Paulette didn’t move. She stared down Mrs. J. The last time this happened, someone got a pie to the face.
“Just think, next year I’ll be a judge and you’ll be baking for me!” Mrs. J. said. “Honorary Judge, there’s nothing honorary here,” she added under her breath. Last year, Paulette won the competition and had been promoted to judge along with her best friend, Suzanne Butterfield, who I saw joining them now. Mrs. J. was still not over it. I didn’t think she’d ever be.
“Ha! Over my dead body. You’ll NEVER be a judge,” Paulette said, puffing out her chest.
“Don’t tempt me.” Mrs. J. narrowed her eyes and took a fighting stance. My surrogate nana could deliver a threat like a boss. It was inspiring.
“Please, you hardly scare me.” But Paulette took a step back. Suzanne looked behind her. I wondered if she was looking for a pie.
“Ladies, if you please.” The town mayor, Mr. Humphrey Potts, hobbled over with his ivory-handled cane and tried to defuse the situation. “We have guests.” His head motioned to the gathering crowd, in a nervous sort of way. The women ignored him. If he was smart, he would’ve just gotten out of the way. Mayor Potts wouldn’t get anywhere with those two. This feud had been going on for years. They weren’t about to stop. Besides, I never thought of Mayor Potts as an authority figure with his bumbling personality. The title Town Ambassador was more appropriate, which was probably why he was the festival’s Grand Marshal every year.
“Admit it, that’s why you’re not baking this year. Couldn’t handle a little competition,” Mrs. J. said.
“Oh Birdie, you’re pathetic. Must I remind you, Deep South Cuisine named my pecan torte Best of the Best,” Paulette said.
“That’s true, they did,” Suzanne said, nodding her head to the gathering crowd.
“Well, whoopty flippin’ do. I guess that settles it,” Mrs. J. replied, twirling her finger in a circle.
“And you darn well know last year I won fair and square,” Paulette insisted.
“If you call having relations with the festival’s Grand Marshal fair and square…” Mrs. J. trailed off. Mr. Pott’s complexion now matched his red bow tie. Suzanne covered her mouth with her hand and widened her eyes.
“Why you!” Paulette got all huffy. She turned her head to the right and then left in swift desperation, but no pies were in sight.
Mrs. J. smirked. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or be horrified. Finn found it totally amusing. Christina’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. I bet they didn’t have drama like this at the country club.
“UGH!” Paulette turned on her heel and marched off, balling up Mrs. J.’s recipe card in her fist and throwing it on the ground. Suzanne threw an evil eye at Mrs. J. and followed Paulette. Mayor Potts trailed after them both, picking the card up and smiling at the crowd as if it had all been part of the show.
“Humph. I’d like to put a little something extra in her cake,” Mrs. J. mumbled. I could relate. I had my own frenemy that brought out the worst in me. I tried to keep it in check, because, you know, Karma and all that; but man, sometimes … Justine could irk me like no one else. Speak of the devil, I thought, as I saw her making her way through the crowd. She had her dolled-up poodle under one arm and was passing out flyers with the other. I didn’t even want to know. I turned my back to her and got Mrs. J.’s attention.
“So, you ready to do this?” I asked her.
“Sug’!” Mrs. J. wrapped me in a giant hug. She smelled like chocolate and peppermint, and I drank it all in. She whispered, “And I see you brought Mr. Hot Pants, too.” I gave her a little extra squeeze.
“Hey, this is Christina,” I said when we broke free. “She’s Aria’s cousin. I told her you were making the wedding cake and she wanted to give it a little sample.”
“Well, it’s no buttercream; but if you ask me, this tastes better.” Mrs. J. turned to the table behind her and came back with a bakery box filled with her chocolate cake. I opened the box and took in a big whiff. Forget a plate. Someone needed to get me a fork, stat!
“Happy birthday, sweets.”
“Thanks, Mrs. J.”
“You enjoy it, now. I got to be getting to work. The show starts in twenty minutes.” Mrs. J. scooted us on our way.
