by Eve Calder
“Thank you. We’re baking cookies from here on,” Kate said. “I want to do some sort of a cookie contest, too, but I haven’t worked out that part of it yet.”
“These are great,” Justin said after tasting a chocolate crinkle. “How do you get them so chocolatey?”
“Unsweetened cocoa powder. And a little less sugar. That way, you really taste the chocolate.”
“These are really good,” Ben said, delicately taking two more in his mitt-sized hand and dropping one right into his mouth. “At this rate, I might pitch a tent on the porch. Nice music, by the way.”
“It’s a party,” Kate said. “And what’s a celebration without music?”
“Got that right,” Maxi seconded, circling through the shop with the coffee carafe. “Hey, I think the rain’s letting up!”
At that moment, the door opened and more people piled into the shop.
“Hi, Andy, how’re things down at the pub?” Ben asked.
“Typical Saturday. Although I think the rain slowed some of them. Place is full right now, so I’ve got to get back quick.”
“How about some hot coffee?” Maxi asked.
“I’ve had so much, I’m practically floating. But Bridget thought you might need a few of those big collapsible tables. For the reopening? I’ve got ’em out in the SUV. And I wouldn’t turn down a couple of loaves of bread. Whatever you’ve got. The breakfast crowd is cleaning us out this morning.”
“We’ve got plenty of everything,” said Kate. “Except the sourdough. I haven’t gotten that one in the oven yet. Come on back into the kitchen and you can take your pick. Then we’ll get those tables.”
“I’m on it,” the detective said. “Toss me the keys.”
Andy pitched them overhead, and Ben snatched them out of midair. “Just save me a couple more of those crinkles,” the detective said, lurching out the door.
“We can help you lug ’em in,” said Justin. “Don’t want anybody scratching our sweet paint job.”
An hour later, the sun was shining and the porch was standing room only. Most people had spilled out onto the lawn, hot cups and cookies in hand. Someone—Kate didn’t know who—had lent them an iPod and set it up out of sight on the porch.
Kate and Maxi had hung the balloon banner from the eves of the porch, and Maxi had tied bunches of balloons—in pink, white, and fuchsia—to the railing, the mailbox, and the food tables.
Amos Tully showed up with three grocery bags stuffed full of paper plates, napkins, and hot cups. “All of ’em biodegradable,” he assured Kate. He left with three dozen assorted cookies and a half-dozen loaves of bread “for the shop.”
Kate studied him while he was chatting with Maxi, and tucked in an extra dozen oatmeal cookies with raisins. Just for him.
Harper Duval contributed a few large tubs of pricy cheese spread and some rich Irish butter, “so the bakery could showcase its breads.” Then he quietly handed Maxi a bottle of French champagne, “so you all can pop a cork later to celebrate.”
Maxi had dragged over three of the industrial-sized green garbage cans she used at the shop and spaced them at regular intervals on the lawn. “Otherwise, we’re gonna spend all day tomorrow picking up trash,” she explained. She even tied balloons to the handles of each can, “so people notice ’em.”
Halfway through the day, Peter reappeared with the kids, Esperanza, and Oliver in tow. By then, the reopening was taking on the air of a block party. A jazz quartet had set up in the grass right off the porch. Iced tea had replaced hot coffee. And the throng of tourists streaming in from the resorts was so steady it looked like a parade coming down Main Street. Parking was nonexistent.
Somewhere amidst all the ruckus, Kate managed to slip back into the kitchen. For a minute, she tried to absorb it all. The music, the happy thrum of people mixed with the smells of cinnamon, butter, yeast, and chocolate from the bakery. The bright summer sunshine filtered through the humid salt air. Maxi’s green grass and flourishing flowers. Kate popped a ginger snap into her mouth and thought of Oliver.
The mischievous puppy turned out to be a one-dog ambassador—for Coral Cay and the Cookie House. Peter had fitted him out in a blue polka-dot bow tie. And everyone wanted to take selfies with him.
Luckily, the pup relished the attention. Especially when it was accompanied by a ginger snap.
