by Holly Plum
WEDDING BELLS AND A BODY
A Patty Cakes Bake Shop Cozy Mystery
Holly Plum
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright
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
Chapter 17
Also by Holly Plum
Thank You!
Copyright © 2017 by Holly Plum
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Powdery donuts, decadent eclairs, and flaky hazelnut pastries. Nothing felt more right to Joy Cooke than spending the early morning hours of a new day baking, seeing the numerous baking sheets filled with goodies and then transferring them to the display case. Joy wasn’t always successful at exhibiting cheerfulness, but there was nothing that could point her in the right direction like a few hours of baking. She breathed in the scent of a fresh croissant as the buttery layers melted in her mouth and her fingers made indentations wherever they touched the delicate pastry. Some said that Yoga was the best therapy. Joy had to disagree—baking certainly trumped everything else.
“Morning.” Sara Beth’s voice was sing-song, just as it was every day. She carried a travel mug of her usual beverage of choice – sweet tea. It wasn't unusual for her to sip through quite a few refills as the day progressed.
Joy began arranging scones on a tray. It was only a few moments before Sara Beth joined her.
"Good morning," Joy responded.
“And how are we feeling today?” Sara Beth asked in her charming Southern accent. Her ruffled shirt and golden hair piled on her head like a proper Southern Belle only added to her typical persona.
“Fine,” Joy answered, never pausing in her work. “How are you?”
“Oh, honey, do I have news for you.”
Joy didn’t bother to suppress the sigh that escaped her lips as she looked at her assistant like it was far too early for the latest gossip.
“Listen to this,” Sara Beth went on.
Joy did little more than send her a wary glance, knowing that there was no way out of hearing this one. Sara Beth was all worked up.
“The Sugar Room is selling cat and dog treats, just like us, Joy.”
Joy’s only reaction was to hesitate in her pastry stacking for a split second before moving right along.
“I hear a few people outside all abuzz over them. They say their pets just love them. And they’re nutritious too—could end up with their own article in the local paper.”
“Who are you, the head reporter for the Gazette?”
“I might as well be,” Sara Beth said, lifting her chin as if it were a compliment. “I know more about this town than I care to sometimes."
Joy sighed again. “I just asked you how you are and you had to go spoiling my morning. No more talk of The Sugar Room or the owner, Maple McWayne.”
“It wasn’t meant to spoil your morning,” Sara Beth said, her brows lowering contritely. “We have kitty cookies, but Maple also has doggie donuts. You should try your hand at making a batch of those. I bet they would sell great and they’ll certainly be better than anything The Sugar Room can serve up because we all know you’re the best. We just have to step up our game.”
“By copying the competitors? I don't think that is a good idea. Besides, if I’m really the best bakery in town then we shouldn’t be too worried about the competition, should we? And we do have dog treats.”
“Suit yourself, honey,” Sara Beth said around a bite of croissant she’d plucked off of the tray.
Joy replaced the croissant Sara Beth had taken and then lifted the full tray, carrying it to the front of the store. She heard her assistant following behind her, and she could practically hear Sara Beth opening her mouth to go on when the bell over the front door chimed. Any more talk about Maple McWayne and she was going to be in a bad mood all day. That woman had been trying to put her out of business for years.
“Good morning,” Joy greeted the couple who’d entered the bakery. The man looked much older than his youthful spouse, and the woman was already chatting about how delicious everything smelled. She wore a polo shirt with the emblem and name of a golf club on the front. Her brown hair was permed in a way that made it clear she wasn’t from Florida. No one around here knew how to follow through with giving a decent perm—Sara Beth had tried everywhere before resorting back to her natural, wavy hair, saying that God would have given her curls if she were meant to have them. The man was tall, close to six feet with tastefully graying sideburns and a mellow demeanor.
“What can I do for the two of you?” Joy asked.
“Hi,” the woman responded, offering a ready smile. “My name is Fern. We were wondering if you make wedding cakes.”
Joy smiled. She loved making wedding cakes, and it had been a while since she'd booked one. Joy wanted to come across as professional, so she had to resist the urge to reach out and slap Sara Beth when she continued to clap excitedly at the prospect of a new assignment to tackle.
“Well, why don’t you both take a seat and I’ll get pie for everyone.” Joy gestured toward her best table. The one by the window with loads of natural light.
“This early?” Fern chuckled, not unkindly.
The most surprising thing to visitors was the downright Southern hospitality that resonated throughout the little Florida beach town.
“It’s never too early for pie,” Joy insisted. “Especially when it’s apple oat. Does that sound alright for everyone?”
The couple agreed and took a seat at the small table near the window.
“Your mother was always the perfect hostess as well,” Fern said, smiling as Joy returned.
"You knew my mother?" Joy eagerly asked. She never turned down the chance to learn more about her late mother, Patty.
