by Lynn Cahoon
“That won’t do at all.” Adele watched as Mr. Darcy crawled up on Grans’s shoulder. She reached out a hand to pet the cat, who hissed at her. Dropping her hand, she focused her glare on Mia. “My parents ran the Beef Council for years. You had to have known we had the largest cattle operation in the Challis area, maybe even the entire Magic Valley.”
“I sent you the menu a week ago.” Mia thought about the prep list she’d spent hours writing out last night. A list that would have to be completely revamped if Adele made this change in the menu. “I’m sure you responded.”
“I’ve been busy. You should have called.” Adele stepped farther away from the hissing cat. “I don’t remember everything. That’s why I’m telling you now.”
“You already approved the menu,” Mia repeated through clenched teeth. Apparently sensing her distress, Mr. Darcy jumped out of Grans’s arms and walked over to Mia. He curled on her feet, watching the women.
“I doubt that. No matter, you need to serve beef. It’s a tradition. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Adele pulled out a beeping phone and after glancing at the display, focused on Grans. “We need to leave now if we’re going to keep our court time.”
Mia sighed. Trying one more time to win a battle already lost, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want squab?”
“The homeless eat pigeon. Porterhouse. Or whatever cut you think is best. You’re the expert.” Adele turned toward the door, pulling Grans along with her.
That’s what you keep saying. Mia said, “I’ll try, but the party is this weekend.”
“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Grans shook off Adele’s grip and turned back to Mia. She planted a kiss on her cheek.
Mia followed them to the front door. Daylight filtered through the dirt-covered windows. Another item for her to do list, hire a window cleaner. Mr. Darcy’s soft footsteps padded behind her. “Thanks for stopping in,” she called as they left the building. After the door closed, she added, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t hear, “and ruining a perfectly good day.”
If she was being honest though, the ruination of her day had started with Isaac’s call. She reached down to stroke Mr. Darcy. He meowed his wishes.
“Sorry, your dinner is going to have to wait. I’ve got to get to Majors Grocery.” Mia told the cat, who looked horrified at this change of plans. She hauled the painting supplies to the kitchen. Her mind whirled as water rinsed cheery yellow paint out of the roller and down the drain. Her detailed plan of attack for the event had disappeared with a flick of Adele’s perfectly polished, blood-red nails.
Mr. Darcy wove through her legs as she stood at the sink. Finishing the cleanup, she laid the tools on a towel to dry and double-checked the lock on the back door. Then she climbed the two sets of stairs to the third floor and her apartment.
Christina Adams, the almost twenty-year-old sister of her ex, jumped up from the couch when Mia entered the apartment. “I thought you were going to paint this afternoon?”
“I thought you were coming to help just as soon as you finished lunch?” Mia studied the girl. Last month, Christina had returned to Magic Springs. She’d shown up on Mia’s doorstep with a police escort. Mark Baldwin, the town’s only officer, had found her loitering in the small downtown park. Her long hair, blond now although it had been red during her last visit, screamed cheerleader, but the bars in her eyebrow and her lip along with the row of piercings in her ear, hardened the look.
Christina had been planning on starting college this semester after spending last year in Las Vegas, trying to make it as a dancer after some bad advice from her substitute dance coach. Now, after one more fight with the family, she’d tracked Mia down and asked if she could live with her for a while. Mia didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even if Mia wouldn’t be part of the Adams family, now or ever.
The girl had the decency to blush. “I’m not really good at all that painting stuff. Maybe I could just help you with the cooking rather than the remodeling.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling we’re going to have to pull an all-nighter if we want to finish prep before the party.” She went into the kitchen to get her list. “I’m heading over to Majors. Be ready to work when I get back.”
Mia heard the television come on as her only answer. Training Christina to be a sous-chef might be harder than she’d imagined. Running her fingers over her cookbook she’d left out that morning with the prep list, she remembered Isaac’s call. Could there be another reason the girl had appeared? Mia locked her cookbook in her desk. She’d been stupid before. Today, she’d take paranoid.
Where was she going to get thirty servings of steak by tomorrow evening? And the side dishes had to completely change. Adele was paying for both grocery orders, no matter what Grans said.
She hoped the small country store had enough meat on hand. Or an idea.
As she opened the front door she tripped over an envelope. The return address on the top was smeared but the envelope was clearly addressed to Christina. Mia shoved it into her purse. She’d give it to her when she got back. Or after the party, when she wouldn’t mind losing her apprentice.
A dusting of snow had fallen the night before, coating the town in white. Magic Springs looked like a Dickens novel. The roads had been plowed. Someone had run a small blade—probably on the front of a four-wheeler—over the sidewalks in front of the school and down the two blocks toward Majors. Small towns, Mia mused. No way had the city paid for this type of service. It had to be one of the homeowners in the village who donated their early morning service for the pleasure of driving their toy around the snow-covered streets.
Mia took a deep breath, trying to focus on solving her menu problems rather than being filled with the quiet beauty of the town. Beef. Maybe a garlic mashed potato? Or a scalloped? Or would Adele consider the menu too homey for her party? Would there be any way Majors could pull off an order of fresh asparagus? It was April, even though the town wouldn’t acknowledge spring for a few weeks at the earliest. There had to be asparagus ready to harvest somewhere.
Stomping the snow off her boots, she pushed open the glass grocery slider. A bell rang over the door, echoing in the seemingly empty store. No cashier stood at the register, no shoppers filled the aisles. Mia glanced at her watch, five-fifteen. The store closed early during the winter and she’d just made it.
She grabbed a cart and headed to the butcher block in the back. The meat case stood empty and her heart sank. A bell sat on the top of the case and she rang it once. No one came through the doors. Maybe Adele would just have to suck it up and eat the food Mia had planned to serve after all.
Mia could see her grandmother’s frown. Again, she banged on the bell, harder this time, picturing Adele’s unsmiling face each time she hit the silver chime.
“Hold up.” A man’s voice called from the back. “I heard you the first twenty times. I have my hands full back here.”
Mia jumped back from the meat case, her hand still out in front of her. She called toward the door, “Okay, I’ll wait here.”
That was dumb. Of course, she would wait. Now that she’d had some time to think, Mia pulled out a slip of paper and started making a quick shopping list. Peaches, asparagus, more butter, fresh horseradish, potatoes. Finally, she looked up from her list satisfied. She only needed to add thirty quality steaks. Maybe she should serve a soup too. That would give her more time to grill and prep the main course.
Loud voices were muffled by the swinging doors. Was that an argument? She inched closer, trying to see through the window in the door. Two men stood by a large metal table. One, dressed in a suit, shook a finger at the other. Now she could hear the actual words. “I’m not making this offer again. I’ll wait and get the property for pennies when it goes to auction.”
“I’m not losing this store. Majors has been in the family since the beginning of Magic Springs. It’s part of t
he community, the town’s history. We’re just going through a bad patch. Everyone is.” The man dropped a box on the table. “I have a customer waiting for me. Unless you’re here to shop, get the heck out of my store.”
“You’ll regret turning me down.” The suit walked toward the door and caught sight of Mia watching. “Of course, you’d be here. Are you trying to ruin all my business?”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Mia stood back, stunned at the man’s outburst.
“Why would you?” The man glared at her, then stomped around the counter and almost ran out of the store.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NYT and USA Today bestselling author, Lynn Cahoon, writes the Tourist Trap, Cat Latimer and Farm-to-Fork mystery series. Mia and the Kitchen Witch regulars will be bringing their magic to 2020. No matter where the mystery is set, readers can expect a fun ride.
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