Sunflowers and Sabotage
Copyright © 2019 by London Lovett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Lavender and Lies
Vegan Trail Mix Cookies
Recipe Card
About the Author
Chapter 1
Bear turned his big head toward the sound of Briggs' whistle and came bounding back toward us, his oversized paws splashing through the frothy shoreline and his elephant style ears flapping in every direction.
The sight of Bear loping always gave me a good laugh. "I believe your dog has mastered the art of galumphing."
Briggs nodded. "And as a parent, I can say I'm just proud that he's turned galumphing into an art. Is this a good spot?"
I turned around and inspected our chosen patch of sand. "Let's see—close enough to the water to feel its cooling spray, yet not so close that we'll have to jump up and grab all of our stuff out of the way of a rogue wave." I squinted up to the sky. It was early evening, but there were still a good two hours of sun. "Sun is at just the right angle to keep us toasty without shining directly in our eyes." I smiled at him. There was no finer sight than Detective James Briggs with ocean breeze swept hair and a scruffy five o'clock shadow. "It's perfect."
"Can't help but love a girl who methodically reasons out where to sit on the beach." Briggs set down the ice chest and pulled the blanket out from under his arm. We struggled against the aforementioned ocean breeze for a few minutes to get the blanket under control. The blue cotton throw finally surrendered its fight and floated serenely down on the sand just in time for Bear to land right in the center for a good salt water shake. Briggs and I simultaneously ducked away from the sea water spray coming off of the dog's fur.
"Well done, you big oaf," Briggs said. "I take back my proud parent comment." He nudged the dog to move to a corner of the blanket. "It's a little wet and sandy now. Should we shake it off?"
I circled my arm around. "I don't think we can avoid the sand. Besides, it gives our beach dinner a little ambience."
Three sandpipers were making their way along the water's edge engaged in a serious search for tiny crabs. Bear hopped up to his big paws and trotted down to the water to see if he could join them. They weren't too keen on the idea. The three birds raced on skinny legs down the sand. Bear trotted blithely behind them.
I hopped up on my knees and opened the ice chest. "Now remember, you promised to keep an open mind about these veggie sandwiches," I reminded him as I reached into the chest to pull out the food. "I stuffed two whole wheat rolls with a host of fresh goodies, all nutritious and healthy and vitamin-y that will make you grow tall and put hair on your—" I stopped short of finishing my commercial, blushing at the possible ways to end it.
My cheeks still warm, I handed Briggs his sandwich without looking him straight in the eye. However, I could feel his dark eyes on me.
"I'm waiting for you to finish," he teased. "I'm going to grow tall and there will be hair on my—?"
"Oh, stop it." I sat down. "Besides, that shouldn't be the most interesting part of my claim. After all, when was the last time you grew taller?"
He unwrapped his sandwich. "Hmm, I'd say just after my eighteenth birthday. I remember because I got a new pair of Levis and a month later my socks were showing."
I laughed. "Got to love a man who takes a completely rhetorical question and provides a detailed answer."
He reached for my hand and yanked me forward. I nearly fell into his lap. He kissed me. "If that's what it takes to win your love, then fire away with the rhetoricals."
I kissed him back and sat down on the blanket. Bear's attention had been stolen by the addition of another dog to the sandpiper chasing fun. His new friend seemed to be an eclectic mix of golden retriever and dachshund. Everything about the top half of the dog said normal everyday retriever, but the bottom half was completely dachshund.
Briggs caught the inconsistency too. "That dog looks as if he's a golden retriever standing in a hole. Where's the rest of him?"
Bear swung around and gave the dog a friendly pat with his big paw. The two played gently with each other, seemingly no longer interested in harassing sandpipers.
"See, Bear is such a good guy," I said. "No judgment or short jokes, just hello new friend, let's play."
The dog's owner, or person to be more politically correct since most of us tended to be owned by our pets more than the other way around, was a tall, lanky forty something woman wearing a purple sundress. She had set her chair and towel down about fifty feet from our evening picnic. A very imperious looking and beautiful gray standard poodle sat obediently next to her on its own towel. The poodle stared out at the two goofballs having fun down at the shoreline. I wondered if the poodle was watching them with derision, (silly, sloppy mutts giving the rest of us a bad name) or with envy, (wish I could just throw caution to the wind and roll in the wet sand).
I took a bite of my veggie sandwich. The layer of hummus and avocado was flavorful and creamy beneath the piles of cucumber, sliced radish and spinach. "Hmm, this is even better than I thought." I looked at Briggs who was on his second bite. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."
He nodded as he swallowed. "Very tasty. So what has us eating rabbit food? Is Elsie still on a health food kick? Rather hypocritical considering what the woman has done for the community's collective sugar and fat consumption."