We wished her luck and headed toward the makeshift food court, which was basically an open area with plastic tables and chairs, with food vendors outlining the perimeter. I didn’t even let them sing “Happy Birthday” to me. We cut into the cake with a plastic knife and I doled out the deliciousness. Any skepticism Christina might have harvested vanished the moment that cake was in her mouth. I could see it in her eyes. Dessert nirvana. I’d be a total liar if I didn’t say I would’ve eaten more than my fair share if Finn and Christina hadn’t been there. The cake was that good. But, seeing that I was trying to be a lady (don’t laugh) and we couldn’t take a cake on the Ferris wheel, I thought it would be nice to give some away. So, I did. Satisfied with the cake, Christina took off, and Finn and I passed out the remaining slices on paper plates to whomever wanted one. Well, everyone except Justine. She tried to snag a piece from Finn (did I mention she was also his psychotic ex-girlfriend? Small world, huh?), but I told her no. And then I smiled.
Finn and I were back in the grandstands and ready to watch the show right when it started. Mrs. J. was cracking eggs, whisking batter, and adding a dash of this and that to her mixing bowls, all the while sporting a beaming smile as if she were on her own cooking show, laughing with the audience and telling stories about this or that. The other two contestants were all business. Wendy Swiss was making a caramel cake, and she looked like a total wreck. Even sitting three rows back, I could see her hands shaking. She was no competition. The other contestant, Mary Dubbs, was making miniature lemon soufflés. Although, I wasn’t sure if she was making dessert or running a special op. She had everything from measuring spoons and candy thermometers to a citrus peeler and lemon zester strapped to the utility belt of her cargo pants. She even wore black army boots that looked like she was used to stomping out the competition. Now, she might be a threat.
Mrs. J. hummed as she worked until WA-WOOM! A small fire ball shot up from Wendy’s stovetop. We all jumped back. I instinctively covered my eyebrows. It wouldn’t have been the first time they were singed off. I liked to think I was a master at penciling in brows, but thankfully they were safe. We all stared as caramelized liquid bubbled and oozed over the pan and spilled across the cooktop. Wendy stood dumbfounded with a bottle of rum in her hand. Mrs. J. ran over and turned off the gas and pulled the pot from the flame. Military Mary didn’t even look over. She was too busy zesting a lemon to death. Wendy burst into tears and ran off the stage, leaving Mrs. J. standing there with a literal hot mess on her hands. Mr. Humphrey arrived a moment later with a fire extinguisher and a roll of paper towels. With the chaos under control, Mrs. J. went back to her station and began whipping up her signature chocolate sauce. She was hilarious, trying to hide exactly what was in it, but I saw that she added a lot of butter and chocolate, and the last ingredient was some type of syrup. It looked like honey. I would’ve never thought to add that to a chocolate sauce. I’d have loved to ask Mrs. J. about it, but I knew she wouldn’t elaborate. Regardless, I would’ve enjoyed licking that spoon.
When all was said and done, Mrs. J. had turned out a sensational cake. My mouth watered as I knew it tasted just as good. With two minutes to spare, she plated the judges’ pieces, gave them one last drizzle of her special chocolate sauce, and turned them in. Military Mary had finished ten minutes earlier and was doing calisthenics on the sidelines. Wendy Swiss sat in the bleachers, still crying over her disastrous performance.
The judges sat at the front of the stage, analyzing the desserts from every angle, and deliberating in dramatic fashion while the audience waited with bated breath. A couple of middle-school band students were brought on stage to provide entertainment and ease the tension while we waited. Their rendition of God Bless America was about as goo
d as you could imagine, and did little to settle the nerves that were dancing in my stomach. I wondered how Mrs. J. was holding up. I looked around to see for myself, but she was nowhere to be found.
Finally, after way too long and one too many musical versus, Mayor Potts was back front and center with a microphone in hand, ready to announce the winner. Mrs. J. popped back in place from wherever she had been, looking poised and ready to accept her award. I saw she was sporting fresh Passion Pout lipstick, a favorite hue of hers, and her apron had been tossed aside. Her confidence was contagious and I beamed at her in anticipation of her victory. I was just waiting to hear her name so I could rush over and congratulate her.
Finn put his hand on my bouncing knee. “Settle down, cowboy,” he said, and laughed. I swatted his hand away and shushed him. Mayor Potts was getting ready to speak.
