by Holly Plum
“Hello, Mr. Sacks," Joy greeted him. Joy tried to take another calming breath. The lawyer was back. Joy was encouraged by the fact that Mr. Sacks offered her a smile.
“Please, call me James," he responded. "I heard you’ve had quite a time since our last meeting.”
“I’m hoping you’re here with good news." Joy rested her elbows on the counter, bracing herself for more obstacles.
“Dorothy's investigation has been resolved,” James said. “I have been given permission to go ahead with the will."
“What a relief,” Joy remarked.
“There are still a couple of things we need to discuss. May I sit down?” James gestured toward a table near the window.
“Yes, of course," Joy replied. "Can I get you coffee or anything?”
“Coffee would be great.” James took a seat and opened his briefcase. Joy poured him a cup and then quickly sat down.
“So, we’re back to where we started," James began. "You’re still the inheritor of Dorothy Wallace’s fortune.”
Sara Beth stopped chewing, her cinnamon roll halfway to her mouth. She obviously had no intention of setting it aside, but also no desire to miss a word of Joy's conversation with Dorothy's lawyer.
“I already know what I want to do with the money,” Joy said.
James looked a little taken aback. “You do? I didn’t think you would have had the chance to think about it much.”
“Yeah, well, your life flashing before your eyes forces you to decide quickly," she responded, dryly.
“Alright.” James grinned at Joy's response.
“I would like to return the majority of the money to the Wallace family. I appreciate the gesture from Dorothy, but the right thing to do would be to give her money to her children. Not every member of that clan is completely insane, and I know that it could help them out a lot.”
James raised his eyebrows. “It is up to you. I’m sure the Wallace’s will appreciate it. It’s a rather kind gesture, I might say, after what you went through."
Joy shook her head. “Death can make people do ugly things. I understand that now. I do have one condition, though.”
“Name it,” James replied.
“I need a new oven. I intend to dedicate it to Dorothy since it’ll make it possible for us to continue baking the double chocolate brownies she loved so much.”
“I think it’s safe to say that Dorothy would be pleased with that decision,” James said. “One thing is very evident. She appreciated you and this bakery very much.”
"Then throw in a few more bucks for the leaky roof," Sara Beth blurted out from behind the register.
“Ignore her,” Joy said. “Not having to pay for a new oven will save me a ton of money." Joy paused. "Dorothy, like my mother who opened this little bake shop, will be missed.”
"Well, I am glad you know what you want," James went on. "I will draw up all of the paperwork."
“Do you happen to know what became of Violet Wallace?" Joy cleared her throat. "Have the charges against her been dropped?"
“Detective Sugar let her go,” James answered. “Although, I do think she has decided to check herself into a rehab clinic for her apparent drug abuse.”
“So, those pill she hid at Dorothy's were hers?”
James nodded. “It seems she’d been doing that for a while, along with stealing some of Dorothy's trinkets. The investigation revealed her problem just in time.”
“And Ivan?”
James’ expression was regretful. “He will be sentenced accordingly. There is no hope for him now.”
It wasn’t the kind of ending anyone would wish for, but the truth had been discovered, and now anyone could do was move forward.
"Poor Fern," Joy said quietly.
“I still have a few things for you to sign before I go.” James seemed to be talented at steering any conversation back to business matters.
“Won’t that snippy Ross be surprised by your decision?” Sara Beth added, bouncing over with half a cinnamon roll still in her hand.
“It’s not about that, Sara Beth,” Joy said.
“Oh, I know, honey,” Sara Beth replied, taking a moment to lick the sugar from her fingers. “Still, it’s a very generous gesture, and it’ll serve him right for ever accusing you of anything. You’re showing the exact generosity Dorothy showed toward you, and it would do him good to follow the example of both you ladies.”
James chuckled. “I must say, I have to agree. Ross has been rather disagreeable, but we can hope that’s all in the past. I’m sure you’re ready for things to go back to usual as well.”
“Most definitely,” Joy answered.
“It’s settled then,” James said, standing. “It looks as if your part in this is just about finished, Ms. Cooke.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Joy responded.
“Finally some good news,” Sara Beth chimed in again.
Joy had to agree. The mystery of Dorothy's murder had been solved, and Joy was going to end up with a new oven. Now, all she needed was her fluffy, white feline Cheesecake.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The work day was almost through when the bakery’s phone rang. Joy’s guard went up when she heard Greta’s voice on the other end. James had told her that her involvement in this situation was at an end. The last thing she wanted to do was instigate new drama.
“How are you, Joy?” Greta asked.
“Fine, much better at this point,” Joy responded, tentatively. “How are you?”
“Feeling like there are some apologies that need to be made.”
“Who do you want me to apologize to?” Joy asked.
The question brought forth the ever-confident laugh from Greta. “I don’t want you to apologize to anyone, my dear. But, I do think a sorry from Ross and Zinny is in order. The rest of us would like to extend our apologies too as this has been a very trying ordeal.”
Joy was left speechless for a moment. “Really?”
Greta sighed. “This was not the way I would have wished to honor my mother. All families are dysfunctional, but ours is, as you know, very dysfunctional. I only hope we can make amends at least a little. I believe in karma, and if we leave things as they are, negativity will always come our way.”
