by Bree Baker
Across the room, Denise helped Denver wrap cookie platters and dessert trays in brightly colored plastic wrap. Others set the wrapped sweets on top of the packed bags heading out for delivery.
Grady darted in and out through the foyer, loading the waiting cars.
To my surprise, Senator Denver had arrived early and taken up a post near the door. She’d assigned herself the role of forewoman, directing bodies and keeping volunteers on task. She did these things with a smile.
Denise left Denver with the cookie trays and cut through the crowd to the counter. She looked as young and strikingly beautiful as usual. For the first time since I’d met her, I wondered if she was happy here and if she could be long-term. Could she meet someone and fall in love on our little island? Was love something she wanted? I made a mental note to reach out to her more often. She deserved a break sometimes. Some laughs or a drink with friends.
I smiled at her sweater as she approached. An image of Charlie Brown stood proudly beside his pitiful little tree, one red bulb hanging precariously from the bowed limb.
“We’re almost out of desserts,” she said. “Should Denver and I move to another station, or do you have more cookies back there somewhere?”
I pointed at the stack of bakery boxes near my fridge. “Those are full of cutouts, sugar cookies, and fudge. Believe it or not, I have more of everything else in the freezer.” I wiped my hands on my apron, then pulled another mass of sweets out to defrost. “Thank you for being here,” I said.
She smiled. “We wouldn’t have missed it. Though, maybe you could reward our hard work with a new cookie-making video. Denver’s itching to get back in the kitchen. It wasn’t easy for him, being the new kid on a small island, but we bring cookies to his class weekly now, and the other kids love him.”
I laughed.
She loaded the bakery boxes into her arms. “Your cookies are changing lives.”
Grady jogged inside, dusting snow from his hat and shoulders. His eyes sought mine immediately, the way they had continually tonight.
Denise shot me a little cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before sailing back to Denver with the cookies.
Grady made his way in my direction.
And I in his.
“You doing okay?” he asked, pulling the cowboy hat from his head.
“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you for helping. For bringing Denise and Denver. And your mother-in-law.” I tipped my head in her direction.
“She saw your note on the tree,” he said. “I can’t take any credit there, and Denise and Denver wouldn’t have missed this. I’m just here for the lemon cake.”
I laughed at the not-so-subtle reminder of his favorite dish. “Oh, I have your lemon cake,” I said, a furious blush rushing across my cheeks. “It’s upstairs. I only made one, and I didn’t want it to be accidentally shipped off with a delivery.”
Grady smiled. “Well, I’d love to come up and get it when we’re done here. Maybe we can share the first slice.”
“I’d like that,” I said, pushing a swath of hair behind my ear.
“You got bangs,” he said, scanning the change.
I waited while he made his evaluation, knowing I shouldn’t care, and caring so much I almost asked what he thought.
“I like them,” he said finally, brushing the strands carefully aside.
I cleared my throat and fought against the heat wave rolling over me. “Has there been any more news on Janie?” I asked. The holidays had slowed things at the courthouse, but I knew she’d been transferred to the mainland this morning. Charm simply wasn’t equipped to hold anyone for an extended length of time, and Janie would likely be behind bars for quite a while.
“We’ve got an airtight case,” Grady said, pride curving his lips. “I thought I had the killer when I left you at the hospital that day. We matched the SUV leaving the fire to one that had been at the post office the day your first threat letter was mailed.”
“Lanita’s SUV,” I said, knowing how that story went.
“Janie was smart not to use her own car,” Grady said. “Smart not to use an established local transportation service too, but she sealed her fate when she called Lanita for those Pick-Me-Ups. That kid keeps better records than half the businesses in town, and she’s only here for winter break. She’d already pointed me in Janie’s direction when Wyatt called.” His smile faded. “I hate getting those calls.”
“Sorry,” I said.
He reached for me with one arm and pulled me a few more steps in his direction. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you,” I said. “And Wyatt.”
Grady’s smile slipped again. “I owe that guy.”
“Me too.”
He tracked Aunt Fran across the room with his gaze. I watched with him as she stopped to talk to Senator Denver, then the women laughed. “Is she still running for mayor next year?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said. “What about your mother-in-law?”
He pulled me a few more steps toward the café’s threshold. “I think she might give that a rest.”
“If you help find her husband?” I guessed.
He nodded.
Lanita opened the front door and stomped snow off her boots. “I’m back for another round of meals,” she called out. “Are there more ready to go?”
An older couple manifested beside Grady and I, hurrying packed bags to her hands.
“Be careful out there,” I told her.
She saluted before vanishing back into the night.
“I’m going to miss her,” I said, turning back to Grady, who’d moved closer while I wasn’t looking. The scent of his cologne and warmth of his body lightened my head until the busyness around us faded.
When he spoke, there was heat in his usually brooding eyes. “Every family on the island is going to have a feast tonight because of you,” he said.
“Not just me,” I said. “Look around. This is possible because of our neighbors, their families, our friends. You.”
