Page 1

The January business-to-business meeting agenda for South Cove, California, was pretty light. I had volunteered to run the meeting since Darla Taylor, our chairman and owner of the South Cove Winery, was on vacation this week with her boyfriend. I looked down at the list of things we still needed to cover in the last thirty minutes before people would abandon the meeting to open their businesses. I didn’t blame them. My staff members, Judith Dame and Deek Kerr, were both busy helping customers who were wandering through the bookstore and lining up for coffee to get them through a busy day of shopping. Everyone was looking for a magic bullet or perfect system to reframe their New Year ’s resolutions.

“The city council wants to let you know that next year, they’re closing Main Street the weekend of Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day. It’s to protect Santa’s workshop. There have been complaints that cars have been parking where Santa’s sleigh and reindeer are supposed to park.” I looked around the room. “They say it’s a safety hazard. This isn’t up for debate here. If you want to complain, c all city hall.”

My best friend, Amy Newman-Cross, gave me a dirty look. She would probably be the one fielding those calls. “Call your city council reps instead. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you. And besides, they’ll probably forget to make the change before n ext Christmas.”

“Closing Main Street makes it hard for people to carry big-ticket items from your store to their cars,” Josh Thomas stated. He ran Antiques by Thomas next door to my bookstore. “I suppose you expect everyone to provide del ivery service?”

“Not me. The council put this out. I’m just reading what they sent me. Besides, your customers can park behind your store and pick up large items in the alley,” I pointed out. Josh always wanted to complain without looking for an alternative. “Anyway, there are a few more items, but they’re related to the winter festival at the end of the month, so I’ll have Darla send out an email next week. Don’t ignore it, please. One more thing. If you haven’t received your invitation yet, Greg King and I are getting married next Sunday at the La Pur í sima Mission at three p.m. sharp. Afterward, we’ll have a reception on the grounds as well. Hopefully, the weather will hold out for as long as the band wants to play.”

Yep, we were finally getting married. The ceremony had been scheduled for June, October, and now January. I just needed Greg’s mom to feel well enough to make the trip this month. If not, we were still getting married. Come hell or high water, as my aunt always said. Maybe saying it aloud was tem pting disaster.

“The mission site will be lovely,” added Matty Leaven, the owner of the newest business to South Cove, a jewelry shop. “My husband and I went there just last week to walk around. Of course, we didn’t see the ghost, but it was early. Hopefully, he’ll show up for your festivities. His appearance is supposed to be a blessing.”

“Hopefully not, ” Amy murmured.

Matty turned her head and glare d at my friend.

Before she could say anything, I jumped in. “Unless there is anything else?”

Kane Matthews stood and held up a hand. Kane was another new arrival to town. His tall stature, dark hair, and piercing eyes made an impression. Even in a boring meeting. He scanned the room. “I’m sorry to delay closing, but I wanted to invite everyone to our open house at New Hope on Friday. We still have all our holiday decorations up and would love to have our neighbors come and see our new home.”

The Central California Society for the Advancement of the Mind and Body was a new addition to our town. CCSAMB, or C-scam, as most locals called it, was a group of more than a hundred people who lived on a converted ranch outside of town. They also went by New Hope. Which was much easier to remember. The first thing the group had done when they’d purchased the property was put a stone wall all around the hundred acres. Then they’d added a black gate and guardhouse that was staffed twenty-four seven. Before they’d registered with the city as a religious organization, the townsfolk had assumed that a celebrity from Hollywood was moving ont o the property.

Instead, now we had our own cult, New Hope. Greg hated it when I called Kane’s organization a cult, but it seemed like the description fit. The women who visited town wore their hair long and in braids or pulled back in a bun. They were always in modest dresses, no pants. And the men wore jeans and button-down shirts. Some wore suits, and I’d seen gun harnesses underneath the expensive jackets. And they had earbuds connected to a wire that ran into their suit jackets. Kane did as well. No religious order I knew had that level of security on their leader. Except maybe the pope. And he didn’t live in a small California coa stal community.

The guards surrounded Kane every time he left the property. In fact, two men in suits sat outside the bookstore right now, waiting for their leader to appear. I suspected at least one of the guards was watching the back o f the building.

I didn’t know what Kane Matthews had done in the past, but clearly, he thought he was a target now. Which made me question his New Hope organization and its sunshiny Make Your Life A Masterpiece m otto even more.

Today Kane wore an expensive black suit with a purple dress shirt and no tie. He wore a variation of that outfit every time I saw him in town. Or riding in hi s black Hummer.

The one good thing for me and the bookstore was that the residents of the compound bought a lot of books. Reading must be an app roved activity.

I realized Kane had stopped talking while I thought about his cult. I faked a smile. “Oh, how fun. Will there be ope n house hours?”

