush of warmth. Someday she’d ask who punched him. Then there was his smile, the way his whole face lit up when he greeted his friends. Not that she’d think of him in a romantic way; he was way older than her. Ten years or something? She let him inside, and he immediately sized up Belle.

  “Something’s going on here. I can tell.”

  Not for the first time, Belle experienced firsthand why he was so good at his job. Not for the first time, she wished she was better at presenting a neutral expression that said, Nothing to see here. She pushed through anyway, smiling. “Come on in. We’re, um, almost done.”

  Lucas joined them. With what was definitely the look of a detective, he said, “Have you managed to sidetrack your tutor?”

  Lexie blinked innocently, and it was on purpose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The next second, she jumped into the begging. “Uncle Lucas you have to be the security for Xavier. You know, the huge magician here in town. It’s not really open to kids, and I really want to go, and if you do security they’ll give us tickets and—”

  “Whoa, there, kiddo. Slow down.”

  Belle explained the situation with the murder mystery event and Xavier’s demands, but then she took control. “How about we look at the rest of these papers together, Lexie, so you know what to finish up at home tonight after dinner?”

  “Yes, great idea,” Lucas said. “We’ll talk about the rest of it tonight at home.”

  Lexie looked between both of them and gave in with a sigh. It took about fifteen minutes to read over the papers, with Belle pointing out what needed to be fixed, or to make sure Lexie knew what to do.

  That was when Belle realized she was running out of time, still needing to visit Simmons Bakery to ask about the welcome breakfast, which was, in fact, the next day. She’d tried the day before, but they were just closing by the time she walked through the door. This morning, they’d been busy. She wasn’t looking forward to talking to Oliver. It had been well-established he didn’t care for Belle or for The Beanery.

  “How about we meet in a couple of days, again, right here,” Belle suggested.

  Lexie big-smiled. “Okay.”

  Belle stood outside Simmons Bakery. It was impressive, a welcoming coffee shop, except it was more than a coffee shop. They offered breakfast items, and had a full catering business on the side. It was late to ask for the next day, Belle knew that. She had the weight of Forsythia Wright behind her. She hoped it was enough.

  It was still thirty minutes to closing, and the traffic flow was dwindling.

  When she entered the shop, she heard the voices, hushed and intense; the atmosphere sent a wave of prickles down her spine. She saw expressions, masked but tense, mouths a grim slash, cheeks flushing crimson. There was Xavier, sitting at a corner table, hunched over, spitting out angry words left and right, talking to someone Belle had never seen. He was a younger man, good-looking, close in age to Xavier.

  Belle thought maybe they needed an intervention. She could interrupt, ask Xavier about the security detail, because maybe she could help. Xavier had seen through her, to the very heart of her, like without even saying much, they knew one another and could chat for hours. She wanted that. She wanted to know about his past, what made him a survivor, the story behind this dramatic, successful magician.

  Sometimes, being a survivor meant, as you moved on, some parts of your past clung to the hem of your garments, or in his case, his cape. Xavier was paranoid and extremely protective of his brand. How he presented himself to the public. Like this version of himself, the perfect performer, was the real him.

  A part of her wanted to intervene, to protect Xavier.

  “Belle?”

  The sound of her name drew attention to the speaker, the father Joel Simmons. She approached the counter. She sincerely enjoyed her encounters with Joel, his kindness. Something about the flour or sugar that managed to nest in his beard made her smile. “Hi, there.”

  “Belle, how nice to see you.” He placed croissants in a bag as he talked. “I’ve seen you here, yesterday and now today. What do you need?”