Contents
The Cheesecake Fake
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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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
RECIPE!
Nancy McGovern
Cyra Bruce
Disclaimer
A SLICE OF PARADISE COZY MYSTERY
BOOK 2:
The Cheesecake Fake
By
Nancy McGovern
&
Cyra Bruce
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Chapter 1
Slice of Paradise had been full to bursting that Sunday afternoon, and Faith and Laura flopped down at one of the customer tables – a duck egg painted wooden affair with white country chairs – and breathed huge sighs of relief. They were keeping up their Sunday tradition: sweet tea and a chat and a slice of one of their new creations.
“Wow,” Faith said, when Laura pushed over one of the floral pattern plates with a thick slice of cheesecake on it. “It looks amazing, Laura.”
Laura giggled. “I have to admit I stashed our pieces in the fridge or all the Baptists would have eaten it. I’ve just got cheesecake down and there was no way I was going to let it all go without you trying a piece. So here you are, raspberry chocolate cheesecake.”
A local church group had swarmed into Paradise Point, as it was the first really nice day of the year, the sky creamy blue, the clouds like small perfect powder puffs. The men and women in conservative swimwear were draped with beach towels, and earnest-faced little kids clutched plastic buckets and spades. Once they’d had their fill of frolicking in the hot sand and splashing about in the water, they’d wandered around in search of food.
Faith and Laura’s café – well, actually it was still technically Faith’s Grandma Bessie’s – was just moments from the beach, through a tropical tree-lined path. Under a canopy of magenta bougainvillea the church group went, and breathed a sigh of satisfaction when they saw Slice of Paradise.
Most everyone who it saw for the first time did.
When Faith had first started out on the place, it had been little more than a run-down shack with a sorely dwindling customer base and a scrubby patch of lawn out front. But she and Laura had fixed it up into the most charming little gingerbread style cottage. It was pale yellow, with a gorgeous wide veranda out the front and wrapping around the side. Laura’s cousin Nathan fixed the garden until it was blooming with frangipani and jasmine, alpinias, and gorgeously intricate passionflowers. And complete with pale cornflower blue shutters and decorative woodwork around the eaves, the tearoom really was something to behold.
“Mmm,” Faith said after trying a piece. It really was good, the flavors of raspberry and chocolate coming together in a heavenly combination. “That really is awesome.”
Laura’s eyes lit up, as they always did when she talked about baking. When Faith had arrived she’d been a novice – no, worse than a novice – but now Laura was not only proficient at the baking basics, but she was putting her spin on them, too. “Next I’m going to try apple caramel cheesecake. Or I might try this one and do secret hidden raspberries inside the cheesecake itself.”
“Good idea.” Faith nodded, already scooping up another piece with her fork. “We should totally put this in the column.”
“Yes! Ooh, and let me snap a pic for Instagram.” Laura rummaged in her bag, and Faith took another heavenly bite. Laura really had gotten good, Faith thought happily.
Laura was also a whiz when it came to all the new technology trends, whereas Faith had kind of fallen behind in that area. While Laura had a brand new smartphone, Faith was still clinging onto her ancient flip phone, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Her mom had bought it for her many many birthdays ago, and maybe Faith was reluctant to chuck it out because it was a memory she shared with her mom, who was now so far away back in Minnesota. Maybe it had something to do with it being teal, too. It was hard to find phone handsets in teal.
Soon Laura was crouching down by the side of the table, angling her iPhone at the rapidly disappearing cheesecake slice. After a couple seconds of frowning and continuous shutter sound, Laura smiled. “Perfect.” She flashed it at Faith.
Faith grinned. Somehow Laura had made it look even more delicious on screen. Laura pressed a few buttons then said, “Boom, and it’s up on the Gram.”
“The Gram,” Faith laughed, then put on a quavery voice that made her sound much older than Grandma Bessie. “You kids and your new fangled contraptions.”
Laura rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Seriously, though, Faith,” Laura said. “We need to create a brand on Instagram. You know, we should do some pictures like… cups of tea next to delicious pastries, with, I don’t know, like books that match the pastel color scheme, or bunting across the table, or pearls, or floral fabric. I think we should just create some really beautiful images. It will really help the brand.”
Faith headed over to where her teal shoulder bag hung off a peg in the entrance to the kitchen area. That’s where she kept the paper she used for the column – just in case an idea struck when she was out and about. “It all sounds very good,” Faith said. “I just don’t get how that’s going to drive more customers through the doors. I mean, aren’t some of these people liking our stuff in like, California? Anyways, business is so good I doubt we’d even want more customers. Aren’t things going great as they are?”
“Ah!” Laura said in mock frustration. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
Faith giggled, picking out her fountain pen and heading back to the table.
“This isn’t about one café or tea room. It’s about the whole brand.” Laura was striding around, passionate about what she was saying. “In this day and age you can leverage your success in one place and use it to go global. We could have a blog, we could have online baking video tutorials… We could publish recipe books, or even get a TV show! Seriously, Faith, there’s so much more we could do. And not only would it be fun, but…” Laura rubbed her fingers together and raised her eyebrows. “You know?”
