by Lynn Cahoon
They looked at each other, then nodded. “Family comes first. We want to know, even if it’s bad news.”
“It’s bad news for someone.” Ian grinned. “They caught Jane, and she told them that they’d never find Charles and he wasn’t involved anyway. She confessed to kidnapping Abigail and Susan and dumping Abigail’s body. She said they’d been in Charles’s way. Apparently, she was taking care of his dirty work.”
“She did this for him?” Angie shook her head. “She’d have to be crazy.”
“Uncle Allen is betting on that. But since she confessed and they have her confession on tape, he thinks she’s going away somewhere for a very long time.” He grinned. “And they picked up Charles at the airport with a ticket to Mexico. Apparently he thought he needed a bit of a vacation from his wife.”
“Does Allen have anything on him?” Angie asked after taking a sip of her wine. This was a great day.
“Charles definitely hired those guys to break into your houses. Both of them identified him, but they didn’t know who Jane was. And according to what Jon told you, Allen thinks there may be more dirty deeds in the guy’s past. He just needs to uncover them.”
Estebe refilled everyone’s glasses. “To justice, and to having the world back to normal.”
As they clinked, Angie thought they needed one more good day to make the world a better place. She prayed they could pull it off. She held her glass up again after taking a sip and smiled. “To happiness.”
* * * *
The County Seat had the front doors open when Ian and Barb stopped by right at 1 p.m. on Monday.
“Angie shouldn’t leave this door open. It gives people the wrong idea, like the place is open or something. No one reads signs anymore,” Barb groused as they came into the fully lit dining room. Bleak stood at the hostess station and nodded to them.
“Mrs. Travis, how nice to see you. Maggie sends her love and said to tell you that she’ll be at the hospital waiting for you on the day of surgery.” Bleak gave the surprised Barb a quick hug. “She’s pushy like that. Always getting into your business, but sometimes it’s kind of nice.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet.” Barb squeezed Bleak tightly, then awkwardly patted her back.
“She really is amazing. She’s taking me dress shopping later. I’m going to the winter formal. It’s no big thing.” Bleak wiped her face and the tears away as she stepped away from Barb. “Angie said I was supposed to seat you here at the window.”
“You said we were here to pick up some meals to put in my freezer for after the surgery, not to eat lunch,” Barb growled at Ian before she turned and followed Bleak. “Maggie is a very caring woman. You’re lucky to have her in your life. But tell her she doesn’t need to bother waiting at the hospital. I won’t need a ride home for a few days, and I can call a taxi or an Uber, like you young people like to use.”
Bleak laughed as she set down glasses and filled them with water from a pitcher that had been sitting nearby. “I don’t think that will do any good, but I’ll try. And yes, I am lucky a lot of people are in my life now. You are too.”
As she walked away, Barb glared at Ian. “Don’t tell me this is a ‘be happy you’re alive’ intervention. I’m just having surgery, for gosh sakes. I don’t need all this fanfare.”
“Then just see it as a lunch.” Ian grinned at her and sipped his water. “The menu’s kind of set, but do you want a glass of wine or a drink?”
“I want a beer. In a freaking bottle,” Barb groused.
Jeorge arrived by her side with a chilled bottle of the light beer Barb favored and a glass of soda for Ian. “If this isn’t acceptable, I can list off what we have in stock.”
Barb nodded and took the bottle. “This is just fine. Thank you.”
Jeorge disappeared, and Bleak came back with a basket of rolls and a plate of loaded potato skins. She set both down and paused. “Do you want something else? More sour cream? More bacon?”
Barb shook her head. “This is fine.”
“It smells wonderful. Thanks, Bleak,” Ian added.
A couple walked past the window and came inside.
Barb placed a potato skin on her plate, then cut off a bite with her fork. She pointed to the people in the hallway. “See, I told you, no one reads the signs anymore. Now that child is going to have to disappoint them by letting them know the place is closed. A locked door does that just fine.”
Ian stood and picked up his glass. “I think they’re coming to see you.”
He set his drink on another table and then added a chair next to Barb. When he moved out of the way, Susan and Jon stood in front of Barb.
“May I sit?” Susan asked.
“Sure, sit down.” Barb’s face paled. “You shouldn’t be out. You just got out of the hospital.”
Susan sank into the chair Jon pulled out for her and then pointed to the empty chair. “Please join us.”
Jon shook his head. “I will in a few minutes for dinner. But right now, you need to talk to your mother. I’ll be over at the bar if you need anything.”
Susan nodded and turned back to Barb. She leaned toward the breadbasket and groaned. “I haven’t eaten fresh bread in years. May I have a piece?”
“Of course. Don’t eat too much, you’ve just had an ordeal.”
“As long as it’s not a protein bar, I’m good. I don’t think I can ever eat one again.” Susan laughed as she took a roll. “And calling it an ‘ordeal,’ well, that’s an understatement. You’ve kept up on what’s been going on?”
Barb nodded, handing her the butter. “Of course I have. I don’t know if you remember, but Karen was my sister.”
“And my aunt. I know, she told me before she died. I think I always knew. I mean, I have memories of you and me in a car going to get ice cream.” She took a bite of the roll and groaned. “I’m never giving up bread again. This is too good.”
