by Bree Baker
I turned on my toes and headed back to the café’s interior, desperate for the frigid air conditioning to cool me down; Grady followed. “Do you think it works like that with everyone who owns a business around here? Maybe I’ll get free stuff everywhere soon.”
I waited while he slid the patio door shut behind us. “Planning to save us all, are you?”
“At least you and the ice cream guy. Denver would love that.”
I laughed. My phone buzzed, and I freed it from my pocket, expecting a message from Aunt Clara, who liked to help with the lunch crowd.
Multiple limousines spotted on Middletown Street. Celebrity visit?
I showed the notification to Grady. “I registered for the Town Charmer’s newsfeed.”
He frowned.
“Finally, I’ll be in the loop,” I said.
The wind chimes jingled again, and two familiar silhouettes swept inside. The short one ran directly into Grady’s arms. “Daddy!”
Grady raised Denver overhead like an airplane. “Buddy.”
The closing door balanced the lighting, and I smiled at Denise in her perfect Tiffany-blue sundress. “Water?” I guessed.
“Yes, please.” Her smile was unusually tight and her voice mildly strained. “Grady? Can I speak with you for a moment?”
He lowered Denver onto his hip. The smile he’d worn at first sight of his son was gone, replaced by the blank cop face that made me nervous. I guessed he’d heard the fear in her tone too.
I took my time getting two new napkins, a water, and a lemonade, my newest recipe created just for Denver Hays.
A woman at the counter waved to me. “What’s in your Honey Vanilla Tea?”
I pulled a fully laminated menu from the pile behind me and ferried it to her fast. “The teas are in alphabetical order. Ingredients are listed to the right of each.” Mr. Paine had been right. Folks wanted to know what they were consuming, and I’d needed to let go of all the secrecy. How I made my products was proprietary, but what went in them shouldn’t be.
The door opened again, and Aunt Clara walked inside, waving a handkerchief dramatically overhead. “Hello!”
Half the patrons stopped eating to welcome her.
I returned to Denise and Grady with ears primed for whatever news had made the most beautiful girl on earth look like she’d seen a shark. She stood so close to Grady that only Denver’s small frame separated them. “She’s here,” Denise whispered.
I inched closer to the pair sharing a secret. “Grady?” I asked, suddenly willing to give up a prime eavesdropping situation for his benefit. “Do you want to talk privately?” I asked. “If so, I bet Denver would like to meet Lou the seagull.”
“Yeah!” Denver swung his body toward mine, nearly plummeting from Grady’s grip. “Seagulls are cool!”
I hoisted him onto my hip and moved to the deck again, the warm weight of a sweet boy in my arms and a deep sense of gratitude in my heart. Denver had taken a liking to me the day Grady had brought him over for a visit after I was released from the hospital. We’d talked about horses, and I’d shared some local legends about the Spanish galleons that had crashed against our shores centuries ago, spilling mustangs onto the land. Those same lucky horses’ ancestors ran wild here today. Denver had eaten up every word exactly as I had when Grandma first shared those stories with me.
Aunt Clara stopped me short of making it to the rear deck. “What’s with the line of limousines outside? I half expected to find Rod Stewart in here.”
I turned for the café entrance. “First let’s see some limos,” I told Denver.
He rested his cheek on my shoulder. “Boring.”
Grady and Denise were already on the porch when I got there.
I gave a long whistle. Aunt Clara and the community blogger were wrong: there wasn’t a parade of limousines, there was one limousine and convoy of government SUVs out front.
“What’s going on?” I asked Grady and Denise, hefting Denver higher. I fixed Grady with a curious stare. “Are those vehicles here for you?”
He and Denise exchanged a look. Grady had been a big deal at the U.S. Marshals Service. It was plausible this was about him, wasn’t it? Maybe they wanted him back? “If you’d like, I can prepare something for everyone. Invite them inside. It’s no problem.” Heck, I’d make Thanksgiving dinner if he wanted, anything to know who was behind the black tinted glass and how they were connected to Grady. “Denise?” I asked, pressing the weak link. I doubted this was about her, but she knew exactly what was happening. I could see it on her face and in her rigid stance. She’d come here to warn him, asking to speak with him moments before the caravan arrived. “What’s happening?”
She shot her arms out for Denver. “I’ll take him to her,” she said, putting up a bright but very fake smile. “Ready, sweetie?”
Denver went to Denise without a fuss. He turned happy eyes back to me. “First Grandma, then I meet Lou, right, Everly?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, completely befuddled. “Maybe we can even find something to feed him.”
“Cool!”
Denise squared her shoulders and descended my porch stairs with the enthusiasm of a funeral procession. Grady shifted his weight and locked long tan fingers over narrow hips.
“Did he say ‘Grandma?’” I asked, eyeballing Denise and Denver from behind. Whose grandma comes with an escort of government SUVs? And why wasn’t Grady going with them?
