A Freshly Baked Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Kate Bell

  “Told ya so,” I said, and went and scooped a bowl for myself. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  “Mmm,” he said, taking a bigger bite.

  “I want to go to Kohl’s,” I said.

  “Why, pray tell?” he asked.

  “I might need some baking stuff,” I said. I poured chocolate syrup over my snow cream.

  He sighed. “It seems like you have more than enough baking stuff.”

  “I might need more mixing bowls. Or something.”

  “Fine, we’ll go. But one of these days I want to make snow cream with wild caught snow.”

  ***

  When we pulled up at Kohl’s, I spotted Josh walking across the parking lot. “Hey, Alec,” I said and pointed Josh out.

  Alec nodded at me. “Let’s go before he gets in his car.”

  We hurried across the parking lot and managed to get in position to be passing him as he headed toward the far side of the parking lot.

  “Oh hi, Josh,” I called out when we got close.

  He stopped in his tracks and stared at us. I wondered if he had forgotten who we were.

  He forced himself to smile at us. “Hi,” he said quietly.

  “How are you doing, Josh?” I asked. He held a small shopping bag in his hand and his face looked more broken out than it had before.

  “I’m-I’m okay,” he said, looking away.

  “Hi, Josh,” Alec said. “I’ve been meaning to check on you. Just to see how you’re doing.”

  Josh’s face turned red. “I’m fine.”

  “Josh, we know how important Mrs. Rose was to you and we wanted you to know if there’s anything you need, you should feel free to ask,” I said gently.

  He looked at me, making eye contact. “Thanks. That’s nice. It’s still hard to believe she’s gone.”

  “Losing someone that’s important to you is hard,” Alec said.

  “Sometimes I think Mrs. Rose is the only person that made me feel like I could make something of myself.” He smiled a little when he said it. “She was always saying, ‘you can do it’.”

  That made me feel bad. It was hard for shy kids to feel confident, but at least he had had Iris.

  “I’ve heard nothing but good things about Mrs. Rose as a teacher,” Alec said.

  “Have you found out who killed her yet?” Josh asked, looking at Alec. He was shifting from one foot to the other and seemed to have difficulty making and holding eye contact.

  Alec shook his head. “No, not yet. We’re hoping to have a break in the case soon. Have you heard anything around town?”

  “What? What do you mean?” Josh asked, shifting a little faster now.

  Alec shrugged. “Sometimes in small towns, things get said. I just wondered if you’d heard anyone say anything about the case.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding his head. “No, I haven’t heard a thing. I’ve been home taking care of my mother. I have to go now, she’s expecting me.”

  “Okay, well, you let us know if you hear anything,” Alec said as Josh hurried off.

  I looked at Alec. “He has to take care of his mom?”

  “And he sure seemed nervous,” he said.

  “That he did,” I said and we headed to the store entrance.

  “I wonder what he would have done if we had told him we knew his mother wasn’t sick?” Alec asked me.

  “Probably cry. I think if he knew that we knew he had flunked out of college, he would fall apart,” I said.

  “If he had, you would have had to take care of him. I handled the funeral scene,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I think all of our suspects are due for another round of questioning,” I told him.

  “That could be. And hopefully Sam has more information from his side of the investigation.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Give me a kiss before you go,” I said, leaning in toward Alec.

  He kissed me and pulled me to him. “I’m only going to be gone a few hours,” he assured me.

  I giggled. “I know, I know. I just wish you were going to be here when the inspector comes.”

  “You’ll be fine. You and Jennifer have been scrubbing and cleaning for days. That kitchen is shining. The whole house is spotless. No way will you not pass,” he assured me.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said. “I shouldn’t worry.”

  He let me go. “And if you don’t pass, we’ll just make whatever changes need to be made and there’ll be another inspection. Easy as can be.”

  “You’re right. We can do that.”

  “All right. I’m leaving now so I won’t be late,” he said, and headed to my car parked out front.

  “Good luck!” I called.

  He waved at me and got into the car. I watched until he drove out of sight. I knew he didn’t need luck. He knew all he needed to know about the law and getting his PI license.

  I went back into the house and took another look at the kitchen. Alec was right. It was sparkling clean. I went back into the living room and picked up Iris’s journal and sat on the sofa.

  I turned to the first page and read the entry.

  August 19

  I cannot wait to start the school year. Next week I have to report to the school for meetings. Then I get my classroom and can decorate! I’ve wanted to decorate my own classroom for forever, and I can’t wait to meet my kids. My kids. I love the sound of that.

  Iris was so young and sweet, it broke my heart. So full of hope and potential.

  September 3

  I made it through my first day. I was so nervous! The kids are so cute and I can’t wait to get to know each one.

  She had made a list of each child’s name and a comment with her first impressions. I skipped down to Jennifer’s name.

  Jennifer McSwain -- Sweet little girl. She has pretty strawberry blond hair and a bright smile. I’m looking forward to teaching her.

