by M K Scott
“Will do,” her mother promised, exited the car with a smile and a wave, and then got into her own car.
Della shouldered her bag and extracted herself from her vehicle while musing over the possibility of the police help. Even when the topic came up, she assumed both Helen and her mother had watched way too many television shows where the police called on the amateur sleuth to assist on a case. They weren’t being called in. That much she knew. Maybe Barney’s purpose included discouraging any would-be citizen crime solvers.
ONCE INSIDE THE warm, sweet air of the bakery, her suspicions melted away. Who could be angry in a bakery, especially hers? After stowing her tote and donning an apron and a hat, she peeked into the front to see how Stephanie fared. A young couple, holding hands and whispering, lingered over coffee. Stephanie stood near the iPad that functioned as their cash register, staring at a piece of paper in her hands.
Rather than shout her return, Della slipped up beside her employee and glanced at the paper that had her so enthralled. Earlier, her mother hinted that Stephanie may have a man problem, which might manifest in threatening notes—the kind that started with I love you so much I can’t live without you, which means you have to do all this nonsensical stuff for me. A simple glance wouldn’t be the same as snooping. Well, not too much. After all, she cared about her employees, which she could say in the plural if she counted Elise and her mother.
Instead of a letter written in chunky printing, a happy kitten along with a cupcake graced the page, with a caption that read, What’s better than a kitten? A visit to Sweet Treasures Bakery. Underneath, in smaller letters it said, Opening Soon.
“No location. No phone number. No website,” Della observed. “Not sure how it could be opening soon without those vital items.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Stephanie practically growled the words. “Not sure when it happened, but this ad went up on our community bulletin board that you put up for people to announce school plays, yard sales, and upcoming community events.”
“Pretty bold.” Normally, she’d be just as annoyed as her employee, but no time for it today. “I guess I have to make the best truffle to give everyone something else to talk about. I’ve got a phone call to make, but if you can start closing up and send the lovebirds on their way, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure thing.” Stephanie wadded the ad and threw it in the trash. Della gave her a thumbs up and headed to the kitchen for privacy. Instead of using the wall phone, she chose her cell, knowing Kyle would answer if he saw her name.
Della didn’t fool herself into thinking she was the love of his life, but they were friends, and they did solve a crime together. That had to count for something. He answered on the first ring, giving Della a quiet sense of satisfaction.
“Hi, Kyle. Can you talk? I have a couple of questions for you.”
“Sure. Shoot. As the Security Head of Lawson Industries, I can always talk, except when I can’t.”
He sounded relaxed, which meant he could have his feet on his desk and the chair rocked back, earning an envious look from any of the security guards who saw him.
“My mother’s neighbor’s home was broken into the other night. She wants to outfit her home with security lights and doorbell cameras. My father always told us many of the people he busted for home invasion were working for home security firms. They’d conveniently forget to turn on the system or leave a window unalarmed for their second visit. I think she needs help installing these devices, but she doesn’t trust anyone.”
“I’d be glad to help. Just give me her address.”
“That’s sweet. I didn’t expect you to do it. I thought there might be someone you know, maybe an employee?”
“Nah. It’s no trouble. It will probably take me thirty minutes at the tops.”
His generous offer surprised her, but that was Kyle. He sounded happy, which Della hoped might be in part due to his upcoming nuptials. She gave him the address quickly before changing the subject. “Ah, I have another question of a wedding-related nature.”
“Oh?” His voice swung up on the word. “Are you going to ask me to walk you down the aisle in lieu of your father? It would be my honor.”
Della blinked and shook her head hard to dislodge the offer. “Thanks, but no. I think that might involve having an actual fiancé. No, it’s you who is having a wedding on December 24th at the stroke of midnight.”
Laughter carried over the phone. “That Todd is a jokester. How did he get you to agree to do this?”
Ah, Kyle thought she figured into a practical joke somehow. It would be best to treat it like a dirty bandage that needed to be ripped off. “Tifiani has been in to see me to get the wedding reception going. You only have a few weeks left.”
Choking sounded at the other end, and then swearing, and finally silence, which made her wonder if they’d been disconnected.
“Della,” a raspy voice said, which sounded a little like Kyle if he had just run a race with a bear chasing him. “I am not getting married on Christmas Eve. If I ever choose to get married, it will never be on Christmas Eve. That just messes up everyone’s holiday plans.”
“I thought as much.”
“Well…” Kyle lengthened the word. “Talk to you later. I appreciate the heads up.”
The phone went dead, leaving Della to wonder if Tifiani had been in a wedding planning frenzy without actually receiving a proposal or if she was spying for Lacey. Either way, she was just about one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t be hearing from Tifiani again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE RICH SMELLS of caramel and dark chocolate danced around the kitchen along with the bite of cayenne pepper. Della sang along with a catchy song on the radio about soaking up the sun, which sounded wonderful at the beginning of winter. If she couldn’t have sunshine, then chocolate would do. A tap-tap at the glass front door of her bakery stopped her in mid stir of the truffle mixture. Della bit her lip. Her experience with people who came calling before and after hours usually resulted in demanding bridezillas.