Faith shook her head with a smile. “Maybe,” she said. “I’m not sure Grandma Bessie would approve. I know she doesn’t run it here anymore but she’s still the boss as far as I’m concerned. I felt bad enough changing the name, let alone making the tearoom into some kind of online empire.” She pressed the thick, good quality paper down flat on the table and poised her fountain pen. There was nothing she loved more than looping her elaborate cursive on a fresh, plain paper, and there were so few opportunities to do it that she savored each moment. She loved to see the shine of the black ink
when it first stroked against the page, and then how it flattened and dried and melded with the texture of the paper. Laura always said Faith was old fashioned, but she didn’t mind that. If anything, she’d taken it as a compliment. Her mother had always called her an old soul.
“So,” Faith said. “Tell me the recipe. We might as well take this down to Krystle tonight, if you want. I feel like a nice walk.”
“Yep,” Laura said cheerfully, then nodded to the paper teasingly. “You see, that’s branding already. I mean, who else has a handwritten newspaper column?”
Faith shrugged. “I don’t know anything about branding. I just thought it would make a really nice touch. My mom had this handwritten cookbook once, it just felt so… personal. Like you were reading your great grandma’s book, or something. Like it was just for you.”
“Branding,” Laura said with a decisive nod, then giggled at herself. “I really sound like a stuck record, don’t I?”
Faith grinned. “Yep. Now we’ve done the picture. That same one you took for Instagram, we’ll give that to Krystle. Now, tell me the darn recipe, woman!”
*****
“Faith! Laura!” Krystle Hatton clapped her manicured hands as soon as they walked into the offices of the Paradise Gazette. She always looked genuinely pleased to see them, and Faith couldn’t help but break into a smile.
Krystle was always striding around the newspaper offices in her pink high heels and floaty skirts and tops, looking like a fairy on a serious mission. Her blonde hair would have been wispy like Laura’s, but she’d had it cut flat to her scalp in a gorgeous super short style. She wore huge dangly chandelier earrings in antique gold, and Faith just loved her whole look.
Faith liked her own floral summer dresses and sandals style, and with her sandy coloring, freckles and green dancing eyes always looked pleasant. But she kind of wished she could have that super-pretty-but-super-powerful look Krystle exuded. She felt a bit short and small and flat standing next to her, but she couldn’t manage to muster any jealousy toward someone as kind as Krystle.
“Beautiful ladies!” Krystle said with a huge smile.
Laura smiled. “Hey, Krystle.”
“Hi,” Faith said. “We’ve come to deliver our column for this week. Next week.” She laughed. “Whatever week.”
Krystle laughed along. “The lifelong question, huh? Is Sunday the start of the week, or Monday?” She was already walking toward her own office at the end. Paradise Gazette was a very small paper, with just three or four full time staff. But that didn’t stop Krystle from looking like she ran the New York Times. Faith was sure she’d be capable. “Now,” Krystle continued, “I have a request for you.”
“Sure thing,” Faith said as they stepped into Krystle’s office.
“Whoa, your office is amazing!” Laura said. It was her first time being in there, whereas Faith had already gasped in admiration a couple of visits ago.
One wall of Krystle’s office was painted shocking pink, while the others were a cool light gray. Everything was hyper-organized into light gray files the exact color of the walls, while the glass-topped desk had framing in exactly the same shade of bright magenta the accent wall was drenched in. A white vase stuffed with bright yellow flowers gave the room a whole new dimension. Krystle sat in her light gray ergonomic chair and placed her immaculately manicured hands on the glass desk top. “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I have to have everything just-so. And with two teen boys, I certainly don’t get to at home. This is my little sanctuary.”
“It’s awesome,” Laura said, taking a seat next to Faith on one of the silver-gray chairs across from Krystle.
Faith pulled the handwritten recipe out of her shoulder bag and placed it on the table. “So what’s your request, Krystle?”
“Oh, thank you,” Krystle said, picking up the recipe. “Beautiful penmanship as always, Faith. Or penwomanship, should I say.”
Faith smiled, reminding herself to write handwritten letters more often.
“Well, basically, we’ve had a bit of an issue,” Krystle explained. “I’m not sure if you guys know since it’s your first few months with us, but every year we have a contributor party. Obviously we can’t pay you guys for your columns but we value the work you do so much to make the Paradise Gazette what it is, so we put on a little celebration. Nothing too lavish, but it’s still fun. Now, we did arrange, months and months ago, that we’d go to the Indian restaurant in town, you know, The Mango Tree?”
Faith and Laura nodded. They’d gone there for Laura’s birthday a few months ago, and the food had been to die for. Faith made a mental note to go back there and resample the chicken korma and garlic naan.
