"Yes, Lola is the woman I've been chatting with about furnishing the inn, but your mention of my good nose reminded me of something. In one of our email exchanges, I may or may not have mentioned that I had helped the local police solve a few murder mysteries."
"You may or may not have mentioned it?" He pushed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.
"All right, I definitely mentioned it but only because Lola had written an email letting me know that she would be traveling to Firefly Junction with her best friend, Lacey Pinkerton." I put up my hand before the obvious question could be asked. "And, no, she's not related to that Pinkerton. It was the first thing I asked. Nevertheless, even without the family ties, it turns out Lacey is somewhat of an amateur detective, just like me." I smiled smugly and took a bite of sandwich.
"You're not a detective. You're an overly curious journalist who sticks her cute nose into the occasional dangerous situation." I chewed quickly to respond and defend myself but he beat me to it. "However, I will gladly and proudly admit, since you are my girlfriend, you are highly skilled at solving tough murders."
I swallowed and washed it down with a swig of the peach tea he'd bought me. "Thank you, although, that sort of makes me a detective, doesn't it?" I asked hopefully.
"Nope. Just like me writing up a report for the chief doesn't make me a journalist."
I deflated some. "Guess you've got me there. Anyhow, back to her nose."
"Whose nose?" Jackson asked.
The two women had hopped off the trail and were heading back to their car for more decorations. The tall brunette seemed to recognize Detective Jackson. She leaned over and said something to her friend. They chirruped and giggled in a short huddle before returning to their task.
I turned back to Jackson. "Something tells me they'd be just fine having Detective Jackson as their high priest. What exactly does a high priest do, anyhow?"
His shoulders looked extra broad in his suit as he shrugged. "No idea. So, whose nose?"
"Oh, right. From what Lola told me, Lacey has a unique ability when it comes to solving crimes. She has something called—" I paused and dug my phone out of my purse to look it up. I pulled up Lola's email. "Hyperosmia. Her olfactory cells, the ones we use to smell things, are hypersensitive."
"Yep, I know all about olfactory cells," he said.
"Well, it seems she can smell the faintest traces of scents, even enough to distinguish them from one another. She has solved several crimes with her talented nose."
He mulled that information over and tilted his head side to side. "I can see where that might come in handy. Does she work for the police?"
"No, she's a florist."
He laughed. "Wait, so the town she lives in lets the local florist solve murders?"
I smiled. "That's where the real kicker comes in. It just so happens Lacey is dating the local detective. Sound familiar?"
"Eerily, yes."
I sighed. "Only Lacey's boyfriend allows her to accompany him to crime scenes. She works in an unofficial slash official capacity."
He squinted one eye shut as he looked at me. "Your point?"
"No point." A leaf broke free from an overhead branch and gently swished back and forth in the air before coming to rest on the top of my tea. I picked it up and twirled it around. "Obviously, Lacey's boyfriend thinks higher of her sleuthing skills than a certain detective on this side of the country."
He stared across the picnic table at me. "I'm afraid to say anything on the grounds that it might incriminate me. Or, at the very least, get me in trouble."
I waved at him. "Nope, no incrimination and no trouble. Obviously—"
"That's the second time you've used the word obviously and it didn't work out too well for me the first time so I'm going to cut you off, stand up, lean over, kiss your ordinary, everyday cute nose—" He paused to carry through his plan and then straightened, looming over our table like a tall model from a men's suit catalog. "Then I'm going to say good-bye. I've got to get back to the courthouse. That reminds me—" He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out three pieces of lemon taffy. He tossed the treats on the table.
"Hmm, lemon taffy, my favorite." I picked up a piece and began to untwist the wax paper. "Guess I'll forgive you for not taking my detective skills seriously since you remembered pickles and taffy."
"You're definitely easy to please." He circled around to my side of the bench, pushed my chin up with two fingers and pressed a light kiss on my lips. "See you later, Bluebird."
