Tea’d Off
Lorraine Bartlett
Contents
Description
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Katie’s Recipes
About the Author
Also by Lorraine Bartlett
Description
With the grand relaunch of Victoria Square’s tea shop, Tealicious, just days away, Nona Fiske decides it’s time to sabotage it and its owner, Katie Bonner. With gossip, innuendo, and outright lies, Nona tries to turn the other merchants on the Square against Katie. But Katie has learned how to deal with people like Nona. Can she kill with kindness?
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This story takes place between the Victoria Square mystery novels Yule Be Dead and Murder Ink.
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Check out the book trailer on YouTube!
Copyright @ 2019 by Lorraine Bartlett. All rights reserved.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously--and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Publisher's Note: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
The recipe oven temperatures have been converted to Celsius and Gas Mark to make things a bit easier for non-US readers. However, please note all recipes were tested in Fahrenheit.
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
My thanks go to my Victoria Square Mysteries co-author, Gayle Leeson, who brainstormed with me to come up with the plot for this story. Thanks, Gayle. You rock!
Thanks also go to members of The Lorraine Train review group and my proofreaders, Mary Ann Borer, Amy Connolley, Jens Klein, Linda Kuzminczuk, Debbie Lyon, and Pam Priest.
Thanks also go to reader Hope Fyrciak for suggesting the title.
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Chapter 1
A brisk wind off Lake Ontario blew through the village of McKinlay Mill and its quaint business district called Victoria Square on that sunny morning in April. Nona Fiske closed and locked the door of her business before she made her way across the short expanse of tarmac that lay between her shop, The Quiet Quilter, and Tanner’s Bakery and Café. Once inside, Nona inhaled the intoxicating aromas of fresh-baked bread, cookies, cakes, and other delectable pastries, all beautifully displayed in a big glass case.
She waited patiently until the two people in front of her finished their transactions, eyeing the decorations and soaking in the ambiance of the establishment. As one of the two lunch choices on Victoria Square, Tanner’s was the cheaper option. Most of its trade was take-out, although it did boast three tables that faced the wall of glass that overlooked the Square.
When it was her turn to be served by Jordan Tanner, the proprietor and fellow member of the Victoria Square Merchants Association, Nona glanced down into the display case and asked, “Are these croissants fresh?”
“What do you mean?” asked Jordan.
“Because Katie Bonner gave me the impression that they weren’t.”
Katie Bonner was not only the owner and manager of Victoria Square’s anchor, an arts and crafts arcade known as Artisans Alley, but she’d recently bought the Square’s often-failing tea shop, which she was about to relaunch as Tealicious.
Nona leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I mean, being frozen and then microwaved doesn’t make them fresh-baked.”
Jordan’s face collapsed into a scowl. “Everything I sell is freshly baked,” he protested.
“Even the cookies? Because as I understand it, you use commercially made cookie dough. You know, the kind from the little doughboy.”
Jordan almost seemed to double in size at the insult. “Everything we make is from scratch,” he asserted, his cheeks tinged pink with indignation.
“So you say,” Nona said blithely.
“Katie has plans for the tea shop that’s reopening on the Square,” Nona went on. “Big plans. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to put you out of business—or at least put a big dent in your lunchtime trade.”
“I’m not worried. I’ve had competition from the teashop for years,” Jordan asserted.
“Yes, but none of the owners has been able to really make it pay. I’m betting Katie can.”
Jordan frowned. “I thought you didn’t like her?”
Nona drew back as though offended. “I don’t dislike anyone.” Her tone said otherwise.
“I don’t see a problem,” Jordan said, defiantly crossing his arms over his chest.
Nona offered a sly smile. “You will, dearie, you will.”
When he spoke again, Jordan’s voice appeared to be tightly under control. “What can I get you, Nona?”
Nona’s gaze traveled around the big glass display case filled with cookies, pies, cakes, doughnuts, cream horns, and cannolis. “Nothing today, thank you. I have to watch my calories,” she said sweetly. And with that, Nona turned on her heel and left the café, letting a cold blast of air into the bakery.
But instead of returning to her shop, Nona walked past the big Victorian home that had recently undergone a total renovation and had opened as Sassy Sally’s Bed and Breakfast. Nona had no intention of stopping there. The couple who ran it—two married men—were known to be Katie Bonner’s sycophants. Instead, Nona continued to Sweet Sue’s Confectionery, taking in the scent of chocolate that seemed to hover over the building. As it was early, the Square’s candy shop wasn’t officially open, but Nona knocked on the door until its owner, Sue Sweeney, popped her head out from the drape that blocked the retail portion from the commercial kitchen where she made the wonderful treats that she sold to the general public.
“We open at ten,” Sue shouted.
“Sue, it’s Nona Fiske. Do you have a minute to talk?”
Sue scowled, tossed the dish towel she had in her hand over her left shoulder and marched toward the door. She unlocked it, and Nona barreled right in.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Sue said rather testily, which Nona found not only annoying but downright unfriendly.
