“We’re here.” Mariska paused and Charlotte watched her throat bob as she swallowed hard.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Mariska nodded. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”
They walked the path that led to Crystal’s door and knocked.
Crystal opened the door. A television on volume one million played in the background. Crystal had removed her waitress uniform in favor of what looked like pajama shorts and an oversized V-neck tee. Her hair was wet and scraggy, as if she’d recently showered. Her mouth set in a grim line at the sight of them.
Charlotte’s immediate impression of Crystal’s mood was that she seemed sad.
Maybe Mariska is right about this.
The girl’s gaze settled on Mariska as a flash of recognition rippled across her expression.
“You,” she said.
Mariska held out the sifter. “Hello, Crystal. I borrowed this from your grandmother the night I was bread elf and I’m bringing it back. Have you ever made stollen with her? She had allergies to nuts, didn’t she?”
Charlotte silently groaned.
Smooth, Mariska. Smooth.
Crystal seemed to grow paler by the second.
“Yeah and, I, no…she’d wouldn’t let me,” she said.
Crystal took the sifter, her stare still laser-locked on Mariska.
“She wouldn’t let you?” echoed Charlotte before she could stop herself. Her plan had been to stay quiet and pretend she wasn’t there at all. It shouldn’t have been difficult, considering Crystal appeared mesmerized by Mariska and hadn’t appeared to even notice her. She needed to let Mariska work her grandmotherly magic, instead, here she was opening her big mouth.
Crystal’s gaze shifted to Charlotte, her head retracting on her neck a notch, as if she was surprised to find her there. Her expression clouded, and Charlotte knew she’d made a mistake. The girl sniffed, and her look of sadness dissipated, replaced by defensive posturing.
“Thanks for…” Crystal looked at the sifter and, seemingly unsure what to call it, shook it. “Thanks for the thing.”
She took a step back and began to close the door.
“Wait,” rushed Mariska, holding out a hand to stop the door’s progress.
Crystal paused. Again, Charlotte felt Mariska held some special fascination for the girl, and Crystal was powerless to deny her.
She regretted even more deeply not keeping her mouth shut and pressed her lips together as a reminder not to speak up again.
“I wanted you to know how sorry I am about Alice,” said Mariska. It wasn’t a line they’d practiced. These were Mariska’s true feelings.
Crystal’s expression softened and she nodded. “Thank you. That’s...you’re nice.”
“I didn’t know about her nut allergy, but I promise you I didn’t add nuts to the recipe.”
Crystal’s lip began to quiver. “I know. I have to go.”
She closed the door and Charlotte heard it lock.
Mariska looked at her, clearly upset. “She didn’t confess.”
“Let’s go.” Charlotte headed back down the path to draw the conversation away from Crystal’s doorstep. Mariska followed.
When they reached the curb, Charlotte continued. “She didn’t confess, but that isn’t your fault. That’s my fault. She seemed ready to listen to you and I broke the spell.”
“No, I don’t think it was your fault—”
“Thank you, but it was. You did great.”
Mariska sighed. “We did our best.”
They walked in silence, both locked in their own thoughts. Mariska wondered aloud if jail togs were one hundred percent cotton. Charlotte replayed in her head their short conversation with Crystal.
What did she mean about Alice forbidding her to make stollen? There was no logical reason to stop the girl from helping. Maybe she was sloppy? Tended to leave things unfinished after starting them? Maybe Alice knew anything they did together would end in an argument and she couldn’t bear the thought of asking for help.
Then there was the part that really caught Charlotte’s attention. When Mariska said she didn’t add the nuts to the stollen, Crystal said ‘I know.’
How could she know unless she knew who did put the nuts in the stollen?
And how could she know, unless it was her or she was covering for that terrible boyfriend?
Maybe that had been her confession.
Still, it wasn’t enough. They couldn’t take an off-handed comment as proof of Crystal’s guilt. The girl could have been dismissing them—using I know as a variant form of whatever.
As they approached Mariska’s house, Charlotte spotted Darla approaching them.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
Charlotte raised her hands and let them flop to her sides. “Mariska had her on the ropes and I ruined it.”
Mariska shook her head. “That’s not true. She was never going to confess. Why would she? It was a silly idea to get my hopes up.”
Darla opened her arms and gave them both a hug. “You tried. Let’s go have a glass of wine at my house.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Charlotte.
Mariska sighed. “I might as well. They probably won’t let me have wine in prison.”
Charlotte laughed. “You’re not going to prison.”
“Anyway, you can always make toilet wine,” said Darla.
Mariska’s lip curled. “That’s disgusting.”
Darla laughed and elbowed her friend in the arm. “I feel like I dodged a bullet. I was bread elf last year.”
“Sure, rub it in.”
“Did Alice have everything all laid out for you when you got there?”
“Yes. She was so thoughtful.”
“And she had you choose the starter?”
Mariska smiled. “Yes. She was so cute with those three starters, shuffling them like it was a game.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Charlotte.
“She had three different jars of starter yeast. The bread elf gets to pick which one to use.”
Darla opened the door to her house and ushered the ladies inside. “I think that’s how Alice tried to make it special for us—as if choosing which starter we used somehow made the finished product ours as much as hers.”
“What was the difference between the three of them?”