Though Greta was one of the Wallace members that Joy knew the about, she realized that she shouldn’t have been surprised by Greta's down-to-business attitude. Joy was grateful that Greta seemed to be a voice of reason.
"Well, thank you for the kind words," Joy replied.
“I was wondering if you would meet us back at the Diamond Shell Hotel,” Greta continued. “We’re all reconvening there before everyone leaves town.”
“Oh, I don't think I could. And Fern…"
“Fern will be fine,” Greta answered, matter-of-factly.
“Won't meeting at the hotel remind Fern of her wedding party she had planned?” Joy asked. “I don't want to cause any more heartbreak." Joy paused and took a deep breath, feeling as if closure was something she should offer and partake in with the Wallace's. After all, Dorothy did hold a special place in her heart. "Why don’t you all come to the bakery?”
“What a fantastic idea,” Greta said. “Thank you for the offer. We’ll be there, and I promise we will all be on our best behavior.”
The moment Joy hung up the phone, Sara Beth was at her side waiting for answers. She reminded Joy of a puppy begging for table scraps. She repeatedly blinked, trying to appear fairly innocent.
“Looks like my time with the Wallace family isn’t over.”
“Really? What do you mean?” Sara Beth’s eyes grew as she listened, though she had eavesdropped on Joy's conversation. “Are they trying to open a case against you? Mr. Sacks said it was all over with.”
“No, it’s not that,” Joy explained. “They are all meeting up today before the family members leave town. They were going to meet at the Diamond Shell Hotel, but I offered for them to come here.”
Sara Beth
looked as if she were preparing for a battle. “Well, have no fear, honey. I intend to stay here with you. I won’t let you face that pack of wolves alone.”
Joy smiled, as always, grateful for her assistant's undying loyalty. “I want you to be here, of course. But, I don’t think it’s going to be like facing hungry wolves this time. And if it is, we have plenty of baked goods. I think they all just want to apologize.”
"Are you sure about that? I mean, they have lied in the past. A lot." Sara Beth’s expression was skeptical.
Joy chuckled, moving back toward the kitchen. “We have to give them a chance now that things are sorted. We can’t assume the worst of them forever, can we?”
“I suppose not,” Sara Beth said, lifting her chin. “What kinds of pastries do we have left over from this morning? Or shall I bake a batch of macadamia nut cookies?”
“Whatever we have left will be plenty,” Joy answered.
“And lots of sweet tea,” Sara Beth added. “I’ll make plenty of it.”
***
The arrival of the Wallace family, minus Violet, went far smoother than Joy had ever expected. Everyone displayed impeccable manners, and it seemed that they all were ready to make amends.
“Thank you so much again for having us, my dear,” Greta said, once again donning a rather prim, business-like outfit. “I appreciate you allowing members of this family to set foot in your bakery.”
Greta gave her a pat on the shoulder, and Fern followed her.
“Fern,” Joy said, her heart sinking. It was the first time she’d seen her since her husband was carted away by the police. “How are you?”
Fern was already shaking her head. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. None of this was your fault. I just thought you should know that.”
“Still, it’s terrible what happened,” Joy insisted. “I hope you really are doing okay.”
Fern sniffed. “I somehow thought that renewing our vows would help mend things between Ivan and me. I guess I knew our marriage was in trouble a long time ago.”
Joy demonstrated her empathy through silence.
“But,” Fern continued, obviously working hard to appear brave. “I have my family around me."
Joy assured her that all she wanted was for things to turn out right for everyone. She reminded herself of this as Ross approached her. The man could hardly look her in the eyes.
“I’m very sorry for the accusations I made against you, Ms. Cooke," Ross stated.”
"Thankfully, it is all over." Joy took a deep breath. "Now, Dorothy can rest in peace."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Here we are,” Sara Beth announced as she burst into the bakery the next day, letting Cheesecake run free.
“Hello, sweet kitty of mine,” Joy exclaimed, soaking in her cat’s contented, motor-like purring.
“He missed you,” Sara Beth said.
“I certainly hope so considering how painful it was for me to have him away.”
Joy took a few more moments to stroke her cat and tell him how much he’d been missed before Sara Beth spoke.
“Why don’t we take a little walk?”
Joy’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I want to show you what I taught him.”
“Oh, no," Joy argued. "You didn’t teach him to walk on a leash, did you?”
Sara Beth chuckled in delight before she latched a leash to Cheesecake’s collar, giving the handle to Joy. “You’re welcome.”
Joy tried to look shocked, but she couldn’t help laughing. “This is ridiculous. Okay, come on. Let’s go for a walk, Cheesecake.” Joy had to admit that she was so charmed by the way her little cat pranced down the sidewalk alongside her and Sara Beth that she paid no attention to where they were headed. Before she knew it, they’d stopped in front of The Sugar Room.
“Ugh,” Joy muttered. “Let’s get out of here before Maple sees us.”
“No, wait,” Sara Beth replied. “I think we should go inside."
“Are you crazy?”