Kate pulled out one of the kitchen drawers, reached her hand to the very back, and gently lifted out a folded-up crossword puzzle page. She read it slowly. Twice. Then she refolded the paper and slipped it into her slim jeans pocket.
She measured out the flour, dumped it into the blue bowl, added a bit of tap water, and—last but not least—reached for the infamous Francine. Then Kate began mixing up a batch of Sam’s famous sourdough.
* * *
The reopening party—and the cleanup—lasted well into the night. While Maxi blamed the tourists, Kate recognized a lot of the faces who stayed until the bitter end.
And they were both thrilled.
“Let’s pop that cork,” Maxi said when they finally got home. “What kind of cookies go best with champagne?”
“Swedish butter cookies. Oooh, and my grandma’s anise and almond cookies. Did you notice someone actually put out a tip jar?”
“With Sam’s face on it! For his defense fund. The photo was from our last town tree-lighting party. I remember ’cause he was wearing a red flannel shirt and he was actually smiling.”
“Who did it?” Kate asked.
“No idea, but there were some pretty serious checks in there. I had Peter lock it in my office safe. I figure we can count it Monday and take it to Sam’s bank.”
“Wow,” Kate said quietly. “And I was worried that no one would come. We did it. We really did it.”
“We did. Us and the whole town. Even the bobo showed up.”
“You’re kidding,” Kate said. “I didn’t see him. Are you sure?”
“You were in the back. He brought a date, and they didn’t stay long. But give the boy credit, he came. So, should I ask about the sourdough?”
“You wanna know what goes best with champagne? Sourdough.”
“I’ll pop the cork, if you slice,” Maxi said.
“If it’s anything like that second batch, we’re gonna need more than a bread knife.”
“If it’s anything like the second batch, I’m gonna skip it and have another glass of bubbles.”
Maxi grabbed an orange tea towel and twisted the cork until there was a gentle pop. Then she put the bottle on the counter and headed for the fridge.
“What now?” Kate asked as she sliced into the loaf.
“Hey, if I’m eating sourdough after midnight I want the whole experience. I’m getting some butter. So how does it look?”
Kate cut off two slices and offered one to Maxi. As the florist slathered the bread with butter, Kate sniffed hers, broke off a piece, and popped it into her mouth. She smiled.
“Ay, that must be a good sign,” Maxi said. “If even you like it. Umm, this is good! Like Sam-quality good. How did you finally do it? What’s the big honking secret?”
“Sam gave me his recipe,” Kate said. “As much as he has a recipe. And a pep talk. And I think that last part is what I really needed.”
“So tomorrow we can sell the whole load of this stuff to the pub?” Maxi asked. “Hola, dinero!”
“Yup. Right after I drop off the first two loaves to Gabe at the garage. That man loves a good sourdough.”
Chapter 47
As the morning sky turned from pink to flame, Kate planted one foot firmly on her orange beach towel, stretched upward with all her might, and strained not to fall over.
Down the beach, she could hear the waves washing the shore as the seagulls screeched overhead.
“Relax and breathe…,” Sunny instructed rhythmically. “Just like the tide in front of you. In. And out. And in. And out.”
“How am I s’posed to relax and stretch and breathe?” Maxi mumbled from Kate’s r
ight. “Pick one, already.”
“Sunrise yoga was your idea,” Kate whispered, struggling to hold the position. “You said it was calming.”
“Well, yeah,” Maxi countered. “’Cause if you survive, you feel like you can do anything. Plus, Sunny’s outdoor classes are an excuse to hit the beach.”
“And down,” Sunny said. “Now, the Dead Man pose.”
“Finally, one I can do,” Kate said softly as everyone lay on their mats.
“Dead men don’t talk,” Sunny admonished with a wink. “At least, not the ones I’ve met.”
Most of the two dozen students wore bathing suits. Including Sunny herself, who was trim and firm in a baby-blue one-piece. And while some had dutifully toted yoga mats, others—like Kate and Maxi—showed up with colorful beach towels. “Easier to clean,” Maxi explained on their bumpy, predawn Jeep ride.
