Berry the Hatchet by Peg Cochran

with tiny white lights. She could see there were several people standing around the counter inside the shop, while others peered at the display of diamonds and other gems in the window.
    Next door was the Purple Grape. The wine store didmost of its business during the summer when tourists were in town, but the locals were becoming more and more interested in learning about grapes and various vintages. It, too, had been decorated with lights, which created a distinct contrast with the storefront next door.
    A sign with
Pepper Pot
in paprika-colored script hung outside the darkened space, and Monica could see the menu she’d looked at the other day still taped to the window. She’d have to ask the VanVelsen sisters about it—they knew virtually everything that went on in Cranberry Cove. The restaurant should have been open by now to take advantage of the crowds gathered for the Winter Walk. At least Monica understood that that had been the plan. Grace had told the book club that the dining room of the Cranberry Cove Inn was fully booked with a waiting list as long as her arm, so another restaurant in town would have been a boon. People wanted atmosphere and good service, which the Cranberry Cove Diner couldn’t provide, although the merits of its chili were known far and wide.
    Monica finally reached the makeshift booth Jeff had created for the Walk. She was relieved to set down her baskets—they’d grown heavier with each step. She carefully arranged the containers of salsa—each glass jar topped with a piece of cloth printed with cranberries and tied around the lid with a red grosgrain ribbon.
    She was setting the last few in place when the door to Gumdrops opened and Hennie stepped out. She had a gray cardigan draped around her shoulders, and her arms were crossed over her chest.
    â€œGlad to see you’re back, dear.” She pulled the sweater around her more tightly. “We’ve been doing a brisk business. A very brisk business indeed.” She pointed atMonica’s tower of cranberry salsa. “Those will be gone in no time. We’re fresh out of pastilles and root beer barrels.” She shook her head. “That’s never happened before—not even on summer holidays like Memorial Day and the Fourth of July.”
    â€œEveryone seems to be busy. It’s a shame that new restaurant hadn’t been able to open.” She pointed across the street toward the Pepper Pot.
    â€œThey were supposed to.” Hennie frowned. “I heard something about a permit being delayed. Apparently the owner was furious. Edith DeHamer—she works over at the town hall—told me about it. The fellow raised quite a ruckus apparently.” Hennie shivered. “I’d best be going in. I don’t want to catch my death of cold out here.”
    Monica gazed longingly at the warmly lit front of Gumdrops. Her fingers and toes were already turning numb. She thought of Jeff and his crew working out on the bogs, where there was nothing to block the frigid wind blowing in off the lake.
    Soon Monica had sold all the stock she had with her. She picked up her empty baskets and was about to leave when she changed her mind. She’d go into Gumdrops and get something to take home to her mother. Nancy needed cheering up, and who didn’t love candy?
    â€œYou must be frozen,” Gerda said when she spotted Monica standing by the counter. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
    â€œThat would be lovely.” Monica took off her gloves, shoved them into her pockets and rubbed her hands together briskly.
    The shop momentarily emptied of customers, and Hennie went over to Monica.
    â€œAre you calling it a day?” she asked.
    Monica nodded. “Yes. I’ve sold everything I had. I’m going to have to do some serious baking tomorrow morning.”
    â€œIt’s a shame Preston’s not here to see what a success the Winter Walk is. A lot of people balked at