He smiled at me, and I felt a chill running through my body. Maybe some women found him attractive, but I never had. He looked cold and mean. “Of course. The gates will be open from eight to eight. I do hope you all will come by. The rumor that we are some sort of cult has been circulating in our lovely town. We want to show you all that we’re g ood neighbors.”

I hoped I wasn’t blushing since I’d just been thinking that. I scanned the table, but no one else seemed to want to make an announcement. “Okay then, let’s call an end to the monthly meeting. You’ll be getting an email from Darla regarding the winter festival. Please read and respond. And I’ll see you all next month unless I s ee you before.”

“I’m not sure ‘winter festival’ is an appropriate name based on the lack of snow,” Kane said to the pers on next to him.

“Okay, we’ll see you all later.” I ignored the comment. I wasn’t going to get into a discussion of Darla’s favorite festival without her here to defend it. Besides, festivals brought in tourists who bought stuff. Kane’s group wasn’t even a business, so I didn’t understand why he attended our meetings. The mayor originally had invited him just to meet the group. Of course, the mayor rarely attended the meetings. A fact that pleased me to no end. I banged the gavel and people started fle eing the store.

Kane Matthews looked around the now almost-empty table and smiled. “I guess I’ll have to fight that bat tle next year.”

After he’d left, Amy started helping me move tables back to the dining room setup. “He’s so creepy. I can’t believe you stood up to him. Now if you disappear, at least I’ll know the first place to look. That ranch of theirs. But with so many acres, I’m not sure we’ll ever f ind your body.”

“Stop it. They’re nice people. At least, the women who come into town to shop are nice. He’s just a little off. Maybe it’s the mantle of leadership that has him up in everyone’s faces.” I was trying t o be welcoming.

“I heard Kane and Pastor Bill got into it Sunday after services at Diamond Lille’s. The guy came over and challenged Pastor Bill’s beliefs, if the story I heard was true.” Amy moved to another table. “Did Sadie say anything?”

“No, but I haven’t seen her this week. Since Aunt Jackie retired, I’m only working the morning shifts on Thursday through Sunday—a schedule Greg doesn’t understand. He wants me to work Tuesday through Thursday. That way our weekends are free.” We’d had the discussion again this morning before I’d come in f or the meeting.

“Like Greg ever takes a weekend off,” Amy said, supporting exactly what I’d told him during our last discussion. Amy and I had been friends f or a long time.

“Being gone on the weekends makes it hard to plan for festivals and impossible to take out the food truck.” I was pretty sure Greg was just grumpy about his mom and her health. She’d had a hard year. Hopefully, now she was in full remission and he could relax a little. When we put off the wedding in October, it was due to her inability to travel. The wedding was beginning to feel like something we had to do rather than something we wanted to do. Weddings could be stressful. One more delay and I was voting for a run to Vegas. “Anyway, I told him we could revisit my schedule after we got back from the honeymoon.”

“A week in Hawaii on the beach. I’m jealous.” Amy glanced around the dining room. Judith and Deek had jumped in to help as soon as the meeting adjourned, so we wer e already done.

“Don’t be jealous yet. He’s being cagey about where we’re going. I’m thinking we’re probably going to Alaska or Antarctica rather than Hawaii.” I went over to the counter and refilled my coffee. “Is it too ea rly for lunch?”

“Yes. It’s only ten. I can’t get away today anyway. Mayor Baylor has me working up a new PR campaign to bring more retreat groups to South Cove. He thinks that maybe Kane’s group will allow the town to host a yoga retreat or something out at the compound.”

“Is that what he’s been working on?” That made a little more sense than inviting a group with religious tax exemptions to the area. “If they host a retreat, they’ll have to pay taxes, right?”

“Or at least our tourist counts will increase in the off months.” Amy grabbed her purse. “I think the mayor’s in bed with the devil, but it wouldn’t be t he first time.”

Amy was right about that. Our mayor had a habit of supporting big developments for the sake of lining his pockets. Whether or not the town wanted the new business. He’d tried to get me to sell my house and property for years. Almost sinc e I moved here.

My phone buzzed with a calendar reminder. I had the final fittings on my dress in Santa Barbara at noon. It would take at least an hour to get there. I’d take a book and eat lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant after the fitting. Or maybe I’d be on carrots and water until after the wedding. It all came down how th e fitting went.

I grabbed my tote and said goodbye to my staff. Deek held up his hand, so I stopped by where he was stocking books. “D o you need me?”

“Your aura is a funky orange today. Did you and the dude fight?” Deek Kerr was the son of a fortune teller. He thought he read auras. Or maybe he did read auras and I was just a nonbeliever.