Still, with Tifiani with three I’s gone, she should be good. Kyle even dropped off the food photo album. The action brought comfort, considering Tifiani was neither a spy nor a bride in the immediate future. Della put down her mixing bowl, wiped her hands on her apron, and pushed the swing door to see who might be calling. The outside lights spotlighted her catering sign, along with two women standing at the door. She recognized them from the Truffle Contest crew. She unlocked the door and swung it open. “Hello! What’s up?”
Mary gave a significant look at the interior and said, “Invite us in, please. You don’t want to be seen talking to us.”
Goodness! She made it sound like they were part of a crime family. All the same, Della took two steps back, allowing the women to enter. The outside lights illuminated the interior enough that she could make out the faces of her visitors, but if she turned on the overhead lights to see better, others might assume the bakery was open for business. The three of them stood in the half-dark.
Della spoke first. “What brings you here?”
“Details about the contest we thought you’d need to know.” Kathleen spoke, and then glanced at Mary, who picked up the conversational thread.
“We snagged eight sponsors.” Mary held up eight fingers on two hands and wiggled them. “All of them want to be judges.”
“Sounds fair.” It made sense to her. It did make her wonder why they were playing cloak and dagger. “What’s the problem?”
“We’ve had a surprising number of entries.” Mary confided. She gave a little sniff before continuing. “We did get the word out on radio and television, besides hitting every community board we knew. We also went by the cooking academy and made an announcement.”
They had been busy. “Radio? Television?”
“My cousin’s son works for one of those easy listening stations. They do community announcements once a day, free of charge. As for television, I submitted the information
to the Rise and Shine Show. They tell everyone what’s happening around town, unfortunately, before most people wake up. Apparently, it’s enough to have garnered thirty-one entries.”
Thirty-one. More than she expected. She expected Lacey’s baker, maybe three or four other bakeries, and Kirin’s Kandy Kitchen. “There aren’t more than three bakeries in town and only one candy maker.”
Della assumed the candy maker would be the most formidable opponent, although the shop didn’t usually produce truffles. They excelled in solid chocolates, caramels, and fruit-flavored gummies—items that could be made in large quantities quickly. Truffles took time. Plain truffles took at least two hours, while the filled ones took even longer. It could be Kandy Kitchen wanted to enlarge their offerings and a win would provide great publicity.
“You came to warn me Kandy Kitchen entered?” she asked.
“Oh, no,” Mary shook her head. “This is their busy time. Lots of Christmas treats to make, and I heard they’re even working on Valentine’s Day. That’s their biggest season. No entry from Kandy Kitchen but we have a lot of local grandmothers who have baked all their lives and are willing to put their skills up against the other amateur truffle makers.”
“Grandmothers,” Della growled the word with a sinking sensation. She knew her truffles melted on the tongue, leaving a sense of happiness with the consumption, but grandmothers packed their truffles with love and decades of experience. She’d rather go up against restaurant chefs.
“That’s why you dropped in—to warn me about the grandmothers?”
“Good heavens, no.” Mary chuckled. “We’re here to cheer you on. Give it your best shot. I remember those truffles you made for your mother’s Christmas party. They really packed a kick. Gave me a bit of heartburn.”
If it gave Mary heartburn, it might be the same for the other judges. It killed her dark chocolate cayenne pepper truffle idea. Her mother had hinted the more traditional the better when choosing her perfect truffle. “Sorry that happened to you.”
“No biggie. Usually get a little indigestion from eating chili, but I’m not going to stop eating chili. Sometimes coconut is an issue for me. Not allergic to it, just gets stuck in my throat.”
No cayenne pepper. No coconut. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Kathleen crossed her arms and glanced upward. “Not sure. We didn’t ask anyone about allergies? Didn’t occur to me. It seems like everyone and their brother has a nut allergy. With eleven judges, there would be at least one person with an allergy.”
“Eleven judges? I thought there were eight.” Since nut allergies occurred a great deal, she’d made a practice of not including nuts in anything and keeping her kitchen nut-free.
“Eight sponsorship judges. We included ourselves, of course.” They giggled at the last comment and smirked.
Mary added, “No worries. You should be golden as long as you don’t kill someone off.”
Killing off a judge with a nut-intensive treat wouldn’t win her any awards. Hopefully, they all liked chocolate. “Glad you came by. Do we have different classes of truffles? Or just a general truffle? How many truffles do you need to submit?”
The two women huddled together, murmuring and counting on their fingers. After a few minutes, they stepped back. Mary cleared her throat. “We didn’t specify classes. You should be able to enter as many types as you like, but we need at least twenty-two of each.”
“Twenty-two?”
“Of course,” Mary answered as if the number would be a no-brainer. “In case there’s a tie and we need to retaste.”
An image of the judges standing in a line popping truffles, at least thirty-one, in their mouths formed in Della’s mind. She would say she liked truffles as much as anyone. Still, by the sixth, she’d be on sugar overload. “Do you think the judges should eat entire truffles? They will be feeling pretty sick before it’s over, and the truffles near the end won’t get a fair judging.”
Mary and Kathleen gazed at each other, and then nodded in acknowledgment. “Good point,” Mary volunteered. “We should quarter the truffles.”