“I know you won’t have any customers for at least twenty minutes.”
“How do you know that?” Sue asked.
“Because I never have customers for at least twenty minutes after opening—except on Saturdays, of course. That gives me plenty of time to observe what happens on the Square.”
“So, you spy on your neighbors?” Sue asked aghast.
Nona straightened with indignation. “I do no such thing! I look out for my neighbors.”
“How?” Sue asked, her gaze steely.
Nona had never particularly liked Sue, and her opinion wasn’t rising thanks to this conversation. She decided to get to the point. “Take you, for instance. I’m sure Katie Bonner has made all kinds of promises to you—promises she has no intention of keeping.”
“Such as?” Sue asked warily.
“Featuring your products in her teashop.”
“As a matter of fact, we’ve spoken about it in quite some detail and we struck a deal. I’ll be supplying my hand-dipped truffles for the top tiers of her tea cake plates for those who go for the full-priced afternoon tea—not just the a la carte lunch. Plus, she’ll offer them from her dessert case.”
“And how long do you think that’ll last before she finds another cheaper vendor?”
“As long as she continues to like my product. Not onl
y do I have faith in my chocolates, but I have faith in Katie, as well.”
“Misplaced faith,” Nona noted.
Sue’s eyes narrowed. “Can you give me an example of a time when Katie has reneged on a promise?”
“Many,” Nona said without hesitation.
Sue began to tap her left foot, waiting. After a long moment, she demanded, “Well?”
Nona glanced at the watch on her left wrist. “I’d best be going.”
“Yes,” Sue agreed, “perhaps you should.”
Nona frowned, more than a little irritated at Sue’s tone. Here she was trying to help the woman, and what thanks did she get?
“I’ll see you at the next Merchants Association meeting,” Nona said.
“I haven’t missed one yet,” Sue muttered.
Nona turned for the door, closing it behind her, and headed to her next stop, Booths Jams and Jellies. By then it was ten o’clock, and the store had already opened for the day. Nona entered, taking in the hundreds of shining jars lined on shelves throughout the shop, which smelled like citrus—perhaps from a fresh-made batch of marmalade. She admired the charming labels and noticed how its owner, Charlotte Booth, had decorated the shop with a country theme. A pretty quilted wall-hanging in the log-cabin pattern brightened the area behind the register. It had not come from Nona’s store, which burned just a little, causing Nona’s lips to purse.
Charlotte wore a hunter-green apron with the name of the shop embroidered on the front, which contributed to the homey ambiance. She stood behind the counter, busy opening jars and setting out samples of several of her jams and jellies for customers to taste-test. She sold her wares in several sizes from a half-pint to a pint, and in small sampler jars, too. Each glass bowl had a little silver spoon for patrons to smear jam on oyster crackers.
“Nona, what brings you out on this fine day? Shouldn’t you be opening your store?” Charlotte asked cheerfully.
“I should,” Nona admitted, “but I was heartsick to think that you’ve probably been duped.”
Charlotte looked up from the jar of peach preserves she was about to empty into a bowl. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…have you received a written contract from Katie Bonner to supply her new teashop with jam?”
“No. I mean, she promised she’d buy jam from me, but we don’t have a contract. I didn’t expect we would. Her word is good enough for me.”
“Which is not at all binding.” Nona shook her head and tsked, then nodded toward a shelf on the side, which was filled with hundreds of the sampler jars of jams and jellies. “I suppose those are the jams you made for Tealicious.”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder before turning her gaze back to Nona. “Yes,” she said, sounding just a little defensive.
Again, Nona shook her head. “Well, I suppose you might be able to dump them during the summer when the tourists come through. They won’t go bad any time soon, will they?”
“Of course not,” Charlotte said, her cheeks flushing. “What makes you think Katie would go back on our agreement?”
“She’s done it to others; why not you, too?”
“What others?” Charlotte pressed.
“Your neighbor, Sue. Katie said she’d order chocolate truffles, but now she’s going back on her word to do business with a cheaper vendor. You know, like those boxes of commercially made cream chocolates you get at the supermarket.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I know so,” Nona said emphatically.
“How?”
Nona looked at her watch. “Look at the time. I’d best be getting along.”
“Would you like to buy one of the samplers?” Charlotte asked, annoyance tinging her tone.
“Why would I do that?” Nona asked, sounding truly puzzled.
“I don’t know; maybe as a gesture of goodwill. Maybe to help a fellow Victoria Square Merchant out—especially if you believe I’m going to be stuck with them.”
Nona shook her head. “I’m watching my caloric intake. Besides, I need to get going. I’ll see you at the next Merchants Association meeting.”
“Yes, you will,” Charlotte said, sounding quite displeased.
Nona left the shop and turned left, passing Wood-U, the Square’s gift shop featuring handmade wooden items. Everyone knew its proprietor, Ray Davenport, had a silly boyish crush on Katie Bonner. The man made a fool of himself fawning over her on a regular basis. Nona had once admired the man, a former detective who’d investigated poor Ezra Hilton’s murder.