He shook his head and latched his hands to the small of my back, towing me in until the toes of our shoes bumped. “This is all you, Swan. These people love you, and they followed your lead tonight. You did good.”
My cheeks heated at the compliment. The rest of me heated at his touch. I tipped my head back and rolled my eyes up to the mistletoe hanging above us. “What about you?” I asked. “I followed your lead all the way to the mistletoe. Now what are you going to do about it?”
Something warm and bright flashed in his eyes, but Grady didn’t look up. He’d known exactly where he’d been taking me. “Merry Christmas, Everly,” he said softly as he lowered his mouth to mine.
Simple Swan Family Recipes Fit for a Holiday Gathering!
Simple Caesar Salad
Ingredients:
2 hearts romaine lettuce
1 English (seedless) cucumber, chopped
1 cup grape tomato halves
1 cup creamy Caesar dressing
1 cups Italian-seasoned croutons, crushed
Directions:
Wash romaine and separate into leaves.
Arrange cucumber and tomato evenly on leaves.
Drizzle with dressing.
Sprinkle with croutons.
Serve!
Gingerbread Bars
Ingredients:
1 pouch of your favorite sugar cookie mix
¼ cup all-purpose flour
½ cup butter, softened
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons light molasses
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
¾ teaspoon ground allspice
½ teaspoon ground cloves
Your favorite cream cheese frosting
Directions:
Prepare a 9-by-13
pan with cooking spray.
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Place all ingredients in medium bowl and mix well.
Spread resulting (thick) batter in pan and bake approximately 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool completely before frosting.
Ice cooled bars with cream cheese frosting and sprinkle with additional cinnamon.
Refrigerate before serving.
Cranberry Christmas Iced Tea
Ingredients:
6 cups cranberry juice cocktail
4 tea bags black tea
6–12 mint leaves
6 tablespoons sugar
Directions:
Heat cranberry juice cocktail to boiling.
Remove from heat. Add tea bags and mint.
Steep 10 minutes.
Strain.
Stir in sugar.
Chill and serve over ice.
Read on for a look at Book #1 in the Seaside Café Mysteries series
Chapter One
“Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea.” I perked up at the precious sound of seashell wind chimes bouncing and tinkling against the front door of my new café. “I’ll be right with you.”
A pair of ladies in windbreakers and capri pants smoothed their windblown hair and examined the seating options. Sounds of the sea had followed them inside, amplified briefly by the opening door.
I bopped my head to a Temptations song and tapped the large sweet tea jug behind the counter. Until three months ago, owning and operating an iced tea shop on the shore of my hometown had been nothing more than a childish dream. I’d thought being a grown-up meant working a job I hated while wearing uncomfortable clothes, so I’d toed the line for a while, but my looming thirtieth birthday and a broken heart had changed all that.
Now I did what I wanted—in comfy clothes for significantly less money, but at least I could wear flip-flops.
I set a lidless canning jar of Old-Fashioned Sun Tea in front of the man sitting at my counter and beamed. “Let me know if I can fix you anything else, Sam.”
He frowned at his phone, too engrossed or distracted to answer. Sam Smart was a local real estate agent. He’d arrived in Charm during the years I’d been away from home, and from what I could tell, he was a type-A, all-stress all-day kind of guy—a little sweet tea was probably just what he needed. I nudged the jar closer until his hand swept out to meet it. “Thanks.”
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He flicked his gaze to mine, then back to his phone. “It’s Paine.” He shook his head and groaned.
“Ah.” I grabbed a thin stack of napkins and patted Sam’s shoulder on my way to welcome the newcomers. “Good luck with that.”
Benedict Paine had been a thorn in my side since the day I’d approached our town council about adding a café to the first floor of my new seaside home. Owning a sweet-tea shop was my dream come true, and honestly, I couldn’t afford the house’s mortgage payments without the business income. Despite the home’s fixer-upper condition, the price tag had been astronomical, making the café a must, and Mr. Paine had fought me the entire way, complaining that adding a business to a residential property would drag down the neighborhood. I could only imagine the kind of headache a man like Paine could cause a real estate agent.
The space that was now my café stretched through the entire south side of the first floor. Walls had been strategically knocked out, opening the kitchen and formal dining area up to a large space for entertaining. The result was a stunning seaside setup, perfect for my shop.
From the kitchen, a private hallway led to the rest of the first floor and another thousand or so square feet of potential expansion space. A staircase off that hall provided passage to my second-floor living quarters, which were just as big and full of potential. The stairs themselves were amazing, stained a faded red, with delicate carvings along the edges. They were mine alone to enjoy, shut off from the café by a locking door. I could probably thank the home’s history as a boarding house for my substantial second-floor kitchen. The cabinets and fixtures were all older than me, but I couldn’t complain—the café kitchen was what mattered, and it was fantastic.
Seating at Sun, Sand, and Tea was a hodgepodge of repainted garage sale and thrift shop finds. Twenty seats in total, five at the counter and fifteen scattered across the wide-planked, whitewashed floor, ranging from padded wicker numbers with low tables to tall bistro sets along the perimeter.