“That’s next weekend. Sunday night. But unfortunately Tara’s gone and had a big argument with them about mango mint chutney or something like that, I don’t know,” Krystle said, then pressed her lips together. “Tara Johnson, that is, the lady who writes our restaurant reviews.” From the way she spoke, Faith could tell Krystle certainly wasn’t Tara’s biggest fan. “So we were stumped, right? But then my husband’s friend from work offered us his boat. So it’s a boat party!” Her eyes were vibrant and bright. “The only issue is that we have nothing to eat. So I was wondering…”
“Cater? We’d love to!” Faith said immediately. Catering a boat party – how exiting!
Krystle laughed. “You guys are superstars. Now, we don’t want anything fancy or a big meal. Just a whole bunch of finger foods, really. I’ll bring the alcohol. We’ll crank some music up, cruise along the water, have a good night of it. Sounds all right?”
Laura and Faith looked at each other, grinning.
“Sounds like fun,” Laura said.
Faith was already thinking how exciting it would be to invent all kinds of finger foods and canapés – both sweet and savory. There was nothing she loved more than a chance to innovate and create.
But what she could never have anticipated was the boat party would end in tragedy.
*****
Chapter 2
“Okay, everyone, listen up!” Krystle clapped her purple-nailed hands above her head and everyone looked in her direction, holding their champagne flutes.
Faith and Laura stood by the kitchen, each weighed down by a platter of canapés, looking around at all the newspaper’s contributors in their party clothes. All eyes were on them and it made Faith feel a little nervous. She knew she’d be fine once she was mingling and passing out food. She could imagine the delight in people’s eyes as they picked out their favorites to sample, and that helped her smile as she swallowed her nervousness.
“So, everybody, this is Faith Franklin and Laura Edwards. In case you weren’t aware, they run the Slice of Paradise tearoom up at Paradise Point.” Then Krystle gestured to each of the guests in turn.
“This is Becky Harrison, our fashion columnist.”
Becky, a very short, slender woman with dark hair in a chin-length bob, gave them a waggle of her fingers in greeting. She had scarily perfect arched eyebrows that gave her a sarcastic look, and the sharp flash in her dark eyes did nothing to soften her image. She wore a velvet ribbon tied around her neck and a deep purple dress that clung to every curve. Her lips were a matching dark purple. “Hi,” she said, her voice dragging in a couldn’t-care-less sort of way. “What have you got there? I’m starved.” She wiggled her way over to them and peered at the canapé platters, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t tell what anything is.”
Krystle gave her a not-so-gentle slap on the back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll work it out. Becky came here recently from Ohio. She’s even a bit of a celebrity there, actually, so I hear. A star swimmer when she was younger.”
“Oh!” Faith said. “That’s such a coincidence. My mom is about to buy a cabin in Ohio. In fact, I think she’s house-hunting, well, cabin-hunting, right now!” Her mom had always wanted a writing and editing cabin out by a lake, and now that Faith had moved out her dream was finally coming true.
But Becky didn’t
seem the least bit interested. “What’s that one?” she said to Laura, pointing out one of the canapés.
Laura started pointing out the goat’s cheese pizza rolls, the Caprese salad skewers with tomato, mozzarella and basil, and the tiny artichoke turnovers in puff pastry, while Krystle and Faith both half-managed to suppress their sighs. Krystle continued introductions.
“This is—” she began, gesturing to a tall, rotund man in his 50s.
“I’m Graeme Trigg,” he boomed, stepping forward and offering his hand for Faith to shake, despite the fact she was carrying an enormous tray that needed both hands. She nodded, a bit embarrassed, and he said, “Oops! Of course. Well, hello, Miss Franklin. My wife Danica is always saying we need to take all our grandchildren to come and visit your tearoom. We take them up to the Paradise Point beach, but they’re crazy about the smoothie bar. One day I’ll persuade them to come up your way.”
“That would be nice,” Faith said.
“Graeme has more grandkids than anyone could count,” Krystle said with a laugh. “And you’d think he and Danica would have their hands full with their ever-growing brood. But somehow he manages to review movie and stage productions. And put on their very own production once a year. And he’s running for mayor this year. Oh, and he’s an elder at the church. I’d say he’s one of the most respected men in our community.”
“Oh, come, now,” Graeme said modestly.
“Goodness, you sound busy,” Faith said. She watched Graeme as he eyed the canapés greedily. “Why don’t you try one of those? They’re mini apple caramel cheesecakes. Laura’s new specialty.”
He gave her a big smile, his ruddy grandfather-like face opening into delight. “Cheesecake, my favorite. No one tell Danica, though, all right? I’m meant to be on a diet. She’ll have my head!”
“I don’t give a damn about party manners,” a slim redheaded woman barked at the man next to her. They had been talking in lowered voices but she sounded like she was losing her temper. “If their food is bad, I’m going to say so. That’s my job. I won’t be intimidated.”
The Cheesecake Fake: A Culinary Cozy Mystery Set In Sunny Florida (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Page 1
