Crêpe Expectations

by Sarah Fox

  Silence fell over our small group. Chloe rested her fork on her plate, leaving the rest of her cake uneaten.

  “To think some of us weren’t that far away when it happened,” Hope said quietly. “And none of us had a clue.”

  I took a sip of punch, waiting out the wave of sadness washing over me.

  “But why would Amy want to kill Coach Hannigan?” Chloe asked after a moment. “I still don’t get that part.”

  “She thought he’d sent his cousin—Willard Kerwin—to attack her at her studio,” I said. “Hannigan was worried the murder investigation would prompt Amy to tell someone about the blackmail and the cheating. He’d already warned her that he didn’t want his reputation ruined, and she figured he was trying to silence her for good.”

  “But Amy accused Tyrone of hitting her on the head,” Chloe said.

  “To distract everyone, and to punish Tyrone,” I explained. “According to Tyrone, Amy had confessed her feelings for him later that summer, a couple of weeks after the party. He laughed at her.”

  “Ouch,” Hope said sadly. “Compassion never was his forte.”

  “Apparently she held a grudge all these years,” I said.

  “That’s just…” Chloe trailed off. “I don’t even know what to say.” She poked her cake with her fork. “At least Coach Hannigan survived. I hear he’ll be out of the hospital soon.”

  “That’s one bit of good news,” I said as two women I didn’t recognize approached our group.

  “Hope, everything’s so beautiful!” one of the women said, putting an arm around the party’s hostess and ushering her away.

  “Thanks for filling us in,” Chloe said, giving my arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  I had Fellmen to thank for that. When my car hadn’t turned out of the driveway after his, he’d gone back to see what was keeping me. Amy hadn’t heard him coming when he’d let himself into Coach Hannigan’s house to look for me.

  “I’m going to grab myself some of that punch.” Chloe hurried off toward the refreshments.

  “I’m thinking I need to taste that cake,” Brett said. “Do you want some?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good with my punch for now.”

  As Brett jogged off to catch up with his sister, I noticed Sienna heading my way with Ellie Shaw.

  “Hi, girls,” I said as they reached me.

  “I was just telling Ellie the news,” Sienna said.

  “About Willard Kerwin?” I guessed.

  “I can’t believe it,” Ellie said. “His wife, Dorothy, is so nice. Why did he want to make everyone sick at the competition?”

  I’d told Ray what Amy had said about recognizing the intruder at her studio as Willard Kerwin. As soon as the sheriff confronted him, the man broke down and confessed to the assault and to slipping syrup of ipecac into some of the drinks at the cooking competition. He’d gone to Amy’s studio to find and destroy any potential photographs of him doctoring people’s drinks. He went during business hours because he didn’t have the nerve to actually break in. Instead, he waited until Amy went out into the back alley and then quickly set about searching the studio. He hadn’t had a chance to get past the reception area before Amy returned, interrupting his search. In a panic, he’d struck her with a tripod before escaping.

  “His wife has been through a lot over the past couple of years,” I said in answer to Ellie’s question. “He wanted her to win the competition so she’d have something to be happy about.”

  “But now she has more to be unhappy about,” Sienna said.

  Ellie tucked her hair behind her ear as the breeze tried to lift it in front of her face. “That’s so sad. Will he go to jail?”

  “Hopefully not,” I said. “But I don’t know for sure. He’s never been in any trouble before, so maybe that will weigh in his favor. From what I’ve heard, he feels terrible about everything. So does Dorothy, even though she didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Maybe I should go visit her,” Ellie said. “Or write her a letter. You know, to let her know I’m not mad about getting sick.”

  I was impressed by her compassion. “That would be nice. I bet she’d like that.”

  The afternoon was slipping toward evening by then, and the crowd in the garden was slowly thinning. I found Lisa and Ivan near the small waterfall Brett had recently installed by the house. I spent a few minutes talking with them and then went in search of my boyfriend.

  “Have you seen Brett?” I asked Chloe when I found her at the punch bowl, refilling her glass.

  “Oh,” she said, nearly spilling the punch as she ladled it into her glass. “He’s gone home.”

  “Home?” I echoed, confused. “Without me?” We’d both come to the party in his truck.

  “He asked me to give you a ride.” She grabbed a paper napkin and dabbed at the dribbles of punch running down the outside of her glass.

  “Why did he leave without me?” It wasn’t like him to do that without saying something to me first.

  “You were talking to someone and he didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “But why did he need to take off in such a hurry?” I was still confused.

  Chloe shrugged, her gaze sweeping over the selection of desserts on the table. “I guess he had something he needed to do?”

  I still didn’t understand why he’d done something so out of character, but Chloe didn’t seem to have any real answers for me.

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked her.

  “Oh…maybe soon,” she hedged. “Just let me finish my punch and another piece of cake. Have you had any? It’s delicious.”

  She hurried off down to the end of the table where only a few pieces of cake remained. She seemed flustered, which wasn’t like her. What was wrong with the siblings, I didn’t know, but I decided it wouldn’t hurt to try the cake.