The ladies had selected a high table near a wall of windows overlooking my deck.
I refreshed my smile and set a napkin in front of each of them. “Hello. Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea.”
They dragged their attention slowly away from the rolling waves and driftwood-speckled beach beyond the glass, reluctant to part with the amazing view for even a second.
“Can I get something started for you?”
The taller woman settled tortoiseshell glasses onto the ridge of her sunburned nose and fixed her attention to the café menu, scripted on an enormous blackboard covering the far wall. “Do you really make twenty flavors of iced tea?”
“Yes, ma’am. Plus a daily array of desserts and finger foods.” The selection changed without notice, sometimes with the tide, depending on if I ran out of any necessary ingredients.
“Fascinating. I came in for some good old-fashioned sweet tea, but now you’ve got me wondering about the Country Cranberry Hibiscus. What’s in that?” She leaned her elbows on the tabletop and twined her fingers.
“Well, there—there’s black tea, hibiscus, and, uh, rose hips, and cranberries.” I stammered over the answer to her question the same way I had to similar inquiries on a near-daily basis since opening my café doors. It seemed a fine line between serving my family’s secret recipes and sharing them ingredient by ingredient.
The woman glanced out the window again and pressed a palm to her collarbone as a massive gull flapped to a stop on the handrail outside the window. “Dear!”
“Oh, there’s Lou,” I said.
“Lou?”
“I think he came with the house.”
She lowered her hand, but kept one eye on Lou. “I’ll try the Cranberry Hibiscus,” she said. “What about you, Margo?”
Her friend pursed her lips. “Make mine Summer Citrus Mint, and I’d like to try your crisp cucumber sandwich.”
I formed an “okay” sign with my fingers and winked. “Give me just a quick minute, and I’ll get that over here for you.”
I strode back to the counter, practically vibrating with excitement. After only a month in business, each customer’s order was still a thrill for me.
The seashell wind chimes kicked into gear again and I responded on instinct. “Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea.” I turned on my toes for a look at the newest guest and my stomach dropped. “Oh, hello, Mr. Paine.” I shot a warning look at Sam, whose head drooped lower over his tea.
“Miss Swan.” Mr. Paine straddled a stool three seats down from Sam and set his straw porkpie hat on the counter. Tufts of white hair stretched east and west from the spaces below his bald spot and above each ear. “Lovely day.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. “Can I get you anything?”
“Please,” he drawled, giving Sam a thorough once-over. It wasn’t clear if he already knew Sam was mad at him, or if he was figuring that out from the silent treatment.
I waited, knowing what the next words out of Mr. Paine’s mouth were going to be.
Reluctantly, he pulled his attention back to me. “How about a list of all your ingredients?”
Sam rolled his small brown eyes, but otherwise continued to ignore Mr. Paine’s presence.
I grabbed a knife and a loaf of fresh-baked bread and set them on the counter. “You know I can’t give that to you, Mr. Paine. Something else, perhaps?” I’d been through this a dozen times with hi
m since Sun, Sand, and Tea’s soft opening. Swan women had guarded our tea recipes for a hundred years, and I wasn’t about to hand them over just because he said so. “How about a glass of tea instead?”
I cut two thin slices from the loaf, then whacked the crusts off with unnecessary oomph.
Sam took a long pull on his drink, stopping only when there was nothing left but ice, and returned the jar to the counter with a thump. “It’s very good,” he said, turning to stare at Mr. Paine. “You should try it. I mean, if you’d had it your way, this place wouldn’t even be open, right? Seems like the least you can do is find out what you were protesting.”
I didn’t bother to mention that Mr. Paine had already tried basically every item on the menu as I plied him with free samples to try to get in his good graces.
Mr. Paine frowned, first at Sam, then at me. Wrinkles raced across his pale, sun-spotted face. “It’s a health and safety issue,” he groused. “People need to know what they’re drinking.”
“Yes.” I arranged cucumber slices on one piece of bread. “I believe you’ve mentioned that.” It had, in fact, been his number one argument since I’d gotten the green light to open. “I’m happy to provide a general list of ingredients for each recipe, but there are certain herbs and spices, as well as brewing methods, that are trade secrets.”
“He doesn’t care about any of that,” Sam said. “He just wants to get his way.”
Mr. Paine twisted on his stool to glare at Sam. “Whatever your problem is, Sam Smart, it’s not with me, so stow it.”
Sam shoved off his stool. “And your problem isn’t with her.” He grabbed the gray suit jacket from the stool beside him and threaded his arms into the sleeves. “Thanks for the tea, Everly.” He tossed a handful of dollar bills onto the counter and a remorseful look in my direction.
I worked to close my slack jaw as the front door slapped shut behind him. Whatever grudge match Sam and Mr. Paine had going, I didn’t want a ticket for it. I put the unused cucumber slices away and removed a white ceramic bowl from the fridge.