“We’re fine. Greg’s just a little freaked out about the upcoming wedding.” Greg had been worried about something else. He hadn’t talked about it, but Esmeralda had let it slip. He was being courted for a job by a state law enforcement agency. He’d always said he’d never leave South Cove, but I thought this position might be tempting him. I’d made him a resume last night and had planned on giving it to him this morning. Now, I’d just have to send it to him. He needed to review it and see if there was any work experience missing and if the dates were right. I’d heard that the agency was a stickler for absolute accuracy in the application process. “I’m hoping by the end of the month, he’ll be b ack to normal.”

Deek set down the book he’d been shelving. “Orange is a serious color for you. Maybe you should chat with my mom or Esmeralda. Sometimes having a professional’s take on life helps.”

Professional? Rory Kerr and Esmeralda DeClair were fortune tellers, not mental health counselors or even life coaches. I shook my head. “I’m not much into taking advice from the beyond. Anyway, I need to go.”

When I moved to open the front door, a woman came inside, holding a s tack of flyers.

“Excuse me, have you seen this girl?” The woman thrust a flyer into my hand. “It’s her senior picture. She went to Cal Poly in September, just down the road. She didn’t come home for Christmas, but she said she was skiing with friends. Then I went to her dorm last week and found out she’s been gone since October. Following this Reverend Matthews. I hear they have a church here. A place ca lled New Hope.”

The picture was of a typical blond-haired, blue-eyed California girl. She grinned at the camera like she had her life in order and a plan to conq uer the future.

I didn’t recognize the girl, but only a few of Matthews’s followers came into town. A few of the men drove a van into town once a week to pick up mail, deliver their crafts to the shops that let them sell on commission, and drop by the bookstore. I’d heard from others that they did their food and supply shopping in Bakerstown. I felt lucky that they came to South Cove to buy b ooks, at least.

I tried to hand the flyer back, but the woman shook her head. “Keep it. Maybe you’ll see her. Her name’s Carolyn. But she likes going by Carlie. She was studying engineering. And she worked so hard to get admitted to the school. I don’t understand what s he’s thinking.”

“I haven’t seen her, but Deek will put the flyer up on our community board.” I handed my crumpled flyer to Deek, who looked up after seeing the picture and shook his head.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen her either. I’ll take another one for my writers’ group. Maybe someone has seen her around.” Deek held out his hand for a second flyer.

“Bless you. It’s just the two of us after her dad died last year. I thought she just needed some time at school.” The woman w as sobbing now.

“Deek, why don’t you get—” I turned to look at the woman. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Molly. Molly Cordon.” She sank into a chair at a table. “I’m so tired.”

“What do you want to drink, on the house?” Deek listed off all the coffee drinks with a little flair.

I smiled at him and left Molly Cordon in good hands. Getting a free coffee and some friendly attention from Deek wouldn’t bring back her daughter or solve the mystery of why she disappeared, but it might just brighten her day for a few minutes.

Walking home, I noticed the flyers in the windows of all the local businesses. If Carlie was living with Kane’s cult, he wouldn’t be too happy when he came back into town and saw them posted. But keeping him happy wasn’t my problem. I felt for the woman sitting in my coffee shop right now. No one should be faced with losing a child and n ot knowing why.

Josh Thomas was sweeping the sidewalk in front of his antiques store. His wife, Mandy, now worked for him along with his longtime assistant, Kyle. I’d seen a softer touch in the store’s decorations since their marriage. And if my unscientific count of increased customers was correct, adding her to the business had been a good thing. He picked up one of the flyers that someone must have dropped. “Did you see this?”

I nodded. “Her mom’s in my bookstore right now. She looks like she needs a good m onth of sleep.”

“I know the feeling.” He glanced over at the bookstore windows. “I can’t imagine having your chi ld go missing.”

I thought that out of everyone in town, Josh was the one person who could imagine it, since Mandy had disappeared before their wedding. I didn’t bring up the past, as I knew it was still painful. “Hopefully, she’ll be able to make contact with her. If Carlie’s in the—” I almost slipped and said cult, “—at the New Hope compound, I hope someone will see this and have her call her mom.”

“I hope it’s that easy.” Josh took the flyer and his broom back i nside his shop.

“Me too,” I muttered under my breath. I needed to get home and get the Jeep so I could get to my fitting. Then, maybe later this afternoon, I could take Emma for a run. As long as nothing else slowed me down.

As I hurried down the hill to my house, I saw a slight woman slowly walking up the hill. She had short salt-and-pepper hair and was wearing a pink T-shirt. When she saw me, her face filled wit h a large grin.

“Jill, I’m so glad to see you. I just got in a few minutes ago and left the rental car at the house. I thought I’d walk up and surprise Greg at work. If he’s there.” Amanda King, Greg’s mom, had finally arrived for our wedding. A week earlier than we’ d expected her.

I might not make my fitting today.