Life on Victoria Square had been serene back in those days. Before Katie had barged onto the scene, wresting control of Artisans Alley away from Ezra’s nephew—his flesh and blood. Nona never could understand why Gerald Hilton had turned over Ezra’s dream—Artisans Alley—without much of a fight. It was said Katie bought him out, and probably for dirt cheap. The woman drove a hard bargain. Or had she blackmailed Gerald out of the place? Nona would probably never know…but she had her suspicions.
Nona ascended the steps leading into the dual shop known on the eastern side as Gilda’s Gourmet Gift Baskets, and to the west, her husband’s wine shop, The Perfect Grape. Nona didn’t approve of wine or spirits. Liquor loosens the tongue. It had nearly broken her heart when her nephew, Carl, had gone to work as a bartender at the Pelican’s Nest down by the lake. Surely it was there that he’d been influenced by a bad crowd. Not that she blamed Carl, but it seemed he may have been led astray because of the bad element that congregated at such places. With his talent, Carl should have been able to find a well-paying job with Rochester’s Memorial Art Gallery, or perhaps one of the area’s universities, but he’d been blackballed, although Nona couldn’t think why someone with his talent at repairing delicate porcelain shouldn’t have been hired immediately.
Nona entered the basket shop and looked around, but Gilda Ringwald-Stratton was nowhere to be found. An older woman dressed in slacks, a white sweater, penny loafers, and a peach-colored apron greeted her.
“Welcome to Gilda’s Gourmet Gift Baskets. I’m Iris. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’d like to speak with Gilda. We’re acquaintances.”
“I’m sorry, but she’s running errands this morning. She should be returning before noon if you’d like to come back.”
“Perhaps,” Nona said, scowling.
“Mr. Stratton is in his shop,” Iris offered.
Nona considered her options. “I suppose I could speak to him.”
Iris gestured to the side of the shop and the open door that led to The Perfect Grape.
Nona angled her head so that her nose pointed up and forged ahead. Unfortunately, with her vision curtailed, she ran straight into one of the tables that held a variety of cellophane-wrapped gift baskets, sending one of them flying. Iris made a tremendous dive and managed to save the basket before the glasses and bottle of Chardonnay inside could smash against the hard, wooden floor.
Nona made no comment and continued on and through the doorway and into The Perfect Grape. Conrad Stratton stood behind the long oak bar that acted as a tasting station as well as housing the cash register. “What was all that racket?” he asked.
Nona sniffed. “That incompetent woman Gilda has working for her nearly dropped one of her wine-themed baskets.”
“Iris! Are you okay?” Conrad hollered, sounding concerned.
“Not to worry,” Iris called. “I’ve got everything under control—now.” That last word had a sour edge to it.
Conrad turned to face his guest. “What brings you here, Nona. I don’t think you’ve ever visited my shop before.”
Nona eyed the merchandise on offer, struggling to keep from sneering. Those who succumbed to the evils of drink were weak-willed—not like her. “I had hoped to speak to Gilda about the Square’s new tea shop.”
Conrad smiled broadly. “It’ll be a great addition to Victoria Square.”
“There’s been a tea shop in the Square for several years,”
Nona pointed out.
“Yes, but it wasn’t well managed in its former incarnations. Katie will bring it the stability it’s needed, and if it thrives, it’ll help the rest of us prosper, too.”
“If you think so,” Nona said with a sniff.
“I do, and so does Gilda,” Conrad asserted. Why had his gaze suddenly seemed so penetrating?
Nona straightened. “Has Katie made any deals with you?”
“Deals?”
“Yes, she’s promised to patronize and promote the products of just about everybody on the Square. I’m surprised she hasn’t included you or Gilda in those plans.”
“Perhaps because we’re not a good fit. Let’s face it, a tea shop does not serve wine.”
“Why wouldn’t she serve sherry? I thought it was an accepted beverage at teatime.”
“Is it?” Conrad asked thoughtfully. Then he smiled. “Thank you for the suggestion, Nona. I think I’ll give Katie a call and see what she thinks about the idea.”
A hot flush rose up Nona’s neck, making her cheeks burn, too. She clenched her teeth, wishing she hadn’t spoken to the oaf in front of her.
“I must be going,” she muttered, and made an about-face, heading for the exit.
“Feel free to drop by any time you have great marketing tips for me,” Conrad said and laughed, causing Nona’s ire to blaze.
Without a word, Nona stalked out of the wine shop, slamming the door behind her. She took a few moments to collect her thoughts, her gaze traveling toward the hulking former applesauce warehouse that had been transformed into an arts and crafts arcade. She had once had great affection for that building, as she did for its former owner-manager, Ezra Hilton. He would have reciprocated those feelings if it wasn’t for the harlot who initially owned the Square’s teashop when it was known as Tea and Tasties. Mary Elliott had bewitched Ezra. When he died, something inside Nona had snapped. On that same day, Katie Bonner showed up seemingly from out of nowhere. Life on Victoria Square hadn’t been the same since.
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