“Should we get to it, then?” The mayor gave a bit of a nervous chuckle. “All right then! The winner of this year’s Seaside Days championship bake off is … drum roll please … Mary Dubbs!”
Mic drop. The earth quaked in response, and I shivered.
Mary sprung onto stage like it had been a planned part of her workout. She pumped her fists in the air and bounced around the stage as if she had just knocked Mrs. J. out. The enthusiasm was all her own. A few people politely clapped, but anyone who knew Mrs. J. kept silent. I looked for Mrs. J. to see how she was handling the news, and did a double take. She was already rushing the stage. Sweet sugar! I leapt into action, but Mrs. J. was already having it out with Paulette before I could reach her.
“You rotten woman! That title is mine!” she shouted.
Paulette couldn’t even get a word in.
“I hate you. This is just like you. You lie and you cheat, and I’m so sick of it!”
Mayor Potts stared at the ladies, who were having it out on the stage, horrified. I was pretty shocked too, and I knew how vocal Mrs. J. could be.
“You rigged this. So help me, Paulette. This doesn’t end here!” Mrs. J. stormed off before turning and pointing at the mayor. “You too!” she threatened. Mayor Potts looked a little white around the collar. You did not want to be on Mrs. J.’s bad side, especially if you were in politics. If anyone could air someone’s dirty laundry, it was Mrs. J. I didn’t dare go after her. She needed to cool down about a thousand degrees before I’d touch her.
Mayor Potts gave another nervous laugh into the microphone. “Let’s hear it once again for Mary! That was some dessert.” He clapped. Mary clapped. The rest of the crowd was silent. Awkward.
I walked back off the stage and rejoined Finn. He looked at me with a huge grin. “Well, that was fun. Funnel cake?”
“You’re terrible.”
“What?” Finn looked all innocent. “C’mon, admit it. That was awesome. I bet someone posts it online.” I really, really hoped they didn’t, but Finn was probably right. I was sure it would go viral.
21
Chapter 2
I should probably have felt like puking after all the junk I ate and carnival rides we rode. Funnel cakes, corn dogs, cotton candy, French fries, and that’s only the stuff I remembered. Finn was a ride warrior. If it spun, swung, or dropped, he was all about it. I’d bet he’d go crazy at a real amusement park. Something to keep in mind. My head was still spinning.
The afternoon had finally ended and now it was time for my favorite part: fireworks. My birthday seemed to always be during Seaside Days. When I was little, I believed my dad when he said the fireworks were just for me. We had swung back by Finn’s apartment for a blanket and a few drinks before heading down to the beach to claim our spot. The fireworks were launched off a barge straight in front of us. We couldn’t have asked for a better view.
With the carnival behind us and the ocean in front, it was super romantic. My stomach churned again, only this time it had nothing to do with the carnival. Maybe we should’ve made this a group thing. Aria and Vince would’ve probably joined us. I could’ve still given her a call. I was a second away from texting Aria and seeing what she was up to, when Finn brought me back to the present. “Here. Happy birthday.” He took a jewelry box out of his cargo shorts pocket.
Oh heck no. There better not be anything of the diamond variety in that little box. We hadn’t been dating for that long. My heart pounded and I thought I’d pass out right then and there.
I must’ve looked terrified because Finn said, “Chill out, it’s nothing like that. I know you.”
I gave the phoniest laugh ever. Good grief, I was pathetic. I fumbled with the box and opened it. Inside was a beautiful silver charm bracelet with three charms: a high heel, a lipstick, and a champagne flute. He did know me, and well. “Finn, seriously, this is awesome. I love it.” I kissed him full on the mouth in a beautiful public display of affection.
Finn rummaged in our little cooler and brought out a mini bottle of champagne. “I forgot the cups.”
“That’s okay.” I was never one to turn down a little bubbly, and I could sure use a drink after my little freak out back there.
He popped the cork and handed me the bottle.
“Cheers, birthday girl. I have a feeling this year’s going to be great.”
“Me too.” This was going to be the year. I had big dreams.
“So, tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Did you want me to see if someone else can take it?”
