Read Town In a Lobster Stew for Free Online Page B

towns all the time. Didn’t they?
    And it certainly could have happened here in Cape Willington, Maine, given its overabundance of unique characters.
    Couldn’t it?
    Candy felt a quick chill go up her spine, a mixture of nervousness and excitement, as she realized she might be onto something. Call it intuition, a sixth sense, or what-ever, but she had to admit she was inclined to believe Wilma Mae.
    And that made her pulse quicken, knowing what—and who—she faced.
    Wanda Boyle ? Why, of all people, does it have to be her?
    Candy shook her head and absently brushed back her honey-colored hair.
    She knew what she had to do.
    Standing in the kitchen, she told Wilma Mae she’d dig around, ask a few questions in town, and see what she could find out.
    Wilma Mae was beside herself with gratitude. “I can’t tell you how happy I am,” the elderly woman said enthusiastically. “Oh, I can pay you! Mr. Wendell left me a little money. And I know Mr. Sedley and myself would both be so grateful if you could get the recipe back for us. It would be like finding a lost member of the family—that’s how much it means to us.”
    “Mrs. Wendell, I could never take your money,” Candy said honestly. “Besides, I don’t know if I’ll find out anything at all. Just give me a few days to poke around. I’ll give you a call over the weekend and we can talk then.”
    Wilma Mae laid a thin-boned hand on Candy’s arm and gave her a sweet smile. “I knew you were the right person to call. I don’t know how to thank you.”
    Candy felt touched. “I haven’t done anything yet . . . but I’m glad to help if I can.”
    She thanked Wilma Mae for the tea, dropped her pen and reporter’s notebook into her purse, and said her good-byes.
    Outside, a cool wind blew past her, tossing about her hair and carrying with it the fresh, newborn smell of spring. The chilly breeze pushed her gently along the front walkway, but the midday sun warmed her as she climbed into her old teal-colored Jeep Cherokee, which was starting to show its age. She cranked up the engine, backed out of the driveway, and drove toward the center of town, her mind still occupied with thoughts of Wilma Mae, Wanda Boyle, and the missing lobster stew recipe.
    It took her only a few minutes to reach Ocean Avenue, a gently sloping central boulevard lined with quaint shops, restaurants, and other businesses. It ran in length only for a long, stretched-out block, from Main Street at its northerly end to Town Park, the Lightkeeper’s Inn, the Coastal Loop road, and the sea at its southerly tip. Its most notable feature was the Pruitt Opera House, which stood in stately fashion halfway down the avenue on the northern side.
    Candy glanced at the opera house as she turned onto Ocean Avenue. It had been there, on the building’s high widow’s walk, that one of the most harrowing experiences of her life had occurred on a rainy night ten months ago. Even now, the memory of that raw, windy night gave her goose bumps as images of the life-and-death struggle flashed through her mind.
    Quickly she shook away those thoughts and turned her attention back to the matter at hand.
    Finding a parking spot along Ocean Avenue in July and August, at the height of the busy summer tourist season, could be a tricky business, but she found plenty of spaces today. It was the Thursday before the Memorial Day weekend—the end of spring but not quite summer—and the bulk of the incoming visitors had yet to arrive.
    Still, Candy could sense a definite air of excitement around town. Cape Willington nearly doubled in size each summer, as the seasonal people arrived to open up their cabins and camps, and out-of-state cars clogged the streets and took up all the good parking spots. At the height of the summer season, in July and August, Ocean Avenue buzzed with conversations and laughter as the sidewalks, shops, cafés, and rustic seaside inns filled up with families and couples looking to spend a few days