Well, that killed any liquid-filled truffles. Mary and Kathleen headed for the doorway but inquired about Della’s plans before leaving.
“I will probably be here all night.”
They chuckled, assuming she was joking. She wasn’t. Della had to come up with a non-spicy, nut and coconut-free truffle with no liquid center. It had to be traditional to appeal to the purists and cutting edge to stand out from the crowd. She might as well turn straw into gold. Where was Rumpelstiltskin when you needed him?
Chapter Twenty-Three
DELLA RETIRED TO the kitchen and worked on creating the most innovative truffle she could. After all, the contest ladies were doing all they could to make Della shine. Her dark chocolate truffle with cayenne could have had some of the judges reaching for antiacids tablets while another could be rushed to the hospital if she used coconut. Personal preferences always entered into judging as well, even though they shouldn’t. Someone who avoided eating fish at every opportunity wouldn’t be the person to rate the local fish fries.
All she could hope was that every judge had a sweet tooth. While she did feature low-calorie and no-sugar items in her bakery, they weren’t big sellers. Della preferred traditional sweeteners such as sugar, brown sugar, and honey. Those tended to behave in a manner she knew.
Back to finding the perfect truffle. All the almost-runs could be featured in tomorrow’s display case.
Time crept as she waited for the chocolate to melt. She scrutinized decorative toppings to make sure she didn’t use something that could cause an allergic reaction. People could be allergic to anything from shellfish to pineapple. Fortunately, she didn’t plan on using either. Finally, the spheres and globes she double-dipped sat waiting on parchment paper-lined pans as she pushed the fondant flowers out of their mold. A purist would have made flowers by carefully stacking individual icing petals, but she had neither the time nor the patience. Della cut out tiny leaves with an Exacto knife and was in the process of arranging them on a truffle when her phone chimed.
Should she answer it? Her eyes drifted to the clock. It was not quite ten—still late for business calls—and the general ring tone meant it was no one she knew well enough to assign a ringtone. Still, something made her stand up to answer her phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Della. It’s Guy. Sorry about calling so late.”
It was a good thing she decided to answer. “No, it’s okay. I’m still at the bakery.”
“I know how that is. I’m still at the restaurant. Technically, we’re closed for take-out, and there’s still so much to get done before we have our actual opening with actual tables. Anyhow, I went out to my car to grab my glasses to go over invoices when I noticed some activity at the end of the strip mall.”
Even though she’d driven by the mall on numerous occasions, she’d hadn’t paid much attention. Nothing appealed to her. By this time of night, the sewing shop and the auto parts store should be closed. There was Guy’s restaurant and an ammo place with a quirky name like Bear Arms, and possibly a tanning salon. None of them would be open this late or so she thought.
“A robbery?”
“No, nothing that dramatic. There’re four empty storefronts for rent, and I pretty much scrutinized every one of them. Technically, Burgers, Brews, and Books is two combined units, but that happened before I chose to lease it. Anyhow, on the end is a tiny shop that has a tiny kitchen. I heard it used to be taco takeout place.”
He paused, making Della wonder about how she might be interested in the place. Her current location had to be bigger and received more foot traffic. Guy’s restaurant was strictly a drive to venture unless a person ordered delivery. She felt she should say something to prove she heard. “Okay.”
“Yeah, you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. Anyhow, there’s this chick in a full-length fur coat like someone you’d see at those movie premieres or
at least the old-time ones. She’s barking orders at these two men who don’t appear to be the sharpest knives in the drawer. They’re putting up signs on the empty shop. I waited until they left to check it out. This is the part you’d be interested in. The sign read Sweet Treasures Bakery, Coming Soon.”
“You’re right,” Della agreed. “That is interesting to me. I’m glad you told me. Always good to know the competition.”
It intrigued her on multiple levels. Lacey hadn’t lost interest in her bakery plans. Surprisingly, Della expected Sweet Treasures to be in a much higher rent district. It could be Daddy Dankworth was unwilling to fork over much money since Lacey’s dance and cheer studio fizzled out quickly. Besides, a bakery required more equipment than tumbling mats and a display shelf for trophies. The money would probably go into new equipment. The Dankworths would have no clue about buying items secondhand to save money.
“Glad to help. I wouldn’t worry too much as far as competition. They put the sign on the outside of the windows. Winter weather or a careless hand could destroy them. Everybody knows you put the sign inside.”
“You’d think that, but you came across three people who obviously didn’t.”
Their ineptitude puzzled her. Her lips pressed together as she pondered the action. While she’d never been a fan of Lacey’s, she never considered her stupid. They were never in the same classes, making it hard to judge her academic performance. Even so, plenty of nerdy kids desperate for a word from the reigning social queen would gladly have done her homework. If nothing else, Lacey scored high marks in slyness and manipulating people, neither a skill that leant itself to installing signs. No matter how much the woman annoyed her, Della couldn’t believe she didn’t have the sense to put the sign inside. One reason she didn’t could be that she didn’t have the keys.
“Well, ah, that’s the reason I called. I know you need to get back to whatever you’re doing.”