Double Dipped

By Terry Korth Fischer

Accepting second best is good for her career, but first-grade teacher, Retta Curt, delays signing up for the disappointment. Given two weeks to reconsider her contract, she retreats to Gram’s cottage on Moon Lake, the last place she felt contentment. But the cottage is derelict; Cousin Julie, distant; childhood beaux, Dean, bitter; and Sweet Picks, the family ice cream stand, in danger of folding. Magruder, a surly newcomer, is buying and then neglecting properties until nothing remains of the idyllic lakeside community she remembers. When vandals target Sweet Picks, Retta’s dreams to recapture her happy childhood collapse, and the return to Moon Lake becomes a decision worse than accepting her teaching contract. Star-crossed, can she save the family business and rediscover happiness, or is Retta destined for a second-best future?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jun 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781509242757

Terry Korth Fischer

Biography Terry Korth Fischer writes mystery and memoir. Her memoir, Omaha to Ogallala, was released in 2019. Her short stories have appeared in The Write Place at the Write Time, Spies & Heroes, and numberous anthologies. Transplanted from the Midwest, Terry lives in Houston with her husband and their two guard cats. She enjoys a good mystery, the heat and humidity, and long summer days. Visit her website at https://terrykorthfischer.com

Book preview

Dean Zwack, tall, dressed in an orange and white Hawaiian shirt, entered. One look at her standing there, and his dark eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. Retta? Lauretta Taft?

I go by Retta Curt, now. She studied him; handsome with an easy smile, dark hair needing a trim, and ears that poked through the curls.

A slow grin spread across his face. His eyes twinkled. Retta Taft Curt, he whispered.

Casting her gaze to the linoleum floor, she inhaled deeply. Hello, Dean. It’s been a while.

I’ll say. He moved with an athlete’s grace around the counter to face her. What has it been? Ten years? Fifteen?

Maybe a dozen years, not more.

You look great.

You look older.

Why did she say that? Of course, he looked older. They’d been in high school the last summer she’d spent at Moon Lake. College, marriage, divorce, fledgling career—all had happened in the meantime. She felt her cheeks heating. Hoping he didn’t notice the blush or her embarrassment, she quickly added, So, you’re staffing the family front desk tonight?

Tonight, and every night. He still wore the grin. Story of my life.

There was a prolonged silence while he looked her over from dirty-blond head to sandaled feet. She endured the inspection, wondering what he’d done while she was making a mess of her life.

Praise for Terry Korth Fischer and Gone Before

… Suspense starts on the first page [and] maintains its level until the final explosive conclusion…

Booklover Review

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… A mystery that will appeal on many levels…the classic detective with the eager rookie…small-town life with a big-city conspiracy…and the simple value of a nice old cat…

N.N. Light’s Book Heaven Review

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… Fischer knows how to write a police procedural and how to lace it with suspense. She slowly created characters I cared about—and a few I hated…

Jackie Houchin, Here’s How it Happened Review

~*~

…Quality characters with an exciting whodunit held on tight to the very end…

Lori Caswell, Dollycas Reviews

Double Dipped

by

Terry Korth Fischer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Double Dipped

COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Terry Korth Fischer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2022

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4275-7

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For Bill and Lindsay, who understand lake community, and share a joy for mole bones, stage plays, and family.

Chapter One

Retta Curt felt every inch the tyrant. In the last hour, on the final day before summer vacation, her first-grade students barely managed to stay in the room, let alone seated at their desks. Anything but endearing, they drew frowns instead of encouragement, and left her short on patience.

She could remember her own school days when this day signaled the start to summer and three carefree months spent on Moon Lake at Gram's lakeside cottage. Back then, it had been a world far removed from life in Quentin, Wisconsin and her one-bedroom apartment.

Moon Lake held allure, enchantment, a sweetness. At least it had for a young teen and a doting grandmother. Retta guessed she couldn't blame the students.

When her last charge flew through the door after the final bell, she removed the students’ names from above the storage cubes. One job less to perform in the fall—if she came back in the fall. Her new contract lay on the desk at home, where she'd been studying the offer and contemplating her career at Quentin Elementary.

Opening the top desk drawer, she removed the stash she’d accumulated: one shiny tin badge, two penknives, a rubber snake, and a large aspirin bottle. She smiled. First graders: you had to love them, all shiny-faced and crayon scented, grubby hands, little boy sweat, and plastic bead jewelry.

So why was she so ready to see the year end? Had teaching in Quentin been one more decision separating her from happiness? She should be satisfied, she told herself—and needed to stop comparing her adult woes to her childhood pleasures. Roll with the punches, as Gram would have said.

The door squeaked and opened. Ms. Meyers, frizzy hair framing her face, stepped in. She stopped after crossing the threshold. I'm glad I caught you, the frumpy principal said, eying her.