  It really was delicious—light and fluffy and layered with buttercream. Even so, I was glad when Chloe finally declared that she was ready to head home. I wanted to find out what was so important that Brett had hurried away without a word to me.

  By the time Chloe stopped her car in front of my house, it was almost completely dark out. Brett’s truck was parked between my hatchback and his work van, so I knew he’d arrived home.

  After saying goodbye to Chloe, I let myself in the front door. I expected Bentley to race to the foyer to greet me, but the house was still and quiet.

  “Brett?” I called out. “Bentley?”

  Silence was the only response.

  I locked the front door and made my way to the back of the house. Flapjack was snoozing on the couch, but it appeared as though he and I were the only ones home. Maybe Brett had taken Bentley for an evening walk.

  I kicked off my shoes and was about to drop my clutch on the coffee table when I heard my phone chime from inside it. I dug out the device and checked my messages.

  Meet me on the beach? Brett had texted.

  Why? I wrote back. What’s up?

  His response came almost right away.

  I want to show you something.

  That piqued my curiosity. Leaving my purse and phone behind, I slipped my feet into flip-flops and went out through the back door.

  Right away I noticed a flickering glow of light coming from the beach. As I headed down the porch steps, Bentley bounded out of the shadows, his whole body wiggling with excitement.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said with a laugh, pausing to give his fur a good rubdown. “What have you done with Brett?”

  When I took a step toward the beach, Bentley raced off ahead of me. I took another two steps and paused. Two heart-shaped sparklers with long stems were stuck into the sand, shooting glowing sparks into the darkness.

  I took a few more steps until I was standing between the sparklers. Ahead of me
, more pairs of fiery hearts marked a pathway down the beach.

  My own heart upped its tempo, and something fluttered in my stomach. My legs didn’t want to work, but I forced them to. With each step, my feet sank into the soft sand and my heart beat faster. I followed the path of sparklers toward the pulse of the ocean’s breaking waves.

  Near the water’s edge, at the end of the pathway of glowing hearts, Brett stood waiting for me. He still wore his suit and tie from the garden party.

  My heart broke into a full-out gallop at the sight of him.

  His eyes gleamed with the light from the sparklers, and he smiled at me like he couldn’t possibly have been any happier.

  I drew to a stop in front of him, my heart ready to fly right out of my chest.

  “Hi?” I didn’t mean for the word to come out as a question, but my mind had suddenly gone all giddy and off kilter.

  Brett laughed and took my hands in his. “Hi.”

  His eyes burned into mine, his gaze hotter than the sparks lighting up the darkness around us.

  I could hardly breathe, could hardly feel my feet in the sand.

  I gripped his hands tighter. He returned the pressure and cleared his throat.

  “Marley.” He released my hands and reached into his pocket as he went down on one knee.

  I covered my mouth with my hands, certain that my heart was about to fly off into the night.

  “Marley,” he said again, opening a small box to reveal a stunning ring set with diamonds and sapphires. “When I first met you nearly twenty years ago, you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.” His voice shook slightly, and he took a second to steady himself before continuing.

  “I was too shy to tell you that back then, but I’m glad I have the chance to tell you now. I never forgot you over the years, and when you came back into my life, I knew it was meant to be. You’re the light of my life, my perfect match. I hope our love story is just beginning, and I want us to live every chapter of it together.” He took the ring from the satin cushion. “Will you marry me, Marley?”

  I fought to pull air into my lungs as tears welled in my eyes. “Yes,” I said, the word coming out as little more than a gasp. I tried again, my voice stronger this time. “Yes! Of course I will.”

  Relief and happiness lit up his face. He slid the ring onto my finger as my hand trembled.

  “Holey buckets,” I said through tears. “Brett!”

  As soon as he stood up, I threw my arms around him.

  “I love you so much,” I said.

  “I love you too.”

  He lifted me up off the ground and spun me around.

  Bentley barked and rushed over to us, bouncing around as Brett sent me down on my feet, both of us laughing.

  He kissed me, and it didn’t matter that I couldn’t form a coherent thought. I could feel, and that was more than enough.

  Brett put both his hands to my face and rested his forehead against mine.

  “You’re shaking,” he said, grinning.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, unable to keep more tears from spilling onto my cheeks. “Is this really happening?”

  “It’s definitely happening.”

  He kissed me again, and then I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him and resting my cheek against his chest.

  “Together forever?” I whispered.

  “Forever,” he said.

  Recipes

  Marzipan Pancakes

  2 tablespoons butter, melted

  1½ cups (~200 g) marzipan or almond paste, cut in small pieces

  1½ cups all-purpose flour

  1 tablespoon sugar

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon baking soda

  1 large egg

  1¾ cups unsweetened almond milk

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  Melt the butter and set it aside to cool. Cut the marzipan/almond paste into small pieces.

  Mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and baking soda. In a separate bowl, beat together the egg, almond milk, melted butter, and vanilla. Make a well in the dry ingredients. Add the liquid ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix together. Stir in the marzipan/almond paste.