Barb buttered a roll and took a bite. “The woman who runs this place is a very good cook. And a good person.”
“Mom—I mean Karen—gave me a good life. You didn’t have to worry about that,” Susan said, setting the roll down and reaching for the other glass of water. “I just wish we’d been more connected.”
“I was wild. I missed you, but I told myself you were better off. I’ll understand if you hate me.” Barb put a loaded baked potato on Susan’s plate. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about what’s important lately.” Susan put a hand on Barb’s and met her gaze. “There’s nothing I want more than to have you in my life. I’m here for you while you go through this. You have family.”
“You don’t need to…”
Susan squeezed her hand. “I know that. I want to. Besides, we can help take care of each other.”
The kitchen doors opened, and Angie walked out with Estebe. He was carrying a tray with several dishes. She paused at the table and smiled at Susan. Angie reached down and hugged her gently. “I’m Angie. I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve plated up the dinner family style. I thought it was appropriate.”
Jon came over and sat down at the table. He put a glass of wine in front of Susan and a cup of coffee in front of his plate. “Are we ready to eat?”
Susan smiled at him and nodded. “Jon, do you know my mother?”
He nodded and reached over to shake Barb’s hand. “I’ve met her a couple of times, but this is the first time I can say it’s a pleasure.”
Barb reddened, shaking his hand. “Sorry I broke into your house.”
Jon stared at her as she dished up some of the mashed potatoes. She didn’t meet his gaze.
“Barb, tell me about the Red Eye. What’s it like to run a saloon?” Susan didn’t miss a beat, dishing up a chicken marsala on her plate and passing the platter to Jon.
Angie and Estebe left the table and went b
ack to where Felicia and Ian sat at the bar. “Set up plates, and I’ll bring out the food.” Estebe nodded to Bleak. “You’re eating with us, right?”
“I can’t miss a family meal.” She grinned at Angie. “I love working here.”
Jeorge got everyone drinks, and Angie kept an eye out on the other family who was eating together by the window. For the first time. From the laughter and smiles, it looked like Barb and Sunny were making up for lost time.
Felicia and Bleak were talking about her ring. And Jeorge and Estebe were chatting about next year’s BSU Broncos team and their chances to break out for a championship.
Ian rubbed her arm. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Bleak had it right. This is a family meal. And I’m so blessed to have all of you in my life.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “I think the blessing is on us and how you came into our lives. I love you, Angie Turner.”
Angie kissed him, then they both rejoined the conversation. Life, love, and a future. It was a great Monday.
Recipe
When I was thinking about the recipe for this book, I wanted something from my past. A memory. The way a dish tastes or a memory of a meal stays with you. I made brownies while I was editing this and almost went with that recipe, since the rich chocolate taste is still in my mouth. Instead, I give you a childhood treat. Quick cookies were probably the first cookies I learned to make. And the ones I messed up, more often than not. The secret is in the chocolate mixture you cook on the stove. Cook it too long, and your cookies will turn into a crumble (that’s really good over vanilla ice cream—not all failures have to be trashed). Not cooked long enough, and the cookies won’t set. You want a soft ball stage for the chocolate. Drop a bit into a glass of water and reach in. If it turns into a ball, you’re ready to stir it into the oats.
Quick Cookies
2 cups sugar
2 tbsp cocoa
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup butter
Cook these ingredients in a heavy saucepan on the stove, boiling for 3–4 minutes.
Pour the chocolate mixture into a large bowl with the following mixed together:
3 cups oatmeal
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 tbsp vanilla
Optional: 1/2 bag of miniature marshmallows
Drop onto a greased cookie sheet to set.
Yum.
Love Lynn Cahoon?
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Don’t miss the rest of the books in the
Farm-to-Fork series
And be sure to try the
Tourist Trap Mysteries
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Cat Latimer Mysteries
And keep reading for a sneak peek
at
ONE POISON PIE
The first full-length book in
the newest series
from Lynn Cahoon:
The Kitchen Witch Mysteries
coming soon from
Kensington Books
Chapter 1
Karma sucks.
Mia Malone slapped the roller filled with cottage yellow paint on the wall. She’d missed another spot. Her lack of attention was one more thing on the long list of karma credits she could blame on her ex, Isaac.
If karma didn’t smack down the lowlife soon, she had several ideal spells just waiting to be used on the rat. Maybe he’d like to develop a rash? Or be turned into a toad to match his true personality? A line of yellow paint dripped off the roller and onto the scratched wood floor.
She set the roller in the paint pan and with a rag, wiped up the paint before it could dry. Maybe a run would be more productive right now. She could burn off this pent-up energy tingling her fingers. Teasing her with all the curses she could inflict.
She took a deep, calming breath. Magic came back threefold. She needed to control her impulses, keeping her anger in check. As much as she wanted Isaac to pay for his betrayal, she didn’t need any help in the bad luck department. Sighing, she sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the half-painted schoolroom and tried to envision her new life.
A noise echoed through the empty schoolhouse. Had the door opened?
“Mia,” her grandmother called. “Are you here, dear?”