Chapter 3
Occasionally, life's timing worked out beautifully. Lola had texted that they had gotten a rental car and that they were heading toward Cider Ridge Inn. Ursula had needed Friday morning off for a dental appointment and Henry decided to play a few rounds of golf, so other than a certain someone and the two dogs, I had the house to myself.
After hearing that the first quiche had vanished like snow on a hot day, Emily had generously offered to bake me a second one for my guests. The savory, smoky, buttery aroma filled the kitchen as I squeezed some fresh orange juice. I wondered briefly if Lacey and her extraordinary nose would know exactly what was cooking in the kitchen before they even reached the front stoop.
"You certainly are flitting about like a busy bee this morning," Edward noted as he took hold of two oranges to practice his juggling. I always dreaded someone walking into the kitchen one morning while he tossed fruit around and me desperately trying to explain why my oranges were floating around the kitchen as if light as bubbles. But this morning, it was just Redford, Newman and me, and while his tennis balls weren't normally orange, the flying orange spheres had certainly caught Newman's attention. He released a doggy whine that sounded like air being let out of a balloon.
"Now you've done it. He wants you to throw an orange." I plucked one out of mid air as he tossed it up. "Please, let me finish squeezing these without the circus act. Lola and Lacey will be here any minute."
"Lo la and Lay Cee, odd names for a pair of women." He peered through the front window. "Looks as if they have arrived."
I hopped up on my toes to have a look. A small silver sedan kicked up a bit of dust as it made its way toward the house. I put down the orange, rinsed the sticky juice from my hands and brushed a stray hair off my forehead. "How do I look?" I asked Edward.
"As you always do," he said smugly. "Brown hair, blue eyes and that frothy edge of energy that can be invigorating and tiring all at once."
I rolled my eyes. "My fault for asking in the first place." I pet Redford and Newman on the head. "Behave," I said just as the sound of a car door outside sent them racing to the entry with barks of 'yahoo we've got visitors' or at least that was what I'd decided they were saying to each other every time they ran to the front door.
I was giddy as I reached the entry. I'd been excited to meet Lola in person, and I was just as keen to get to know Lacey. It seemed we had a lot in common. I pulled open the front door. The dogs brushed past me and bounded down the front steps to greet them first. Lola was just as I pictured (which was mostly due to the pictures she occasionally posted on Facebook). Her curly red hair was tamped down by a dark green wool fedora, and a Lynard Skynard t-shirt peered out from between two panels of her unzipped sweatshirt. Lacey, I quickly discovered, had equally curly hair but hers was the color of caramel. She was wearing a lavender sweater, jeans and a smile that made me instantly know we could be friends. She leaned down and gave Redford and Newman hearty hellos.
Lola stopped short of the steps and lifted her hands in the air. "I love it. It is gorgeous."
I laughed and trotted down the stairs to greet them. "As a journalist, I've got a few choice words to describe this house. I'm not sure gorgeous is one of them."
Lola surveyed the exterior one more time, then turned her cocoa brown eyes to me. "How about stately?"
I nodded. "That works." We laughed and hugged. "I'm so glad to finally meet you, Lola."
"Me too," she said and then peeled out of ou
r embrace to look for Lacey. Newman had already trapped her into a game of fetch. Lacey threw the ball and Newman pounced after it. Redford, however, stayed right at her side, staring up at her with his one brown and one blue eye as if she were quite the best thing to ever walk across his front yard.
"Lacey, come meet Sunni," Lola called to her.
Lacey seemed reluctant to leave her post as ball thrower. "It's all right," I said. "Newman will forgive you."
Lacey bit her lip and looked back at my silly border collie, who was now sitting with the ball clenched in his teeth and his tail spinning like a helicopter propeller.
Lacey walked forward and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Lacey. I'm so glad to meet you. And I have to agree with Lola's first assessment—" Her wide eyes swept over the brick facade. "It's gorgeous. Georgian, right?"