“Yep.”
“Your mother?” I guessed. It would explain his wild success at the marshals service.
Grady mindlessly thumbed the space on his left ring finger where a wedding band had briefly lived. “No.”
“Your wife’s mother?”
Grady groaned. “She’s a story for another day.” He rubbed his palms against his thighs, then made the same slow descent Denise had made before him.
I craned my neck for a look inside the limo when the door swung open. A pair of thin legs appeared, complete with black heels and a pair of reaching hands well-appointed in diamonds. The woman never leaned forward as she helped her grandson and his au pair inside.
Grady gave me one last look before joining his family inside the vehicle. A moment later, the convoy purred to life and pulled away in a strangely formal parade.
I wandered back into Sun, Sand, and Tea with a head full of new questions.
Aunt Clara looked up from a table near the window, a sweating pitcher of tea poised in her hand. “What was that about?” she asked.
“A story for another day,” I said, repeating Grady’s words.
A story I planned to get to the bottom of as soon as possible.
I smiled my way through the crowded room, thankful for a bustling café, wacky, loving aunts, and our tight-knit seaside community.
It was probably too soon to think it, but I was thankful for Grady in my life too.
Mostly, I was glad for a future where anything was possible and all my best adventures were still ahead.
Summer Strawberry and Peach Tea
Nothing complements a hot summer day like this Swan Family Favorite, so dive in and enjoy!
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Yields: 16 servings
10 cups cold water, divided
1 cup strawberry preserves
8 herbal peach tea bags
12 fresh strawberries, cored and sliced
Ice
Using a medium saucepan, add 4 cups of water, strawberry preserves, and peach tea bags, and bring to a boil. Remove from heat, and steep 15 minutes.
Pour in remaining 6 cups of cold water. Remove tea bags and let cool completely. Then, add strawberry slices, and stir.
Refrigerate until ready to serve. Pour over ice.
Iced Chai Latte
Time for a midday pick-you-up? Try Everly’s Iced Chai Latte. Caffeinate
d tea with a latte to love.
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Yields: 10 servings
10 cups milk, 2 percent or skim
5 tablespoons refined granulated sugar
10 chai tea bags
½ teaspoon cardamom
Cinnamon, ground, for garnish
Ice
In a large saucepan, bring the milk, sugar, tea bags, and cardamom to a boil, stirring often. Remove from heat and steep 5 minutes. Remove tea bags and chill in the refrigerator until ready to serve.
Serve over ice and garnish with cinnamon.
Carolina Cucumber Sandwiches
Need something light and refreshing after a long day at the beach in the sun or something to serve at your next garden party? Try Everly’s Carolina Cucumber Sandwiches for the perfect summer fix.
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Yields: 48 sandwiches
1 cucumber, seedless, peeled and thinly sliced
1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened to room temperature
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
¼ teaspoon celery salt
Dash of Worcestershire sauce
1 loaf pumpernickel bread, thinly sliced without crust
Splash of freshly squeezed lemon juice
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Line cucumber slices on paper towels to drain. In a medium bowl, mix the cream cheese, dill, garlic powder, celery salt, and Worcestershire sauce until well blended and creamy.
Arrange two slices of the pumpernickel bread on your work space, and spread a thin layer of the mixture onto each slice.
Cut the slices into circles with a cookie cutter. Center a cucumber slice onto each sandwich, spritz with lemon juice, and dash with pepper, to taste.
Serve open-faced.
Acknowledgments
Thank you, dear readers, for picking up this book and giving Everly’s story a chance. By doing that, you’ve made my dream possible, and I am endlessly, eternally grateful to you.
I would also like to thank my editor, Anna Michels, for seeing promise in my work, and for allowing me to be part of the Sourcebooks team. I’m so proud and honored. Thank you, Jill Marsal, my agent, my Yoda, mentor, and friend. You’re changing my life. I can’t really thank you properly for that. My critique ladies, Keri and Jennifer, for making my words better. My mother-in-law, Darlene, for all the untold hours of encouragement and babysitting. My parents, for making me believe I could change the world. Noah, Andrew, and Lily, thank you for putting up with a frantic, harebrained, weirdo of a mom. I’m sorry to say, I’ve rubbed off on one or two of you. Good luck.
Finally, my husband, Bryan, who asked a quiet and sensible office administrator to be his wife many years ago. I’m sorry to say she’s turned out to be a killer.
About the Author
Bree Baker is a Midwestern writer obsessed with small-town hijinks, sweet tea, and the sea. She’s been telling stories to her family, friends, and strangers for as long as she can remember, and more often than not, those stories feature a warm ocean breeze and a recipe she’s sure to ruin. Now she’s working on those fancy cooking skills and dreaming up adventures for the Seaside Café Mysteries. Bree is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and the Romance Writers of America.
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