Sara Beth, with that conspiratorial smile Joy had been wondering about all week, pulled a kitty-sized cupcake costume from her purse.
Joy gasped as Sara Beth fitted the pink costume over her cat’s head.
“You’re welcome again,” Sara Beth said. “It took me forever to teach him a special trick just for today.”
“You mean,” Joy said, catching on. “You entered Cheesecake into Maple's cutest pet contest.”
“I sure did,” Sara Beth exclaimed. “He is going to dominate. There’s no way he won’t, I mean look at him.”
He was pretty adorable with the pink frosting of the costume sticking out against his pure white coat.
"Maple is a competitor," Joy reminded her assistant. "And a harsh one at that. I don't think this is a good idea."
“Trust me. You won't want to miss this.” Sara Beth winked, and Joy's stomach churned as she followed her in The Sugar Room.
Entering Cheesecake in the contest proved to be very easy.
“Oh, hello there,” Maple greeted them as they entered the bakery. “How kind of you to support my little contest. You two are very good sports considering that my shop sells more cat and dog treats than yours.” Maple kept a pseudo smile on her face.
“It’s the neighborly thing to do,” Joy found herself saying. She did mean it, though. It seemed it was a day for making amends, putting aside prejudice and misunderstandings, first with the Wallace family and now with Maple. She and Maple were both passionate business women who seemed to butt heads too often, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t support one another.
Joy allowed herself to enjoy watching the other pets prance about the room, each taking a turn showing off his or her cuteness. Joy of course thought that Cheesecake was the absolute cutest, but was pleasantly surprised when everyone else did too.
“You, schemer,” Joy whispered to Sara Beth as she was called up to accept the first place prize.
“What are friends for, honey?” Sara Beth chuckled, waving Joy up to claim the package of kitty treats that served as a trophy.
“And the winner of this week's cutest pet contest is Cheesecake, the cat,” Maple said as she handed over the prize.
There was applause throughout the room accompanied by barks and meows.
“Thank you,” Joy responded, graciously.
“Well,” Maple said. “Shall we let your little kitty try one of our treats? I am sure he will love them.”
The bakery owner placed a fish-shaped cookie on the ground for Cheesecake’s approval. Sara Beth cleared her throat and shook her pointer finger. Cheesecake looked at her and then turned up his nose at the kitty cookie and walked away proudly.
The room filled with laughter and Maple blushed.
"He must prefer the taste of the even better kitty cakes served at Patty Cakes Bake Shop," Sara Beth said a little too loudly.
"Of all the rotten tricks," Maple muttered as she snatched back the first place prize.
“Cheesecake has always been a finicky one,” Joy said to ease Maple's embarrassment. Still, she wouldn’t deny herself the satisfaction of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Patty Cakes Bake Shop that still made the best kitty treats in town.
A Special Preview of SAYING PIE DO
A Patty Cakes Bake Shop Cozy Mystery
by Holly Plum
CHAPTER ONE
Most people prefer not to take work home with them. However, this was not the case for Joy Cooke. As she relaxed in her beach bungalow facing the glittering waters of the Florida panhandle, she fought the urge to set aside her book and get up to bake. She had been baking all day, but sometimes she never seemed to get enough of it.
Cheesecake, her mischievous but well-loved cat, blinked slowly up at her and released a small meow.
“Should we do it?”
Cheesecake jumped up from the couch, meandering toward the kitchen. It was all the prompting Joy needed. Tossing her book aside, she stood, her mouth already watering as sh
e pondered the aroma that would soon surround the bungalow.
“Scones or apple crisp?” she said out loud, running her eyes over the contents of the cupboard which she always kept fully stocked. This ensured that she was ready to make almost any baked good at any time. Joy never knew when the inspiration for a new recipe would strike.
Joy’s decision-making was cut short when she heard a knock on the door. Joy sighed, looking down at Cheesecake who was waiting eagerly for the cup of milk that always accompanied an afternoon of baking. “Sorry, pal, it’ll have to wait.”
Joy opened her front door to find a young woman she had seen in town before. It was Frances Land, a college student, and employee at the local bookshop. She always sported collared shirts and over-sized glasses that she pushed on top of her elaborate up-do whenever she needed to massage her forehead. Joy guessed that her slightly eccentric demeanor was related to the fact that she was an aspiring writer.
“Ms. Cooke,” Frances exclaimed, sounding nearly desperate.
“Hello, Frances.”
“Oh, Ms. Cooke,” the young woman hurried on, breathlessly. “I’m so glad I caught you.”
Well, you did come to my home after work hours, Joy thought.
“Here I am.”
“I desperately need your help,” Frances continued.
Joy hoped that Frances was simply being her over-zealous self and that her need wasn’t truly desperate.
Frances leaned in closer, looking as if she might pop with excitement. “Minnie Morin,” she said.
The name was met with a blank look from Joy. “Minnie Morin?”
“The bestselling mystery author, of course,” Frances exclaimed.
Joy remembered now seeing her newest book in the front window of the local bookshop. She’d never gotten into reading her books, however, since they tended to branch into a grittier area of fiction that she didn’t usually enjoy.
“We’re hosting a book launch party for her at the bookshop,” Frances stated.
