ADVANCE PRAISE FOR
The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies
A fantastical romantic mystery of friendship, science, sex and literature.
– SALLY DESKINS, EDITOR, Les Femmes Folles BOOKS
Vivid pictures, memorable characters and places summon up herbal magic and mystery.
– DI SAGGAU, BOOK REVIEWER, Island Sun News, SANIBEL/CAPTIVA, FL
A richly woven tale of mystery, erotica, and ancient herbs.
– ELENA DIAZ BJORKQUIST, AUTHOR OF Suffer Smoke, CO-EDITOR, Our Spirit, Our Reality
An intriguing, herb-seasoned page-turner.
– SUSAN WITTIG ALBERT, AUTHOR OF THE China Bales Mysteries
Charming women and a mysterious, titillating plot.
– ANNA TITTL, THE QUIRKY LIBRARIAN
As the story arc dances, we’re reminded of powerful, supportive relationships with like-minded friends.
– SUSAN CUMMINS MILLER, AUTHOR OF THE Frankie McFarland Mystery Series
Highly original. Beautifully defined and amusing characters.
– CHRISTINA BRITTON CONROY, AUTHOR OF THE One Man’s Music
The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies is a work of fiction, and names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Although the poisonous potions are imaginary, the herbs used within them are dangerous and should not be used in any way. The herb “lively” is fictional. Other listed herbs should not be regarded as consumable and no herbal uses contained in this novel are intended to constitute, nor should be considered as medical advice or serve as a substitute for the advice of a physician or other qualified health care provider.
Copyright © 2015 by Connie Spittler
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Fiction Junction, an imprint of River Junction Press LLC, Omaha, NE.
www.riverjunctionpress.com
Trade paper May 1, 2015
Book Design by Jamison Design
Publisher’s Cataloging-In-Publication Data
(Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)
Spittler, Connie.
The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies / Connie Spittler.
pages ; cm
Issued also in various ebook formats.
ISBN: 978-0-9914093-6-5
1. Librarians--California--Fiction. 2. Book clubs (Discussion groups)--California--Fiction. 3. Rare books--Fiction. 4. Murder--California--Fiction. 5. Erotic literature--Fiction. 6. Mystery fiction. I. Title.
PS3619.P588 E76 2015
813/.6
ALSO BY CONNIE SPITTLER
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PROLOGUE: 1500 A.D.
The wrinkled hand of Duchess Jardin trembled as she dipped her quill in the pot of blood-red ink. Foxglove. Monkshood. Belladonna. She scrolled each scarlet letter with care, spelling out herbal names that dripped with poison, dangerous herbs used by Z, the gypsy healer, in his experimental treatments. Her goose feather pen marked down each remedy, listing the exact ingredients and instructions.
She straightened her gold-brocade sleeves, then stared out the window of the high tower, thinking back to the arrival of the quiet traveler. He’d requested permission to enter the iron gate of their Alsatian chateau, then told her of his experimental cures. As head of the estate, she’d offered him the storage cave for his work. After a few days, she began to pluck herbs from the bouquets drying in the scullery for him to use in his recipes. Then she began to assist him, crushing and pounding mixtures in the hope of healing her own aches and pains. When signs appeared from others that his curatives had healing powers, she tried small sips, but found no relief from illnesses that ravaged her worn body.
Sparrow song outside the window brought her back to the writing. She began again, this time listing the five ingredients for Z’s strange tea, a brew flowery with the fragrance of erotic scents. Dragoncello. Mint. Lovage. Yarrow. Lively. It was his only recipe using herbs safe to ingest. When Z declared this brew not only reversed the signs of aging, but increased the appetite for love, she noticed those who drank it regularly appeared younger and more vital.
Unable to contain her curiosity, one day she tried the elixir. Reeling from its effects, she crept off to bed to dream of bronzed men who satisfied her in every way. The next day, she walked for hours in the garden, recalling the pleasures that had overtaken her aging body and mind. Returning to the chateau, she worried about ways the tea might affect the lives of castle estate dwellers. When death took some extremely ill patients who’d taken Z’s cures, she sent the healer away.
But for the duchess, the question remained: had the sick and old died as nature intended, or from the healer’s potions? Like the gypsy, she believed that earth’s green things could heal. Now, sensing she had little time left to live, she recorded his herbal cures for the future, a time when the validity and safety of such plants could be studied and applied to dreaded diseases of all kinds.
After the Duchess finished writing, she folded the pages of cures and placed them in the placket she’d attached to the endpapers of her book of gardening and herbals cures. She lit the candle and applied two red seals, one for the inside pocket that held Z’s remedies, the other to seal the cover of her book. The Duchess gathered her strength and wrote a short note to her son.
My beloved Gozbert,
You have shown great promise since your father died. My time to pass is near and now you must guide the workings of our beloved Jardin Estate. I ask one thing of you, to lock my book of herbal cures safely away from curious eyes. It contains no personal family secrets, just my drawings and listings of our garden plants and peasant cures, but it also includes the gypsy healer’s potions for dropsy, growths and romantic aging. Keep the book safe in the storage cave until an appropriate time. There is no way to foresee if one day, my record of curatives might be thought valuable by truly learned persons and used for serious illnesses that befall others.