“My grandmother used to bring me in here as a little girl when I came to visit in the summer,” Fern replied. “Dorothy. Dorothy Wallace is her name.”
Joy knew the name well. “Oh, yes," she said as she sat down, fork already in hand. “So you’re her little Fern. She talks about you all the time.”
“She’s always seen the best in me. Your mother, Patty, always had a container of brownies ready for Grandma to pick up when we arrived.”
“Yes, the tradition has continued, except that I deliver them to her house now. Every Friday.” Joy nodded.
“How kind. Thank you so much for doing that. I know she loves her sweets.”
“So, when’s the wedding date?” Joy worked hard not to look distracted as the tartness of the apples in the pie exploded on her tongue. Adding that extra quarter cup of brown sugar had been the best idea she’d had in a while. Just such a breakthrough was enough to get her fired up to
conquer this wedding cake.
“Actually it’s a kind of second wedding,” Fern said. “We’re here for a family reunion, and since I remember coming here as a little girl, we thought it would be the perfect time to renew our vows.”
“We’re happily married,” Fern’s husband said, speaking his first words since entering the bakery. “But, my wife’s very sentimental.”
Fern didn’t appear offended by his comment but only chuckled. “Yes, that’s certainly true.”
Joy barely had the self-control to put down her fork. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.
“It’s Ivan," the man answered.
Joy shook the hand he offered. “Nice to meet you. Well, tell me about the plans you have for the wedding so far.”
“We want to be remarried at the hotel where our family reunion is being held. It’s on the beach. I love simple elegance. Still, I wouldn’t mind some sort of reference to golf.” Fern chuckled. “I’m a professional golfer.”
Though Fern treated the request sheepishly, Joy only nodded in determination. “I’m sure we can create something wonderful that’ll work for you and taste good too. With all of those family members that’ll be in town, you shouldn't settle for anything but the best. When would you like to come and sample your options?”
“We were hoping to have the ceremony on Thursday.” Fern looked over at Ivan who only shrugged, leaving the decision to his wife. “Would that give you enough time?”
Joy nodded. “Definitely. Can you come back this evening? The bakery will be closing by then, so you’ll have my undivided attention.”
Fern beamed. “Thank you so much, Joy. It really does mean a lot to me that you’re going to be the one to do this. My grandmother truly adored your mother.”
Joy smiled. “Of course. Thanks for stopping by.”
The three of them sat for a little longer as they all finished their pie even as the early morning customers began to stream into the shop.
“May I send you with any pastries or coffee?” Joy offered when they all stood.
“We have plans, so, no thank you,” Ivan interjected. He seemed ready to be on his way. He didn't seem as enthusiastic about renewing his wedding vows as Fern was.
“No problem,” Joy amended, hardly seeming to notice her husband’s curtness. Joy figured that Fern must be quite used to covering for his less inviting manner.
“We’ll certainly take something to go next time," Fern added. "I still remember how delicious the cookies were when your mother used to bake them.”
Joy bid the couple goodbye and was instantly bombarded by Sara Beth who wanted to know all the details.
“I’ll tell you later,” Joy said, swatting her overzealous assistant away. “We have customer’s waiting.”
Joy’s attitude did nothing to dim Sara Beth’s excitement over the wedding cake. Joy knew that if it weren’t for her bubbly, Southern assistant, she would probably succumb to being gloomy far more often. A business-like attitude came more naturally to her than genuine joy. But, Sara Beth certainly helped her to remember to be cheerful or at least smile when she was serving customers.
Joy was proud of how Sara Beth refrained from mentioning the wedding cake for the rest of the day, but she was practically busting at the seams when it was time to turn the open sign to closed. Joy was just walking toward the door to do just that when someone entered the bakery. True to the Southern hospitality that ruled the town, Joy stepped aside to let him in because she would never have dreamed of locking the door in his face.
“Welcome. Can I help you?”
The man wore a pressed suit, had dark, slicked back hair, and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Joy had never seen him before, and she thought how strange it was to see three new faces at the bakery in one day. However, the irony of what this stranger was about to tell her wasn’t only strange but bordered on eerie.
“Ma’am, my name’s James Sacks. I’m a lawyer. Are you Joy Cooke?”
Joy’s brow lowered in confusion. “Yes,” she answered, uncertainly.
“I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news, but Dorothy Wallace has passed away.”
CHAPTER TWO
Joy found herself incapable of words after hearing the news of Dorothy Wallace's passing.
It felt like a nightmare—she and Fern had just been discussing the woman that very afternoon, and there was a batch of double chocolate brownies already wrapped and ready to be delivered to Dorothy's house right on schedule.
“Thank you for delivering the news, but why are you here?” Joy was working hard to maintain her composure as she looked at the lawyer in front of her.