"That's right. Although, I must warn you both that the interior is a mix of Georgian, modern day construction mess and fifty years past prime. A few of the large downstairs rooms have been restored but there's a lot to do." I led them up the steps, past the classic columns and beneath the half circle portico, all of which needed new coats of paint. "I hope you're hungry," I said as I opened the front door.
Lacey stopped and took a deep whiff. "Smoked gouda, onions and something with a lot of butter," she said confidently. "Oh, and a strong hit of citrus."
"That would be my sister's delicious quiche and the freshly squeezed orange juice." We were still outside and the front yard was overflowing with green grass that was giving off puffs of earthy fragrance as it headed toward its winter state of dormancy. There were always multiple scents drifting down from the flora laden Smoky Mountains behind the inn, but Lacey listed every aroma coming from the kitchen.
I leaned my head toward Lola. "Guess you weren't exaggerating."
"Told you, she's superhuman." Lola's enthusiastic gaze couldn't sweep in the interior fast enough. "I love this entrance. And that wallpaper with the birds," she said.
"Do you like it? It took me so long to decide on a wallpaper. I know it's a little modern, but I think the colors and patterns work in this entry." I led them down the hallway to the kitchen.
"It's wonderful," Lacey said. "The birds really bring the entry to life. You almost expect to hear twittering and chirping when you enter the house." She stopped just a few steps into the kitchen. "That smells so delicious, my nose is about to jump off my face and start breakfast without me."
Lola shrugged at my look of surprise. "Sometimes we treat the nose as if it's an entirely separate entity than the woman who owns it."
I laughed, and it occurred to me that the three of us were conversing and joking around as if we'd known each other for years. I had a feeling it would be that way with Lola. Her emails were always sharp and witty, a woman with my kind of sense of humor. It seemed Lacey was equally charming.
"Please, have a seat. Help yourself to the orange juice and coffee. I'll take Emily's quiche out of the oven." I grabbed my oven mitts.
Behind me, two chairs scraped the kitchen floor as my guests took a seat at the table. I lifted the quiche from the oven, spun around and very nearly dropped it when I saw that Edward had positioned himself on the top of a chair, directly across from Lacey. He was gazing at her with what I could only describe as starry admiration. (Or, at least as starry as his eyes could get.) It seemed Edward had taken a liking to my guest. A twang of jealousy pinched me as I lowered the quiche onto the table. I had no idea why, but it was an odd, unexpected reaction to Edward's seemingly instant adoration of Lacey Pinkerton. I shook the feeling off as silly. Besides, it was highly likely that I'd misread his expression. It was, after all, not a solid face with his striking features constantly vanishing and blurring.
"I like this woman. She has something. Can't put my finger on it but I like her," Edward said with more cheer in his tone than I'd heard in a long while. Which was mostly due to the fact that my visitors normally irritated him.
Apparently, my first appraisal had been correct. My ghost was enamored with my breakfast guest. Lacey definitely did have something with her curls, her curves and that kind of confidence that comes from being both smart and pretty. The same bite of jealousy took a nip at me. I knew I was being ridiculous and a touch childish but I couldn't seem to help myself. I supposed I was sort of possessive when it came to my ghost, which was especially evident considering I almost always used the word my when referring to Edward.
I purposely pulled out the chair Edward had perched on, forcing him to move. He vanished and reappeared on the kitchen counter, a vantage point that still gave him a clear view of Lacey. He was smitten enough, I hoped, to be on his best behavior.
A few minutes of oohs and ahhs followed as Lola and Lacey took their first bites of Emily's quiche.
Lola wiped a drip of cheese off her bottom lip. "If I ever had to face a firing squad and the warden asked what I wanted for my last meal—this would be it."
Edward's deep chuckle rumbled through the kitchen.
Lacey stared over at her friend. "Or you could just say—this is delicious. Although, I'm kind of in agreement." She lifted another forkful to her mouth. Her tiny nose wriggled back and forth. "Sage and a little thyme," she said.