  Ladle the batter into a greased skillet and cook on medium heat until bubbles form on the top and don’t disappear. Flip and cook second side until golden brown.

  Serve with butter and maple syrup. Serves 4.

  Banoffee Crêpes

  Crêpes:

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  1 tablespoon sugar

  2 eggs

  1½ cups milk

  ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

  Butter or oil for greasing pan

  Sift flour and sugar into mixing bowl. In separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, and vanilla. Make a well in the dry ingredients. Pour in half the liquid ingredients. Whisk until smooth. Add the remaining liquid ingredients. Whisk until smooth again.

  Optional: Refrigerate batter for up to 6 hours.

  Heat crêpe pan or small skillet over low heat for several minutes. Grease lightly. Increase to medium heat and leave for 1 to 2 minutes. Pour ¼ cup batter into the pan. Tilt and swirl to coat the pan. Cook until lightly browned. Remove from pan; repeat process. Makes 12 to 16 crêpes.

  Filling:

  2 tins dulce de leche

  4 large bananas, sliced

  Whipping cream

  Chocolate shavings

  Spread some dulce de leche on each crêpe and add several banana slices. Fold the crêpe and top with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

  Boston Cream Crêpes

  Crêpes:

  Use the same crêpe recipe as for the Banoffee Crêpes.

  Custard Filling:

  1½ cups milk

  ¼ cup sugar

  2 eggs, slightly beaten

  ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

  Scald the milk in the top of a double boiler. Stir in the sugar. Add a small quantity of the hot liquid to the slightly beaten eggs. Repeat 2 or 3 more times. Then gradually add the eggs to the hot liquid in the double boiler.

  Cook, stirring constantly, until the custard is thick enough to coat a metal spoon.

  Remove from heat and immediately place the pan in cold water. Continue to stir for 2 minutes to release the steam. Stir in the vanilla. Chill.

  Chocolate Sauce:

  ½ cup milk

  1 cup chocolate chips

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  Heat the milk in the top of a double boiler. Add the chocolate chips and stir until smooth. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla.

  Place a couple of spoonfuls of custard filling on each crêpe. Fold or roll the crêpe and drizzle with chocolate sauce.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to extend my sincere thanks to several people whose hard work and input made this book what it is today. I’m forever grateful to my agent, Jessica Faust, for helping me bring this series to life and to my editor at Kensington Books, Martin Biro, for helping me shape this manuscript into a better book. Thank you to Sarah Blair for always reading my early drafts and cheering me on, and to Jody Holford for providing feedback and being such an enthusiastic Marley and Brett fan. Thanks also to my wonderful friends in the writing community, the Cozy Mystery Crew, and all the readers who have returned for another of Marley’s adventures in Wildwood Cove.

  If you enjoyed Crêpe Expectations, be sure not to miss the previous books in Sarah Fox’s Pancake House mystery series, including

  Winter has come to Wildwood Cove, and riding in on the chill is Wally Fowler. Although he’s been away for years, establishing his reputation as the self-proclaimed Waffle King, the wealthy blowhard has returned to the coastal community to make money, not friends—by pitting his hot and trendy W
affle Kingdom against Marley McKinney’s cozy pancake house, The Flip Side. Wally doesn’t see anything wrong in a little healthy competition, until he’s murdered in his own state-of-the art kitchen.

  Marley isn’t surprised when the authorities sniff around The Flip Side for a motive, but it’s her best friend Lisa who gets grilled, given her sticky history with the victim. When a second murder rocks the town, it makes it harder than ever for Marley to clear Lisa’s name. Marley’s afraid that she’s next in line to die—and the way things are looking, the odds of surviving her investigation could be stacked against her.

  A Lyrical Underground e-book on sale now.

  Keep reading for a special look!

  Chapter 1

  My car’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the driving rain. The windshield wipers swished back and forth in a rapid rhythm as I carefully navigated my way along the deserted streets of Wildwood Cove. Normally I preferred to walk to work each morning, trekking along the beach so I could listen to the crashing waves and smell the salty air. Lately, however, I’d been making more use of my blue hatchback. Over the past several days the weather had been less than inviting, drizzling with rain if not outright pouring, and chilly enough that the occasional glob of slush splattered against my windshield along with the pelting raindrops.

  The rain was supposed to let up in the next day or so, according to the weather forecast, so I hoped it wouldn’t be much longer before I could get back to enjoying my early morning walks along the shoreline. For the moment, though, I was grateful for the warmth and shelter of my car.

  When I turned into the small parking lot behind The Flip Side pancake house, I pulled up next to the only other car in the lot—a baby blue classic Volkswagen bug belonging to The Flip Side’s chef, Ivan Kaminski. He arrived even earlier than I did each morning, as did his assistant, Tommy Park. It was barely six o’clock, but I knew the two of them would have been working for a good while already.

  I shut off my car’s engine and grabbed my tote bag off the passenger seat, steeling myself for the upcoming dash through the pouring rain to the back door of the pancake house. As soon as I climbed out into the rain, I slammed the car door, ducked my head, and made a beeline for the slim bit of shelter provided by the recessed doorway.