But the visitors from the resorts, who’d arrived en masse on a shuttle, sported matching yoga mats, headbands, and water bottles. They even carried identical navy-blue gym bags.
“It’s a cult,” Maxi said under her breath as the crowd disembarked from the small white van.
Kate had to admit, Maxi had been right about taking her first class on the beach. Between the exercise, the sound of the waves, and the sea air, she was so relaxed she was limp. It was all she could do not to fall asleep between poses.
But Sunny’s “gentle stretching,” which felt like a cross between physical therapy and Twister, was an ugly wake-up call. In New York, like here, Kate had hiked nearly everywhere. And a third-floor walk-up had been great cardio.
But flexibility, apparently, was a whole other carton of eggs.
Kate resolved to just give up and get through it. So what if her first yoga class was also her last yoga class?
Then something clicked. Literally.
As she exhaled a boatload of stress and worry, Kate felt her vertebrae shift and heard a crack. Then she pushed herself infinitesimally forward.
“That’s it,” Sunny encouraged, from off to her left. “Juu-st relax into it. Let everything go. Empty your mind. It’s just you and the beach.”
Kate focused on the skyline. Flame had turned golden as the sun rose slowly above the water, breaking through thin clouds. Beneath it, the Gulf was a calm deep blue.
Everything else faded. Kate could hear the rush in her ears, the waves in the background, and Sunny’s melodic instructions off in the distance. The air was cool and humid. The sand was soft and welcoming. At one point, two lemon-yellow butterflies tumbled by, almost as if they were chasing each other—playing. She could smell coconuts—someone’s sun tan lotion—and wild roses, growing just off the beach.
And then it was over. Kate had no idea how much time had elapsed. It was as if she’d been somewhere else. But she’d really been here—totally in the moment. It was everything else that had faded away.
“Now our class is complete,” Sunny said. “Go out and have a wonderful new day—and make the most of it!”
Kate stood up and rolled her shoulders. She felt happy. Energized and calm at the same time.
“What’s next?” she asked Maxi.
“Are you kidding?” her friend said as they watched their classmates run toward the surf. “This is the best part. Now we hit the water!”
Chapter 48
As she cleared the lunch dishes from Maxi’s outdoor table, Kate mentally ticked off boxes in her head. The grand opening had pretty much cleaned out the shop. She wanted to spend the afternoon baking, so they’d be ready to open tomorrow morning. Plus, she’d been playing around with a new idea for a cookie recipe she wanted to try. One with coffee and chocolate—inspired by Esperanza’s special brew.
Still, she was surprised when Maxi was the one who suggested stopping by Flowers Maximus.
“Just need to see about some tulips for later this week,” the florist confessed. “And I want to check on the bedding plants out back. Course if you want to start by offering me a cup of coffee and some leftover cookies next door, I wouldn’t object. Even if it is that weak americano stuff.”
Twenty minutes later, Kate was standing in the upstairs doorway of the Cookie House, staring at a beautiful new bed.
With a low-slung Japanese design, the mattress appeared to float on a horizontal platform over the floor. The wood was a dark, rich mahogany color, flanked on either side with a delicate rice-paper column lamp. The headboard just tall enough to allow her to sit up and read in bed. It was topped off with soft pastel aqua sheets and a thick turquoise comforter.
“Best of all, it has two big drawers to give you extra storage,” Maxi said. “In a small space you have to be super organized. I learned that watching the show about people who live in those teeny tiny houses.”
“This is … it’s absolutely … I can’t believe…,” Kate started.
Maxi wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulder as Kate teared up.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate finally finished in a whisper.
“Yup, it looks great,” Maxi said happily. “Like it was made for this room.”
“You had this planned all along?” Kate asked.
“Not just me. Pretty much all of Coral Cay,” Maxi said. “Rosie found it. Andre and his guys hauled it over and set it up while we were at yoga this morning. They got it at cost. And all of us chipped in to cover it. Oh, and Mitzy Allen supplied the sheets and pillows and comforter from her shop. She thought you’d like beach colors. Course I think that’s just ’cuz she didn’t have anything with Yoda on it.”
