Petit Fours to Die For ©2021 by Teresa Ives Lilly
Buns to Die For ©2021 by Darlene Franklin
Scones to Die For ©2021 by Cynthia Hickey
Crumpets to Die For ©2021 by Linda Baten Johnson
Print ISBN 978-1-64352-752-9
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-64352-754-3
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-64352-753-6
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in Canada.
Table of Contents
Petit Fours to Die For
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Buns to Die For
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Scones to Die For
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Crumpets to Die For
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
PETIT FOURS TO DIE FOR
TERESA IVES LILLY
CHAPTER 1
I tied the pink-, green-, and yellow-striped apron around my waist, covering my blue jeans and the solid pink polo shirt that was part of my uniform. The apron made me appear a bit old-fashioned, but that’s how I needed to look if I was going to make this thing work. Taking over the daily running of my grandmother’s tea shoppe, Tea by the Sea, was the last thing I ever expected to do with my life, but I sincerely hoped it would turn out to be the best thing.
None of the many jobs I had in the past suited me at all. Plus, my boyfriend of two years told me he was moving across country, and I wasn’t invited to go along with him. That was the moment I realized there was only one thing to do. I moved to Maine and went to work in Gran’s tea shoppe.
Until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t ready. I thought life in the big city of San Antonio was where I was supposed to be. But, hey! After all the failed jobs and the final straw, a failed relationship, even I understood the writing on the wall. I was meant to be a small-town girl, and you can’t get much smaller than Sea Side, Maine.
Gran always knew that about me, and she’d been waiting patiently. At first, she tried to get her own daughters to help take over the tea shoppe, but they weren’t really small-town girls. When I finally called and asked if I could come to Sea Side, she chuckled over the line and said, “It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for you to come help me run this place for years.”
So, it was settled. I packed what little I owned, shipped it to Maine, hopped on the next flight to the airport nearest Sea Side, and took a bus to the middle of town. Of course not having a car, even in a small town, proved to be a bit of a problem, especially as winter began to set in.
Just thinking about how cold my toes would be every day before I reached the tea shoppe, which was only a few blocks away from the small apartment I’d rented, made me imagine ways to convince Gran how much we needed a company vehicle, one I could use to drive back and forth to work.
At this point, I’d been working at the shop for a full two weeks. At first I was just going over the books, learning how to do the ordering and taking care of payroll. However, Gran wanted me to spend the third week mingling with the customers. No, she didn’t make me a waitress, but she wanted the regulars to meet me and get to know me better. Gran wanted everyone to be comfortable with the change if she ever completely turned over the reins to me.
Gran was a hoot from the moment I arrived. She talked incessantly about writing a cookbook and perfecting English tea. I got the feeling that, even though she was in her seventies, something about one of our customers, Sir Geoffrey, had caused her sudden interest in English tea.
But that was none of my business! Believe me, I wasn’t about to start trying to play Cupid. I couldn’t even keep my own relationship together, and it was just too bad. Jason was handsome, muscular, and a lawyer to boot. He was everything I thought I wanted in a man. There was only one problem: he just didn’t love me.
“I guess the apron looks fine.” I took it off and put it in my purse. Then I tugged on my boots. They were perfect for San Antonio. Chic, the newest fashion in cowboy boots. Here in this little coastal town, I knew I was going to have to exchange them for a pair of warm, fur-lined snow boots. I wished I’d already done that, because it had begun snowing the previous night. The thermometer outside my window told me it was going to be a very cold day.
I slumped my shoulders. It was all part of my problem. I was never in the right place at the right time. Gran said not to worry. “You’re in the perfect place at the perfect time, now that you’re here.” I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as perfection.
As I walked along the freshly shoveled sidewalk in front of the stores from my apartment complex to the corner of Main and Fifth Street, I turned my head to the left and shivered. The ocean, or sea as Gran and most of the old-timers called it, was silent and the bay frozen. It was so majestic, but rather frightening at the same time, to see such power standing still. The morning’s snowfall blanketed the town beautifully. If I weren’t already freezing, I would have stayed outside the shop just to breathe in the clean, frigid air. This was Monday though, and the week was just beginning.
The bell jangled over the front door of the tea shoppe as I pushed it open. Gran was standing behind the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and leaning over the newspaper, pencil in hand. She was crazy about doing crosswords and didn’t even look up when I entered.
“Gran, what are you doing drinking coffee? This is a tea shoppe. What if your customers see you?”