“I’m responsible for attending to Ms. Wallace’s wishes,” Mr. Sacks responded.
“Yes, naturally, but I didn’t think the lawyer bore the news of one's passing unless it had something to do with the will.”
“And it does.”
Joy’s look was one of pure confusion.
“Can we sit down?” Mr. Sacks suggested.
“N-no,” Joy stammered, but the lawyer was already taking her arm and leading her to the table she’d sat at with Fern and Ivan.
“I think it would be best," James said. "Can I get you a glass of water?”
Joy only shook her head. “What is this about?”
Mr. Sacks didn’t leave her in suspense any longer and got right to it. “Dorothy Wallace has left you a sizable inheritance. Actually, she’s left you most of her fortune.”
Mr. Sacks was occupied with unfolding a few official-looking documents and missed the shock on Joy’s face. Joy’s gaze swung to Sara Beth who appeared equally bewildered.
“Here is the amount of money you can expect,” Mr. Sacks began.
Joy waved her hand at him. “She hasn't even been buried yet.”
“Ms. Cooke, it’s important that these matters are settled as soon as possible,” the lawyer insisted. Of course, Joy knew he was only doing his job.
“Yes. But I need a little time to think. Could we meet at another time?” Joy took a deep breath, attempting to gather her thoughts.
“That would be alright. Or, would you like me to send you the details of the will that relate to you and then you can contact me with your questions?”
Joy nodded. “That would be much better.”
“No problem," James responded. "I know it’s a lot to take in, but I will need to meet with you in person eventually in order to proceed.”
Joy could only manage another nod.
With that, Mr. Sacks stood. “I have your address. I’ll mail the documents to you as soon as possible. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Joy watched him leave. It was Fern who should be accepting condolences in regards to Ms. Wallace. Ms. Wallace had been a dear friend of her mother. Joy and Patty had treasured Dorothy's every visit, though it was still so unexpected that Joy had been named the beneficiary of her fortune.
Joy stood, moving to stack some empty pastry trays. They clattered on top of one another, falling from her clammy hands.
“Go on home,” Sara Beth said, taking over the task. Her voice still held shock, but she was acting much calmer than Joy. “I’ll finish up.”
Joy didn’t see any reason to argue. She couldn’t get home to her own thoughts fast enough, and she would probably end up turning the bakery upside down if she attempted to go about cleaning up with such a distracted mind. She hardly remembered the drive home to her beach bungalow. Joy mechanically checked the mail and entered through the front door. The comforting meow of her fluffy, white cat, Cheesecake was the most welcome sound she could think of.
“Hi, boy,” Joy crooned, dropping her purse on the kitchen table. She reached up, tugging the hair tie from her thick, dark hair and allowing it to fall past her shoulders. The snow white cat stared steadily up at her with oval, blue eyes until she’d removed her shoes and was ready to sweep him up in her arms. Unlike most cats who squirmed when confronted with such attention, Cheesecake gave hi
mself up to it, instantly turning into a ragdoll.
Joy dropped onto the sofa, clutching her faithful companion close.
Why had Dorothy Wallace left her all of her money? Why hadn't she left it to family? It wasn’t as if Joy couldn’t use the money. The bakery always needed something, and right now the replacement of an oven and the fixing of the leaky back roof were of utmost important. The money would certainly help with that, but how could she spend the money of a woman she wasn't even related to.
Joy pulled Cheesecake from her chest, looking down into his purring face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as he shut his eyes. Mr. Sacks hadn’t said anything about the events surrounding the elderly woman’s death. Up until now, Joy had been thinking subconsciously that it must have been old age. True, Dorothy Wallace hadn’t been in any condition to walk to the bakery to buy double chocolate brownies for herself for over a year, but she’d hardly appeared to be at death’s door. It was too strange—too sudden.
Normally Joy would have made her way right to the kitchen after work, ready to eat a well-overdue lunch but instead, she stayed put on the sofa. The next thing she knew she’d fallen asleep and was being awakened by knocking on her front door. She rolled over, tilting her head up to listen, disoriented. Cheesecake mewed in protest at her movement which disrupted his position beside her. Since she was in no mood to answer the door, Joy considered ignoring it altogether. The knocking didn’t stop. Scowling, she squinted at the clock. She’d slept for almost two hours, and it was now dark outside.
Joy finally swung her legs off of the couch, careful to avoid bumping Cheesecake. The light from the front room could be seen through the window. She couldn’t very well pretend she wasn’t home. Before she could decide to sink back onto the couch, Joy made her way to the door, doing her best to appear alert. She instantly dreaded her decision when she opened the door to a stranger. The last thing she wanted to do was face another unfamiliar man today. But, unfamiliarity wasn’t the worst part of answering the door.