“I can’t accept this,” Kate whispered as a tear trailed down her cheek.
“You’re not accepting anything,” Maxi said matter-of-factly. “If he was here, mi padrino would be paying you a salary. So you’d be biking around town buying up everything you need. But instead, no money, tons of work, aannd you’re gonna sleep on that pile of pick-up sticks? Uh-uh, no good. And in this town, we take care of our own.”
“I can’t believe it’s the same room,” Kate said, her voice husky. “This beats any suite at the resort.”
“Well yeah,” Maxi said, giving Kate’s shoulder a squeeze. “Esto es hogar. This is home.”
Chapter 49
Later that afternoon, Kate prepped her latest cookie experiment: Thin, crisp mocha wafers. She cranked one of the small bakery ovens to 350 degrees, then resumed mixing the dough.
Technically, the Cookie House was closed—with the sign on the door to prove it. But Kate also left it unlocked for Maxi. Or anyone with a bakery emergency.
So she wasn’t all that surprised to hear the front door—combined with the tinkle of a bell—alerting her to someone in the shop.
“Now you stay right there,” a man’s voice pleaded. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
Kate came through the swinging doors just in time to see Manny Stenkowski hesitating at the front door.
“Hey, got some news. Thought I’d come out here and trade,” he said, furtively glancing back at the porch.
“What’s out there?” Kate said, pointing.
“Oh, I got custody of John Quincy today. I figured if I had to be out here, I’d show him the town.”
Kate peeked around him, saw two intelligent almond eyes staring back, and grinned. “You guys get settled on the porch, I’ll bring us some coffee. I think I might have something that he’ll like, too.
“You missed our reopening yesterday,” Kate said as she carried a tray through the door minutes later. “I thought for sure you’d be here with the telephoto lens.”
“Hey, for what I was doing yesterday I should get combat pay. Figured the best way to get the skinny on your friend Lord might be to venture into his jungle. And let me tell you, it was brutal.”
“What exactly is his jungle?” Kate asked. The man she’d seen didn’t travel anywhere without bespoke suits, a stretch limo, and a uniformed driver.
“Swanky country club. The nineteenth hole, to be specific.”
Kate looked puzzled.
Kate took a ginger snap and put it in front of John Quincy. The beagle sniffed it. Then he licked it. He must have liked the taste, because it was gone in one bite. He settled himself by her feet and looked up hopefully.
She put another ginger snap in front of him. When she looked back a split second later, it was gone.
John Quincy looked up at her with innocent brown eyes. She couldn’t help smiling. She let him sniff the top of her hand, then scratched behind his ear. His coat felt like warm velvet.
Manny grinned. “He’s a charmer,” the detective said proudly. “Anyway, it seems that for the last couple of months your friend Lord had been spreading the word that he was part of a consortium that was going to buy up Coral Cay and develop it. Starting with downtown.”
“But it’s already developed. Some of these buildings have been here for more than a hundred years. Including this one.”
“To that guy, they were just placeholders. Until he and his buddies could build what they wanted. But lately, that all changed. He’d been telling everyone that the group put the brakes on. They’d pulled out of Coral Cay and abandoned the project.”
“Why? When?”
“Little less than a month ago.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Lord was trying to buy the Cookie House on the day he died. Did he ever say why the group pulled out?”
“Oh yeah. That’s the headline. And it really would have been a headline, if he’d lived. Still might be, for all I know,” Manny said, stroking John Quincy’s back and holding out a ginger snap, which promptly vanished.
“The consortium commissioned some sort of land report,” the P.I. continued. “Soil and water quality. Apparently, it’s standard ops before launching something that big. Then, before any final permits are issued, the government guys will follow up with a second report of their own. You know, dot the i’s and cross the t’s. But this was the first report. The private one. Just for the consortium. So they could decide if the deal was worth all their time and money. And downtown Coral Cay flunked big-time. Lord’s been telling everybody that the whole area is sitting on a giant sinkhole.”