"First of all, Elsie doesn't go on a kick . . . ever. A kick implies some sort of impetuous, flighty, sure-to fail spur of the moment idea. Elsie Norris throws her entire mind, body and soul into her plans, and this one was borne mostly from her brother's last physical. Les had both high blood sugar and cholesterol."
"I rest my case about my earlier comment." Briggs picked up a slice of fallen radish and tossed it onto the sand. A piece of cucumber slipped out next. "Lots of things trying to escape this sandwich. I think you need to slather mayonnaise on the bread to keep the veggies in line."
"Any condiment that requires slathering shouldn't be anywhere near a healthy sandwich. As I was saying, this isn't just a kick for Elsie. She is determined to change Les's unhealthy habits. She's even going to add some vegan choices at her bakery."
Briggs shook his head. "Those two words—vegan and bakery—should never be used in the same sentence. However, I am truly enjoying this sandwich." He took another big bite.
Bear seemed to have noticed that we were eating. He left his new friend slightly bewildered and sad as Bear galloped back to our blanket. The short retriever decid
ed to follow.
"Looks like we're going to be overrun by sandy, wet dogs," Briggs said.
I hopped up on my knees. "I brought some of Elsie's peanut butter dog treats." Elsie, the genius town baker, had come up with the clever plan to sell dog treats from her bakery. They were a hit. Rarely did a dog loving customer leave without purchasing a treat for Fido too. I pulled out two bone shaped peanut butter dog cookies.
The other dog's owner, the woman in the purple dress, hopped up from her towel. "Trigger, don't bother those people," she called. "Come here right now."
I waved. "It's all right. Can he have a peanut butter dog treat?" I called back.
She smiled and waved in return. "Sure, thank you." She said something to the poodle. The impeccably groomed dog sat down on its haunches, then the woman headed our direction.
"Now you've done it," Briggs muttered. "Our romantic picnic has turned into a dog party."
I handed Bear and Trigger the treats. They each found a corner of the blanket to sit and enjoy the cookies. The woman struggled to keep her naturally curly brown hair in check as she hiked across the sand. I could sympathize completely. I'd given up on trying to tame my natural curls just a month after moving to Port Danby.
"I'm so sorry about my dog. He knows better than to run onto someone else's beach blanket," the woman said as she reached us.
"Not at all," I said. "Bear is happy to have a new friend."
She laughed. "They did seem to hit it off right away. Unfortunately, his usual friend, Pebbles"—she motioned back to her poodle—"has been groomed for a show, so she's not allowed to play."
"What a coincidence, I'm making sunflower arrangements for a dog show. I own Pink's Flowers."
"What fun. I'd love to be surrounded by flowers all day," she said.
"Is she entered in the Chesterton Dog Show?" Briggs asked. "I saw them setting up for the event when I drove past the park today."
"Yes, it's a big deal. We're really hoping we take the grand champion ribbon this year," she said.
"Pebbles is a stunning dog," I said. "Good luck."
"Thank you. We've been working hard for this show. Pebbles is well-trained. Unfortunately, I've been neglectful about Trigger's training."
Right then, Bear, now finished with his treat, hopped up and pounced on Briggs. "As you can see," he said as he scrubbed Bear's head, "we've been sort of neglectful on that front too."
The woman laughed. "No wonder they get along so well." She pulled a business card out from her pocket. "I would love to make up for the mess my dog made on your blanket." She handed me the card. "I'm Ellen Joyner. I have an online store with an entire line of dog grooming products. My Lavender Pooch is my most popular shampoo. It can make your dog smell like a field of lavender. At least, in between swims in the ocean and rolls in the sand. Just type Pebbles in the coupon code and you'll get a twenty percent discount."
"Thank you." I handed the card to Briggs. "And again, good luck at the show."
"Come on, Trigger, you've bothered these people long enough." Trigger was hesitant to leave Bear, but a long withering look from his owner pushed him to his feet and he trotted after her.
Bear flopped down for a nap. "I don't know if Bear is the lavender type," Briggs said. "He's more a leather or musk or—what's another manly scent?"
"Testosterone?" I suggested.
Briggs smiled at me. "Even you and your super nose can't smell testosterone."
"Don't need to. It's more of an attitude than a fragrance. And it's not always a pleasant one either."
"I suppose you're right on all accounts." He maneuvered himself so that he was sitting right next to me with a perfect view of the water. "Nothing like a long summer evening with my favorite person and my big, wet dog."
I rested my head against his shoulder. "Yep. I've been complaining about the heat too much. Truth is, I'm going to miss these warm August nights."
Chapter 2
I finished tying the paw print ribbon around the last vase. I leaned back to get a good look at the arrangements. Bright yellow and orange sunflowers were nestled between stalks of blue delphinium and dotted with green button poms. "Your suggestion to add in the green button poms was brilliant," I told my shop assistant, Ryder, as he put finishing touches on each arrangement.