  My heart swelled with pride. Jennifer had been one of the sweetest little girls. I sometimes felt sorry for other mothers because they didn’t have her. I skipped down to Josh Stine’s name.

  Joshua Stine -- quiet, shy boy. He seems a little immature compared to the other children, but very bright.

  I started skimming the journal, looking for pages mentioning either Jennifer or Josh. There was an entry where Jennifer had been a big help with passing out art supplies. Another where she had been kind and shared her lunch with a child that had forgotten hers at home. That was my little Jennifer. Always a helper. I decided I was going to make copies of the pages that mentioned Jennifer. She would love to have a copy of them, and I wanted a copy for myself.

  I found an entry about Josh where she went into more detail about his personality.

  I’m a little concerned about Josh Stine, but I don’t know if I should bring it up with someone or not. He seems very immature compared to the other students. He has trouble socializing with the other children and he frequently has outbursts. On the other hand, he’s very smart. He catches on to everything much faster than the other children, but this seems to ostracize him from the others. I am trying to encourage him to help me teach the other children with their math. This makes him very happy. But it doesn’t take much for him to become angry. He frequently has tantrums. I just don’t know if I should mention all this to someone or not. What if it’s nothing and I’m blowing this out of proportion? I can’t wait for the day when I’m experienced enough to know how to handle these types of things.

  I smiled. Poor Iris. I could imagine it being difficult to know how to handle kids with problems in the beginning of her teaching career.

  And then on the last day of school:

  Today was harder than I expected. I will miss my kids. They are all so wonderful in their own way. If I had a favorite, it would have to be Jennifer McSwain, although I would never tell anyone that. I’ve met her father several times and I’m sure she must take after him. He seems so kind and helpful. I’ll miss Jennifer the most, I think. We both cr
ied when she had to leave.

  My chest just about burst with pride. That was my girl. So sweet. Hey, wait a minute. Why did she assume Jennifer took after Thaddeus? Iris had spent more time around me than she had Thaddeus. I had volunteered to help at the Valentine’s day party and the Christmas party and just about anything else that had come up. Oh well. Jennifer would enjoy reading what Iris had to say about her.

  Then I read the entry about Josh:

  I’m concerned about Joshua Stine. He’s been struggling this last week with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be in my class anymore. He was inconsolable this last day. Although I enjoyed having him in my class, he was exhausting at times. I made a request that he get some help before he goes into third grade. His mother was not receptive. She insists he doesn’t have any issues, but I spoke with the school psychologist and she agreed with me. We could not get his mother to agree to counseling.

  Hmm. Iris didn’t go into detail about exactly what her concerns were regarding Josh, but his mother had been made aware. When Lucy and I spoke to her several days earlier, she had suggested her son needed some therapy, so obviously she was no longer in denial. He had been an overly emotional child and it looked like not much had changed. I would have to go back over the journal more carefully to see if I had missed what Iris thought the root of the problem was.

  The doorbell rang and I put the journal down and went to answer it.

  “Good morning, Allie McSwain?” the man standing at the door asked. “I’m Ken Matson. I’m with the health department.”

  “Yes, please come in,” I said, and took a step back.

  “Thank you,” he said, stepping into the living room.

  “Follow me and I’ll show you to the kitchen,” I said and led the way. “I’ve never had an inspection like this before. I hope everything’s going to be okay.”

  “It’ll be quick,” he said. “I just need to take a look around.”

  “Please, go ahead,” I said, and leaned back against the wall. I crossed my fingers as he went about his job.

  He opened cupboards and looked into the stove. I half expected him to be wearing a pair of white cotton gloves and for him to swipe his index finger across the stovetop. Instead, he just looked at everything.

  “Is this the refrigerator you’re going to use?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

  “You might want to consider getting a second one that’s just for the food you’re cooking that’s for sale. It makes it easier to keep things separate and also for inspections. You don’t have to, but you might consider it,” he said and took a thermometer out of his briefcase and stuck it into the refrigerator and closed the door. “We need to make sure it’s the correct temperature.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” I said.

  “Will you be selling hot food?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I mean, apple pie’s better when it’s a little bit warm, but I don’t need to serve it warm.”

  “Okay, sounds good. If you were going to sell it hot, there are heat temperature requirements,” he said, filling out a form. After a few minutes, he reached back into the refrigerator and looked at the thermometer and then put it back in his briefcase.

  “Is it okay?” I asked.

  “Perfect. Here you go,” he said, handing me a copy of the form he was filling out.

  “Good luck on your new business venture, Mrs. McSwain,” he said and headed for the front door.

  “What? That’s it?” I said, following him. “I passed?”

  “With flying colors,” he said over his shoulder. “Consider that second refrigerator and don’t forget you are subject to inspection at any time.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I said and he was gone. I had done it. I had passed the inspection and I was ready to start my business. I could hardly believe it.

  I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and texted Alec.

  I did it! I passed! Yippee!!