A grin spread across her face. “Georgina, everyone drinks coffee in the morning.” She generally spoke to me in a tone that made me feel more like a child than an adult. “You’re late, by the way. You need to get used to being here before we open at seven.”
I rus
hed across the shop, slipped off my coat, and hung it on a hook in the hallway behind the kitchen door. I could feel my toes, but just barely. As I suspected, they were frozen. When I joined Gran at the front, she looked down at my feet and shook her head. “You’re going to have to get some real boots.”
“These are real boots.” I knew what she was talking about, but arguing with her was always fun.
Gran’s arms were akimbo, her hands pressed into her hips. “Young lady! You may be old enough to take over my tea shoppe, but I think I could still put you over my knee. You haven’t been here during winter for a long time, and you don’t know what you need. I’ll make a list. Later today, you run over to the sporting goods store and get some winter boots, gloves, a better coat, a hat, and a scarf.”
The image that came to mind wasn’t pleasant. “I’ll look like an overdressed snowman.”
“Yep, but you’ll be warm. Besides, you’ll not only be making the baskets for the Victorian Christmas Festival this year, but you’ll be selling them at the event. The festival is held outside on Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. Believe me, you’ll need to be bundled up.”
I stared at her, my mouth gaping. “You’ve got to be kidding!” I imagined my toes turning into ice cubes as I stood outside all day.
“I am not kidding. I’m going to be busy working on my cookbook. This is all part of taking over the shop. I’ve stood outside for the last, oh, I don’t know, twenty years during the Victorian Christmas Festival. I’m ready to give up that job.”
I brushed away what might have been a small crumb from the counter, although we’d left the place sparkling clean the night before. “All right, I’d be happy to stand outside and freeze this year. And, for your information, I had already planned to buy some boots after work today.”
She pretended to frown at me, but her eyes were twinkling. “It’s too early in the morning for your sass.” Gran grabbed her mug and headed back to the kitchen. “I’m leaving things in your hands today. You do remember we need to have the sample tray ready by eleven? The mayor’s secretary is picking it up and taking it to him at city hall. I just hope he likes something we offer. It would do wonders for us to be able to cater his political rally.”
I smiled. Even if she talked about wanting to get away from the tea shoppe, Gran couldn’t help herself from doing what it took to keep it going. She’d been running it for what seemed like forever.
“Not to worry. I plan to send him a tray with three different petit fours, a bun, a scone, and a crumpet. He’s sure to like something, if not everything. Remember, I’ve lived in a big city where there were endless choices. There’s nothing he could get catered in that could taste better than your heavenly creations.”
Gran smirked. “Go on with you now. Flattery won’t get you on my good side. Just make the customers happy, keep the shop running smoothly, and I’ll be content.” She chuckled and walked away.
By eight the shop was beginning to fill with patrons. Even though Gran and I thought tea was for lunch, many customers couldn’t wait that long for our treats. My favorite was our petit fours. We served the usual flavors, except during holidays, when Gran always came up with something extra special. For this winter season, we were serving peppermint chocolate petit fours. They were truly to die for.
The mayor’s sample plate was sitting on the counter. I added the peppermint petit fours, which I’d actually helped Gran make on Friday. Our baker usually made most of the sweets in the shop, but Gran liked to make some of the seasonal specialties. We both knew these would be a favorite during December, so we’d made ten dozen and froze them. I had to wait for the final crumpet the cook was working on before I could put the plastic lid on and seal it.
The room had scattered wooden tables with mismatched wooden chairs set at each one. Everything was painted green, pink, or yellow. Bright colors to bring joy into people’s lives, Gran always said. A small Christmas tree was on each table. That was the extent of decorating Gran would allow in the tea shoppe. She didn’t want to detract from the actual tea shoppe ambience.
The ladies from the local church were sitting at the corner table. I called them the Bible Study Ladies. They came to the shop every Monday and discussed whatever book of the Bible they were studying. They were sweet ladies, like four southern belles. In fact, when I thought about it, I realized they all had southern accents. I made a mental note to find out where they were originally from.
A few college students, cramming for an exam, sat in another corner. A businessman, obviously in no hurry to get back to work, sat sipping a cup of Earl Grey. A mother and daughter, wearing long dresses and Victorian hats, sat at another table having their own private tea party. All in all, a good crowd for a Monday morning.
The bell jangled again. I looked up. A well-built, dark-haired man with a deep scowl entered and stomped up to the counter, his face almost buried in his parka.
“Are you sending the mayor samples today?” His voice boomed across the shop.
I frowned. What business was it of his? I looked around for Gran, wondering if orders were private.