Your loving mother, the Duchess Jardin
She placed her note on the scarlet cover of the Book of Cures and tied a gold ribbon around it. Weak and weary, she blew out the candle and let her hand rest on a sprig of lovage picked from her garden. She waited for the shadow of death to visit, its lingering weight pressing down on her body. When a breeze sailed by, the frail spirit of the Duchess was gone, an old soul catching a ride on the wing of a sparrow.
A butterfly strayed through the opening of the chateau cupola and lit on the manuscript. Orange and black wings swung back and forth. No sound issued from the steady movement. But the air moved and the flutter of its mosaic tapestry continued as the air received the invisible tapping of fragile beating. The movement increased and expanded. It filled the tower space and beyond, joining the gathering wind that rushed over the sun-burst design of the garden, traveling past the eerie cloud of war and disease that hovered over the Alsatian countryside.
Later, sparrows nested in the blossoming plum trees and whistled to herbal seedlings that sprouted from loamy depths.
Later still, bees congregated in the greening fields, called by the scent of lovage, clover, and wild carrot that enriched the country air.
And the silent song of rhythmic orange wings swept on through time and weather.
CHAPTER 1
As the earth spun in the universe, plagues and disasters came and went, but the Jardin family survived in their rugged stone castle, set amidst the rolling
Alsatian landscape. The Jardin family invested in Pinot Blanc grape vines, and their emphasis moved from gilded chateau life to that of a vineyard famed for its excellent product, a smoky Klevner. Surrounded by fields of intertwining grapevines, the same vegetables and unusual herbs still grew in the garden that gave the Jardin Estate vintages their name.
The heaviness of centuries turned over, and the Book of Cures remained hidden from the world in the estate storage cave, until a scarlet marketing tool sent its herbal message tumbling into the 21st century. By 2015, Jardin wine was selling well enough, but the elderly Duke Quincy wanted more financial return. He hired a marketing firm to expand international sales and the company proposed a red, attention-getting direct mail leaflet. Not only did the flyer promote the estate wine, it enticed the curious by mentioning the hidden family book.
Alsatian Heirloom Seeds for Sale
Poisonous and Nonpoisonous
For Decorative Use Only
From the Medieval Garden of the Jardin Estates
Home of the hidden, sealed Book of Cures
Jardin Wine & Herbal Seed Prices Inside
According to the marketing man, seeds were the key to herbal life. Seeds enhanced by ancient and dangerous mystique were not easily available. Where would one buy such an unconventional collection? From the Jardin Estates, of course, an Alsatian vineyard known for its excellent Klevner.
In a computerized selection, the first global area chosen for distribution of the leaflet was the United States, a country known for its deep pockets and generous spirit. After additional research, the first state selected to test the use of mysterious seeds to sell wine, was California.
CHAPTER 2
The salty fragrance of a seaside morning washed over the stucco of the mission style building in Groverly, California. Inside, Assistant Director Lily McFae worked in her standard cubicle at the Main Branch Library, sorting real mail from junk. She let her mind wander over her hopeless, loveless life. Now in her early forties, she longed again for a man to love, for kisses and embraces, that special touch of romance. Someone she’d yet to meet. Someone somewhere waiting for her. She shivered. It was now so unlikely.
Accompanied by the music of Mozart from her iPhone, she propped open a book on origami destined to be removed from the library shelves because of its low checkout number. Nose to page, she reached for a scarlet flyer, the top piece on the throw-away mail pile. Her fingers followed the detailed illustration. Valley folds. Mountain folds. Multiple folds. A paper butterfly emerged out of a pleated cocoon. In a flippant mood, the librarian sent her handiwork fluttering over the top of the partition.
An annoyed voice came from the other side. “What on earth was that?”
Peering around the wall, Lily saw her origami masterpiece lodged in the upswept hairdo of her stern boss, Library Director Trummel.
“Whoops,” Lily said, “sorry about that.”
“Playtime’s over.” Ms. Trummel flicked the paper insect to the floor. “Have you found a replacement exhibit for the baseball cards? They gave us such a short cancellation notice.”
“Nothing yet, but I’ll find something.”
“Try to find a replacement soon, will you?” Director Trummel handed over an official envelope. “This is for you from the Groverly City Employment Services.”
Tearing open the flap, Lily pulled out and unfolded a single piece of paper.
Dear Ms. McFae:
Due to unfortunate cutbacks, the position of Assistant
Director will expire in two months. Please consider this your official termination notice.
Her mind stumbled and stopped. No words formed and a throbbing swept through her body. She closed her eyes. Her job of watching over precious, old volumes in the Special Collections Room would be gone. A wave of disbelief engulfed her.
Ms. Trummel adjusted the crisp cuffs of her business suit. “Unfortunately, you’re the first to go, but the library’s financial problems are real and there must be sacrifices.”
Lily counted. “It took twenty-four words to officially strike down my life as I know it. Is my head the only one on the guillotine?”