"Thanks. I thought between the royal blue of the delphinium and fiery mix of sunflowers, a spot of green here and there helped bring it back to earth."
I nodded. "Well put. Hopefully, I can get these arrangements to the dog show without any catastrophes. These tall bouquets are always less balanced." I walked to the end of the work island and picked up the broom. "James and I actually saw one of the dog show contestants at the beach last night. She was quite the stunner with her poodle pompoms. Her owner had another dog with her, an odd looking but sweet retriever dachshund mix."
Ryder laughed. "Those wiener dogs sure do get around. My neighbor has a collie mixed with a doxie, and it looks as if someone cut it off at the knees."
"Guess those short, squat genes are dominant." The door opened as I said it.
Les sighed loudly. "Are you guys talking about me? I heard someone say short and squat." Les was carrying a bowl that seemed to be brimming with a host of grilled vegetables. "Would you look at this, Ryder? Elsie calls this lunch."
Ryder and I walked over to peer into his bowl. Grilled zucchini, onions and sweet potatoes were nestled deliciously on a bed of quinoa. My nose picked up paprika and a dash of garlic salt.
"Hey, bro, that looks like a pretty sweet lunch to me," Ryder said. "And your heart will thank you afterwards."
"My heart might thank me but my stomach is saying 'have you lost your mind?'" Les sat on a stool at the work island. "Maybe if I eat amongst friends, it will be more fulfilling. Nice sunflowers, by the way."
"Thanks, they're for the dog show." I started sweeping the floor.
Kingston smelled the hot food and dropped right down from his perch to march purposefully across the floor
"Watch out, Les, looks like King is making a beeline for your veggie lunch," Ryder warned.
Kingston reached the stools and shook his shiny black feathers once before hopping up onto the counter. His black eyes zeroed in on Les's bowl.
Les didn't hesitate to drop a piece of zucchini on the counter for the bird. "I think I've just figured out a way to make these healthy lunches disappear and all without the torture of eating them myself."
Kingston picked up the slice of limp zucchini, tossed it around a few times and then dropped it back on the counter.
"Good try, Les," I laughed. "Unfortunately, Kingston feels the same way about cooked veggies as you. Looks like you'll have to eat the bowl all by yourself."
Les put down his fork. "I think the woman is trying to kill me with all this fiber. I'm going to blow up like a helium balloon and float away if I eat much more of this roughage. And then there's the philosophical conundrum," Les added.
Ryder and I looked at each other and shrugged.
"What philosophical conundrum is that?" Ryder asked.
Les swiveled on the stool to look at him. "Is life really worth living if it's void of cheeseburgers and malts? I mean, she's trying to save my life, but how long should I be expected to stay on earth without the occasional cheeseburger?"
I leaned the broom against the counter and walked over to the side where Les was sitting. I could see the entire diet idea was really upsetting him. Les was always jovial and easy going, but the bowl of vegetables in front of him seemed to be sucking the life right out of him. I sat on the stool. Kingston shifted from foot to foot, like an anxious kid, waiting and hoping that something much better would be coming out of the bowl than zucchini.
"Les, Elsie isn't doing this to torture you. She loves you and she wants you to be healthy. I know she can be somewhat controlling—"
Les's laugh nearly shook him off the stool. "If that isn't the understatement of the year."
"All right. Elsie likes to control thing
s, but that's one of the things we love about her. Otherwise, she wouldn't be Elsie. Why don't you make a compromise with her? Tell her you'll eat healthy, the foods she wants you to eat, for five days but then on the weekend you get to splurge. She might go for that, and I think you'll still see a big improvement on your cholesterol."
Les picked up the fork and moved the veggies around in the quinoa as if they might disappear if he stirred them enough. "That sounds more like a plan I could stick to. If I knew I could sit down with the guys and have a beer and nachos on Saturday night, I might be able to eat this strange stuff in between."
I laughed. "It's really not all that strange. Those are all vegetables that you can find sitting right in the produce section of the store."
He turned to me and blinked under his fluffy white mop of hair. "Exactly where is this mythical produce section?"
I nudged his shoulder. "You are worse than a kid when it comes to vegetables. Ask Elsie about the compromise. I think she'll agree." I hopped off the stool.
"I'll try but I think you're talking about the wrong Elsie. The one I know isn't too keen on compromise." He dug his fork into the bowl and plucked out a piece of sweet potato.
I nodded at Ryder. "One more fire extinguished. Just point out my next problem to solve."
Right then, Lola walked into the shop. She didn't take two steps before she sighed heavily. "What do you suppose the odds are that I could be abducted by aliens sometime in the next few hours before my parents get home?"
Ryder waved at her with a flourish and bowed his head at me. "Solver, I present you with your next problem."
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