“To your left, Grans.” Mia stood and dusted off the butt of her worn jeans, imagining dusting off Isaac and his bad energy at the same time. Keeping her karma clean seemed to be a full-time job since she’d left Boise.
Mary Alice Carpenter, tall and willowy, stood in the doorway to the foyer. The curl in her short gray hair was the only physical trait Grans and Mia shared. Mia stood a good five inches shorter than the older woman, and Mia’s curves would have made her prime model material, oh, about a hundred years ago.
Besides her curly hair, she’d inherited power from her maternal grandmother. While her mother had turned away from the lure of magic, choosing instead the life of a corporate lawyer’s wife, Mia had embraced her heritage.
Her grandmother took one look at her and groaned. “I knew he wouldn’t stay gone. That boy is worse than spilt milk. You just can’t get rid of the smell.”
“I can handle Isaac.” Mia gave her grandmother a hug. “You don’t need to worry about him.”
Grans’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, dear? I’ve done a few transmutations in my time that might be quite appropriate.”
Mia bit back a laugh and glanced around the large room. “Seriously, don’t get involved. That part of my life is over. I’ve made a fresh start.”
“You’ve bought a run-down money pit that’s going to bankrupt you, just trying to keep the place warm.” A second woman followed her grandmother into the room, shoving a cell phone into her Coach bag. “Sorry, had to take that. Apparently, my long-lost nephew is gracing us with his presence at my birthday party. Probably needs money.”
“Adele, so nice to see you.” Mia managed to choke out after a death stare from her grandmother.
Adele Simpson stood next to Grans and glanced around the room, noticeable disgust covering her face. “Mary Alice, this is what you fought so hard with the board to save?”
“The building should be on the historic register. You and I both know it would have already been protected if it sat in the Sun Valley city limits. Magic Springs is always an afterthought with the historical commission.” Grans slipped off her down coat that had made her look like a stuffed panda.
Mia watched the women bicker. Adele, the meanest woman in Magic Springs, was the dark to Grans’s light, and for some unbeknownst reason, Grans’s best friend. She was also Mia’s first and only client for her new venture. So far, she amended.
Gritting her teeth, Mia forced her lips into what she hoped was a passable smile. “Ladies, welcome to Mia’s Morsels.” She glanced around the room, sweeping her arm as she turned. “Currently, you’re in the reception area, where staff and students will gather before classes and where we’ll do most of the daily work scheduling. Here, customers will be able to sample dishes and peruse a weekly menu of available meals.”
“You sound like a commercial,” Grans chided. “It’s just us. You don’t have to put on the sales pitch.”
Mia smiled. “Just trying it out. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I can even think about opening.” She nodded to the half-painted wall. “Do you like the color?”
Her grandmother nodded. “It’s friendly without being obnoxiously bright, like so many buildings. Daycare colors have swept through the decorating studios. I swear, the new crop of interior designers has no sense of style or class.”
“Fredrick just did Helen Marcum’s living room in pink.” Adele sniffed. “The room looks like an antacid commercial. I swear the woman shows her hillbilly roots every time she makes a decision.”
“I don’t believe Helen’s southern, dear.” Grans focuse
d back on Mia, closing her eyes for a second. “Color holds a lot of power. Pull out your books before you go too far. Although, if I remember, yellow represents the digestive system.”
Mia loved listening to her grandmother talk about the representations of power. Being kitchen witches was different than being Wiccan, or what normal people would think of when you said the word ‘witch.’ They didn’t wear black pointy hats or fly around the moon. Mia’s magic was more about the colors, the food, the process of making a house a home. That was one of the reasons her career choice was such a natural extension of her life. Food made people happy. She liked being around happy people. Sometimes magic was that easy.
“You are not doing woo-woo magic stuff again, are you, Mary Alice?” Adele shook her head. “Next you’ll be telling the girl to open on a full moon and wave around a dead cat.”
Grans looked horrified at her friend. “I would never tell her to desecrate an animal that way. We’ve been friends for over forty years. You should know better.”
“Oh, go fly your broomstick.”
Grans and Adele had been the swing votes on the board allowing Mia to purchase the property, based on her pledge to save the building’s history. The losing bidder had presented a plan to bulldoze the school and replace it with a high-end retail mall. Instead, Mia had a place to start over. Grans always said the best way to get a man out of your head was to change your routine.
Mia might have gone a little overboard.
Her arms and back ached from painting. Another two, three hours, the room would be done. Then she could move on to the kitchen, the heart of her dream. Right now, all she wanted was to clean up the paint supplies and return to her upstairs apartment for a long soak in the claw-foot tub. The unexpected visitors had her skin tingling, a sure sign nothing good was about to happen.
Catering Adele’s birthday party had been an order more than a request, even though her business wouldn’t be completely up and running for a month or so. The planning for the event had gone smoothly, like an aged Southern whiskey. The final prep list for Saturday’s party sat finished on her kitchen table in the apartment. James, the chef at the Lodge, had allowed her time to prep in his kitchen tomorrow evening. By Sunday, she’d have a successful reference in the books for Mia’s Morsels. Now, without warning, the triumph she’d hoped for was slipping through her fingers.