“Yes, but consider this, the blade’s not falling for a while. You must have heard the budget rumors and talk of cutbacks.” Ms. Trummel looked around, examining Lily’s cubicle. “That letter is the reason I’ve assigned you a speaking engagement, a small road trip so you can get away from here. I received a request from a woman named Piper Valerian in Nolan. Since her town has no library, she needs help starting a community book club. I thought you’d like to get out of the building to consider your options.”
Lily bent to pick up the paper butterfly and set it aside. “I’m not the best public speaker. Perhaps someone else should go.”
“No one else is available. Think of this as your last chance to shine.”
“I don’t feel like shining. Maybe reflecting.” She considered her recent run-in with Director Trummel, the argument over removing classics and other selections from the shelves. As Assistant Director, she’d protested the new library edict: Due to lack of shelf space, any book not checked out within the last two years would be sent to a state warehouse and retrieved only by special request. The elaborate protest she’d staged had failed. Maybe that recent maneuver figured in her dismissal.
Ms. Trummel examined the tall stack of books on Lily’s desk. Tap, tap, the perfectly manicured finger sounded on the top book cover. “These are classics you’ve checked out because they were in trouble, right? You do skate near the edge, don’t you?”
“You know I’ve been a dedicated librarian and reliable worker in the system for years.” Bitterness sounded in Lily’s voice as she crumpled the letter and stuffed it in her pocket. “I take exception to my dismissal. I really must.” Her raised tone carried out into other cubicles.
“Your bad attitude is showing, Lily. Nothing is permanent in today’s business world. Let me know when you find the exhibit replacement. By the way, you’re on call in half an hour for the Readers’ Advisory Desk.” The Director’s heels clipped down the hall.
Dragging her feet, Lily followed a few steps behind to find consolation in library books she loved. Her willowy frame in a wrinkled, loose linen dress and her unruly auburn hair, were in marked contrast to the high style figure of her boss.
But head high, Lily strode the stacks like a duchess in her garden, walking through the rows, choosing selections for the start-up book club as she remembered favored fiction. The plot of Willa Cather’s Death Comes for the Archbishop. The characters in Middlemarch by George Eliot. The lilting phrases and passages of Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Rather than best sellers for the new reading group, she gravitated to beloved classics. An additional factor in her choices was the absence of checkout dates. She pulled an assortment of books in trouble, those that had inspired readers for ages, but not recently. Later at her desk, she’d decide on a varied assortment of reading to present to the club.
Back in her cubbyhole, Lily’s hands moved slowly through the pieces of junk mail and one by one, dropped them into the waste-basket, until her desk was almost clear. She unfolded the origami butterfly made from the scarlet flyer and smoothed the creases. As she studied the ad copy about seeds for sale from the Jardin Estate in Europe, her heart leapt.
Alsatian Heirloom Seeds for Sale
Poisonous and Nonpoisonous
For Decorative Use Only
From the Medieval Garden of the Jardin Estates
Home of the hidden, sealed Book of Cures
Jardin Wine & Herbal Seed Prices Inside
Immediately, her mind jumped to a certain volume in the Special Collections Room, Unexplained Ancient Mysteries, Volume II, a rare encyclopedia that was her favorite browsing book. The only such volume known to exist, she found it a mixed delight of history, mystery and unraveled puzzles. She was certain the flyer tied into an article in that encyclopedia.
She rushed off to the library’s inner haven of collectibles and donn
ed the compulsory white gloves. Standing still, she let the printer’s ink of ancient writers enfold her. The subtle aura of antique fonts on deepened pigskin replaced the unexpected words of her termination letter. She breathed in the perfume of old books, catching a whiff of Egyptian marble paper and the scent of elephant folios.
After a few minutes, the sense of grace, wit, beauty, and intelligence persisting on pages for hundreds of years eased her troubled mind. And the tension in her shoulders disappeared.
Lifting her favorite encyclopedic reference from its assigned place, her gloved finger trailed down the index to find the article on page 102.
Accounts occasionally surface about the existence of a hidden manuscript, called the Book of Cures, hidden away by the Jardin family in Alsace. The story revolves around the book of the Duchess Jardin, her garden, and a healing gypsy. The family maintains the book was discovered during World War I when battles came near the Jardin Estate, and the storage vault was cleared for a shelter. Interviews with family members indicated they believed the book might contain information about herbal experiments conducted in the 1500’s, perhaps using unsafe garden herbs. It’s rumored that possibilities include remedies for dropsy, tremors, growths and confusion that might relate to cancer, heart disease and Alzheimer’s. Herbalists find the mention of an anti-aging tea with sexually stimulating side effects particularly interesting.
Her mind flitted off course when she read the phrase “sexually stimulating side effects.” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Regarding romantic prospects, things were different now. Since her surgery, she’d turned to the library bookshelves, letting classic lovers remind her of past encounters. The rough weave of herringbone. A loosened collar. The feel of a man’s whiskers on a tanned face. Soft mouths together. Hardness pressed against her. Lily jerked back to the present, put on her glasses and read on.
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