An offshore fishing trip had just been booked and Finn was set to take them out through the week. He had recently taken over the charter business for Mr. Murphy, and his trips had quickly built a following, thanks to his mad social media skills and his Instagram followers.
“No, it’s cool. Seriously. Besides, you hate weddings as much as I do.” With Finn out of town, there was no pressure for him to be my date. Bonus.
“I didn’t say that. What I said was I didn’t like them. You however, have serious wedding issues.” So very true. This, of course, might have something to do with the fact that my ex-fiancé cheated on me two weeks before our wedding. Not going to lie, I still wasn’t over it. Finn only knew part of the story, which was the way I planned on keeping it.
“Anyway, don’t worry about the wedding. Not only that, but I have a bunch of work stuff going on. I’m sure the week will fly by.”
“Just a girl boss.”
“Building her empire,” I said with a smile.
With a champagne bottle in hand and a gorgeous bracelet on my wrist, I leaned back, oohing and ahhing as the fireworks lit up the night sky. Did I know how to celebrate my birthday, or what? My favorite fireworks were the gold sparkly ones that popped and fizzed like giant Rice Krispies. Finn was all about the weeping willow ones that cascaded down the sky until dipping into the ocean. He pointed them out every single time, as if I could miss seeing them. I laughed at his innocence. The speakers on the grandstand played a mixture of eighties tunes and Americana music in sync with the blasts. It was a display of patriotism at its finest. With every explosion, the sand shook a little bit and the sensation reverberated in my chest. I loved it.
Thirty minutes later, the show was wrapping up. Blast after blast shot off from the barge in front. It almost looked like the platform was on fire with how quickly the shells were being launched. When the celebration ended, the entire beach and grandstands area erupted in cheers. I could already hear people saying how great the show was, comparing it to previous years. So far, everyone thought the town had done a fabulous job. We waited a few minutes while everyone seemed to make a mad dash, gathering their kids and gear, to beat traffic. Thankfully, we wouldn’t be dealing with that mess.
“You about ready to head back?” I asked a few minutes later. I had only brought one of Finn’s sweatshirts to throw over my cutoffs, and the night air had cooled several degrees.
“Yeah, let’s go. I may or may not have a surprise waiting for you.” Finn reached for my hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss. Surprises weren’t really my thing, but I had a feeling I’d love
whatever Finn had in store.
“Beach or boardwalk?” he asked.
“Beach. Less crowded.” Most of the crowd had thinned out except for the few bonfires that had popped up, and the kids who ran around on the beach with sparklers in hand.
I started to ask Finn more about his planned charter. “So, where are you going exactly?”
“Making a run from Savannah to St. Augustine with a couple of island stops along the way. It’s basically the best vacation ever.”
Ha, I doubted that. In my opinion, the best vacation involved the beach, a fruity cocktail, and my bikini. I turned my head and started to tell him so when I tripped over something and went flying face-first in the sand. My hands cushioned the blow, but I still took in a mouthful of grit.
“Hey, you okay?” Finn had dropped the cooler and blanket and rushed to my side.
“What the heck?” I rolled over and Finn gave me a hand up. I whipped the sand off my clothes and face, and tried to spit out the remnants in my mouth as ladylike as possible; but there was no proper way to do this, I discovered. At least I didn’t get any in my eyes.
I looked behind me in the darkness to try and see what I had tripped over. “Sweet sugar!” I jumped back. A human foot was sticking out of the sand. Finn froze next to me and I knew he saw it too.
“Tell me this wasn’t my birthday surprise,” I said.
“Not even close.”
I wish I could say this was the first dead body we’d found together. This time, I let him call the cops.
Kiss & Makeup
A wedding, a feud, and a dead body. What could go wrong?
Ziva Diaz was really looking forward to this week. Her best friend's getting married and her new beauty line is launching. But stumbling over a dead body on the beach trips her up in more ways than one. Her beauty client, Mrs. Birdie Jackson, is charged with the murder and she asks Ziva to clear her name. Ziva believes that Mrs. J. would never murder anyone, too bad she’s the only one. As Ziva sets out to solve the mystery someone else sets out to ruin her reputation and her friend’s wedding.
Makeup & Murder: Beauty Secrets Mystery Book 1 Page 20