“You don’t have to answer. I can see it on your face.” He glanced around. “Is this the order then?” He pointed at the sample tray. I couldn’t help but nod.
“Grrr.” A bear-like growl escaped his lips. “The mayor knew I was planning to have Tea by the Sea cater my political campaign party. He got the jump on me though. Now I’ll have to search for something else.”
So, this was Don Johnson, the mayor’s opponent in the upcoming mayoral race. I stared at him openly. He wasn’t handsome, but he had a stubborn chin. I liked him. I’d met the mayor a week ago, when he came in and ordered the tray. Gran talked about him as if he were God’s gift to the town, but I didn’t see it. To me, the current mayor seemed arrogant. Don Johnson was angry now, but he didn’t appear to have the same aura as the mayor.
Just then, the cook called me from the back. The crumpets were ready. I placed a paper towel over the other treats on the sample tray and turned away. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Mr. Johnson shook his shaggy head back and forth and huffed. “Doesn’t matter now. I can’t serve the same thing as the mayor. Guess I’d better search the internet to find something for my rally.”
I barely heard the last words because I’d stepped into the kitchen. The cook had the crumpets lined up on a tray. I slipped one onto a napkin and carried it back to the front. It had only taken a minute or so, but Don Johnson was gone when I returned.
I placed the crumpet onto the tray and put a plastic lid over the samples, then grabbed a few pieces of scotch tape and secured the four sides. If the mayor’s secretary decided to sample the goods before she got them to him, I wanted to make it a little more difficult for her.
Now all I had to do was wait for her to show up.
The Bible Study Ladies were waving, trying to get my attention. I wiped my hands on my striped apron and hurried over to their table.
“Morning, ladies. Is there anything I can do for you? Your waitress should be right over.”
Savannah, the youngest of the group, probably in her early fifties, grabbed my hand. “My dear, we are so glad to see you,” she drawled. “We wanted to tell you. We just know you are the answer to your Gran’s prayers.”
“Gran prays?” I gasped then slapped my hand over my mouth. Of course Gran prayed. She attended church on a weekly basis, but I always thought her relationship with God was, well, private.
“Your grandmother has been telling us for years about how she wanted you to come and take over the shop. We’ve lifted her request up to the Lord many times, and here you are, a true answer to prayer.”
The four of them nodded in unison.
I didn’t feel like the answer to anyone’s prayers.
Charlotte cleared her throat. She was the oldest of them. I guesstimated she was at least seventy-eight, perhaps older. My eyes met hers. She winked. “Now, we just need to continue praying for you to find a h
usband.”
CHAPTER 2
I slipped away from the Bible Study Ladies as quickly as I could that day. They were a sweet group of women and meant well, but the whole praying for me to find Mr. Right wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with them. Unbeknownst to me until I arrived in town, Gran had been reading my letters out loud to all the regular customers for the last few years, so everyone knew about my unsuccessful jobs and failed relationship.
For the first week I worked at the shop, anyone who’d ever heard one of the letters had offered me their sympathy, and several mentioned their single sons, brothers, or cousins as possible dates for me. The Bible Study Ladies were the worst. They always made a display of patting my hand and telling me how the Lord had someone just perfect for me. After these two weeks, it was pretty obvious. They’d decided to personally take over the job of finding Mr. Right for me.
When I reached the counter, the bell over the front door jangled. I wondered if after a few months I would even notice the sound anymore.
I looked up. It was Phyllis Gates, the mayor’s secretary. She was a petite woman who always seemed to be bustling around. I guessed she was about forty-two, with gray and white beginning to take over what was once mousy brown hair.
This morning she looked rather disheveled and even more rushed than usual. Her faux fur coat gaped open.
“Good morning, Phyllis. I’ve got the samples for the mayor right here.” I pointed at the covered tray.
She eyed it critically and sniffed. “Hmm. Personally, I thought the mayor should do something a bit fancier. I suggested a full high noon tea, but would he take my advice?”
I stared at her, not sure if I was supposed to answer or not. Based on her rampage, I didn’t think so.
“No! Of course not, he doesn’t E-V-E-R”—she spelled it out—“take my advice. To him I’m just someone who should be seen at my desk, typing and filing, but never heard.” She actually stomped her foot to emphasize her statement.
Gran insisted I sympathize with the customers, so I reached a hand across the counter and patted hers the way the Bible Study Ladies did mine. She instantly pulled back as if I’d stung her.
The Tea Shoppe Mysteries Page 1