  He was probably still taking the PI test or maybe he was driving home now, so I would have to wait to talk to him. I sat back on the sofa and smiled to myself. This was going to be awesome. I was sure of it.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Alec was true to his word and took me out to a fancy restaurant. Fancy for Sandy Harbor, anyway. I had bought a new black dress at a local dress shop just for this occasion. I’d also worn my simple strand of pearls. Sandy Harbor needed more dress-up restaurants so I could feel like a girly girl more often.

  We went to Le Chemise, a new French restaurant that had recently opened in town. The place was packed and the décor had old world charm. Two white candles and a bunch of fresh grapes and woven grapevine made up the table centerpiece. The display sat on a gold charger was heavy and rustic looking and reminded me of something that would have been made in the eighteenth century. Whoever had opened this restaurant knew what they were doing with the décor.

  I was eyeing their dessert menu and was impressed with their offerings and wondered who was making them. I couldn’t think of anyone in town that baked French style pastries. I was going to have to investigate this more fully.

  “Do you see anything that looks good to you?” Alec asked me.

  “I’ve got my eye on the Lamb Navarin. What about you?” I asked. I hadn’t had a nice lamb stew in a long time. Thaddeus and I had vacationed in Normandy before the children were born and I had fallen in love with the lamb stew we’d had.

  “Lamb is always a good choice. I’m thinking a classic coq au vin. I haven’t had that in what seems like years,” he said, still looking over the menu. “And how about a nice red wine?”

  “Sounds good. I wonder if it’s an authentic French wine?” I asked, still eyeing the dessert menu.

  “Let’s hope so,” he said. “And what on that dessert menu has caught your attention? I know something must have.”

  I looked up at him. His eyes had never left his own menu, but he knew what had caught my eye. “All of it. I mean, they couldn’t possibly be authentic, right?”

  He looked at me with a smirk on his lips. “What makes you say that? It’s a French restaurant, isn’t it? Surely they wouldn’t lie about the authenticity, would they?” he asked, emphasizing the word lie.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know anyone in town that can bake authentic French desserts,” I whispered.

  “I detect a note of jealousy in that statement,” he said. “How about a nice Bordeaux?”

  “I have nothing to be jealous of,” I said. “Order any wine you want. I don’t care.”

  “Now, Allison, let’s not get huffy. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about where desserts are concerned. Right?”

  “No, I do not have anything to worry about. And don’t call me Allison. Only my mother calls me Allison,” I huffed. I wasn’t worried about competition. Le Chemise was a new restaurant and it stood to reason it would be packed for the first few weeks it was open. But after the novelty had worn off, it would only do a decent business if the food was really good. I did have to admit, it was poor timing since I was getting ready to begin offering my desserts at Henry’s. But I had an advantage this place didn’t. I had a reputation of baking the finest desserts in town.

  “So are we settled on our meal?” he asked, laying his menu down.

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “Why don’t you order a dessert of your choice and I’ll order one of mine and that way you’ll have two items off their menu that you can try out. You know, and see if they taste authentic or not,” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes at him again. “I do not need to try out their desserts. I know no one in town knows how to make French pastries.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. But I have my eye on that St. Honore’.”

  I gasped. “Oh, St. Honore’ is wonderful. I mean, it’s wonderful if it’s authentic.”

  “Well, let’s hope it is. And what will you be having?” he asked.

  “I’ll have the Chocolate Reli
gieuse.”

  He smiled and the waiter walked up. He wore an actual suit and I was impressed. No other restaurant in town had their wait staff dress up like that. The closest we had was Antonio’s Italian restaurant and the wait staff there merely wore white dress shirts and black dress pants.

  “Good evening, Monsieur, Madame,” he said in a thick French accent, nodding at each of us in turn. “May I take your order?”

  My mouth nearly dropped open. He was French. That meant the food was most likely authentic. And if the food was authentic, then the desserts were too. I forced myself not to make eye contact with Alec.

  When the waiter left, Alec said, “Wow. Authentic.”

  “Don’t start. Just because the waiter is French doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Hey, I’m not going to give you a hard time. I really didn’t think this place would be authentic-authentic. I just figured someone took a French cooking class,” he said.

  “Me too,” I said, suddenly feeling deflated.

  “Hey, don’t you get down. You’re one of the best bakers around. You have nothing to worry about,” he assured me.

  “I know. I’m being silly,” I said.

  “That’s right, you are,” he said.

  The wine came and Alec poured us each a glass.

  “That looks good,” I said.

  “Let’s toast to your new business venture, and me hopefully passing the PI exam,” he said passing me a glass and holding his up.

  “There’s no ‘hopefully’ about it. I know you passed that exam with flying colors,” I said as we gently brought our glasses together.

  “This is going to be a great year,” he said, and took a sip from his glass. “Allie?”

  I looked at him. His eyes were shiny.

  “I love you. I mean, really, really love you.”

  “Oh, Alec, I love you too,” I said and felt tears spring to my eyes. “And now you’re going to make me cry and my mascara is going to run all over the place.”