"Right on both," I said. "We wanted to have an item on the menu that was comfort food with a seasonal zip. The quiche will be on the fall and winter breakfast menus."
"This will be a beautiful bed and breakfast," Lola said. "People will have to book a year in advance."
That comment earned less chuckle and more huff from Edward. "Just what we need, dozens of simpering, chatty visitors traipsing through the house. Although, I'll make an exception for these two," he added.
Edward knew that he had the upper hand when I had visitors in the room. He could offer any unwanted opinion or arrogant comment, all the while knowing full well that I couldn't bite back with my own retort. I deftly ignored him, something I was getting remarkably good at. It was a skill I was desperately going to need when there were dozens of visitors, as he'd said, traipsing through the house.
The front door opened and Raine's familiar 'yoo hoo' followed. "I'll just follow my nose to the quiche," she called down the hallway.
"The ghost expert is back for more," Edward drawled.
Raine was wearing one of her flowing, multicolored skirts and black boots. Her silver hoop earrings dangled near the bright blue shawl on her shoulders. Lacey and Lola stood up to greet her.
"Lola, Lacey, this is my best friend, Raine. She's the local psychic, and she also helps my sister, Lana, with her party planning business."
"Psychic, how cool," Lola cooed. It was exactly the reaction I expected. I could tell even through online correspondence that she was the kind of girl who would appreciate anything that was out of the ordinary and not dull or staid. "I should have you tell my fortune while I'm here."
Raine's bangles made a little song as she shook Lola's hand. "I'm also a medium and I perform séances to connect with the spirit world."
I flinched as she said it. Just as I expected, Raine's mention of the spirit world reminded Lola of the photos. "That reminds me, where are the pictures?" Lola looked at me.
I quickly motioned to the table. "The quiche loses some of its yumminess when it gets cold."
We all sat back at the table. I silently hoped that the former subject would have dropped. I was wrong.
"What pictures?" Raine asked as she helped herself to the quiche.
Lola's face snapped her direction. "You haven't seen them? They'd be right up your alley."
Lacey seemed to catch on to my lack of interest in the photo subject. (It might have been the frozen grin of terror on my face.)
"Did you say that your sister made this quiche?" Lacey asked. I liked her already.
"Yes." I gladly shot into a narrative about my little sister. "Emily and her husband, Nick, own a farm just ten acres away from the inn. My sister, Lana, lives about ten acres the other direction. My mother's family owned this entire
stretch of land for many years. When she inherited it, she thought she would just put it up for sale, but my sisters decided to live in the two farmhouses on either side of the Cider Ridge Inn. I was the last to arrive, so I only had one choice, the inn. Once the idea of a bed and breakfast snuck into my mind, put there mostly by my sisters, it was a no brainer. I moved into the inn and started the long, arduous task of restoring the place."
"I envy you," Lacey said. "It's a slightly overwhelming project, I'm sure, but what a blast it would be to bring this place back to its former glory." Everything she said earned smiling approval from Edward, who was not always generous with his grins . . . or approval, for that matter.
Lola poured herself another glass of orange juice. "Nothing better than fresh squeezed. I'm going to need the energy for antique shopping. I'm anxious to get to the sale. Is it far from here?"
"No, it's just at the edge of town in a vacant lot," Raine answered. "Antique sellers, both private and commercial, have been arriving in Firefly Junction from as far as two hundred miles away. And their prices are pretty competitive. Last year, I nabbed the cutest pair of Victorian wall sconces—" She glanced at me. "You know, the ones I have on either side of the mantel in the front room." She turned back to Lola. "They are early nineteenth century, and I bought them for twenty bucks."
Lola's eyes rounded. "Wow. I can't wait. The antiques on this side of the country are always older and more interesting. I guess the west is just too young still. Just like this house. Don't think we have too many early nineteenth century Georgian mansions around Port Danby."
Double Trouble Page 2