Retta stowed the last souvenir in the small box she'd brought for the task and turned to face her boss. Challenging day, but we made it through the year.

That we did, Mrs. Curt. Ms. Meyers wrinkled her nose as her glance passed over the finger-smeared windows. Maintenance is scheduled to repaint the rooms this summer.

Retta emptied pencils and pens from the middle drawer, adding them to her box. Oh?

Yes. The principal moved into the room and surveyed the posters. You won't be in this room come fall. New assignment, and a scheduled spruce up. I'll thank you to remove all the decorations and what-not.

What-not?

Because things seemed to disappear over summer break, Retta had already planned to empty the classroom and preserve her tools for later use.

Ms. Meyers cleared her throat. Your decorations are too juvenile for fourth graders. Children mature much earlier nowadays. Too much TV, too many video games, and the Internet. Bushy brows formed a V between her perpetually watery eyes. By the way, I don't believe I received your signed contract.

I’m still studying the details.

Ms. Meyers took a step toward her. Nothing new except the grade assignment.

I enjoy teaching the younger children. Sneaking a sideways glance at Ms. Meyers, she noted the older woman's expression hadn't softened.

Everyone signed their contract months ago. As I've told you, there is no longer a need for three first-grade teachers. You, being the newest hire, lose out to seniority. I'm sorry, but I think the offer to teach the fourth grade is more than fair.

Retta didn't think it was fair. But, then again, she wasn't completely sure she wanted to spend her life teaching either.

My hands are tied, Ms. Meyers added, her face and words showing little remorse. I already agreed to give you until the year’s end, and now, here we are. I need to fill the open position.

It's two weeks until Memorial Day. Could I have that time to consider the offer? If you just give me two weeks, I'll decide right after the holiday.

You know all the capable teachers are already under contract, Myers said with a sniff of disapproval. I'll point out, contracts are signed in April.

In the bottom drawer, Retta found a note she'd received on Valentine's Day. Written with an unpracticed hand, it read, I luv Misses Curt. The C faced the wrong direction, and the page was torn through where he'd exerted pressure with a blunt pencil.

The sender: a student who desperately needing extra attention. Just when she thought she'd failed, he'd secretly passed her the note. It still made her heart swell.

What about a kindergarten class? Ms. Meyer's head gave a negative shake. Pre-K? Retta asked hopefully.

The principal huffed. We are more than satisfied with your performance, Mrs. Curt, but we only have the middle-grade opening.

Retta's heart sank.

It wasn't about teaching. On the contrary, she loved children and at thirty-two, she felt her chances to have her own slipping away. Divorced and without a current love interest, it was pretty certain she'd remain childless.

Finally, the drawers were empty. Ms. Meyers glowered at her as Retta hefted the box onto her hip. I promise, she repeated, in two weeks—I'll give you an answer. Bright and early, the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day.

She left Ms. Meyers frowning as she stared out the classroom window.

****

Snicking the car trunk open, Retta stowed the box with her classroom memorabilia. Summer. She was officially on vacation. Lowering the lid, she thought about summering at Moon Lake, a small town near Lake Michigan, nestled among the beautiful chain lakes in Wisconsin. Her grandmother’s cottage had always been her refuge. Lake friends, activities, and what felt like cousins by the dozens had filled her days.

She’d always arrived at Gram Taft's cottage on Memorial Day weekend and stayed until the last Labor Day firework fizzled out. It was a carefree time filled with fireflies, midnight swims, and bonfires by night. By day, there were the endless ice-cream cones at Sweet Picks followed by swimming and volleyball on the beach. Moon Lake was where she had her first crush, her first kiss, and that first step into freedom.

After college graduation she had stopped visiting. Then when Gram passed, the cottage went up for sale and Retta closed her life chapter labelled carefree. Through the grapevine, she’d heard new homes had been erected in the area and now separated Gram's property from the lakefront. Still, the happy memories and the lingering feelings from the past were strong. She wondered if she had outgrown Moon Lake. And if enchantment had faded forever.

Back in her apartment, she opened the hall closet and placed the box on the shelf. She'd sort through the items in the Fall, pulling out those that would go with her back to school. Ahead stretched fourteen weeks without responsibilities—roughly a hundred days without a care. Except for deciding on the contract, she didn't have a single thing to tie her down.

Moon Lake. It was so tempting to just pack a bag, drive across the state, and revisit her childhood haven. Sure, the lake wouldn't be the same without Gram and the cottage. But there were other attractions, like cousins, sunshine, and the chance to lose herself.

Retta pulled out an oversized suitcase and headed for the bedroom to pack.

Chapter Two

The shortest route to Moon Lake took four hours. It could have been on the other side of the world for all Retta cared. It didn't matter if it was a long road trip or, after using two hours to pack and button