Croissants and Corruption
A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery
Danielle Collins
Contents
Copyright
Message to Readers
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
Thank You!
Recipes
Copyright © 2017 Fairfield Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
It was the beginning of a perfect late spring day in North Bank, Virginia, despite the fact that the sun hadn’t yet come up. The crisp air coming off the Potomac invigorated Margot Durand as she picked up her pace down the street on the way to her bakery, The Parisian Pâtisserie. It sat at the river’s edge waiting for lights and the scent of baking pastries to fill the space.
It was a typical early morning—a baker’s morning—aside from the fact that, as Margot unlocked the front door and rushed to disarm the alarm, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Who in the world is calling me at three in the morning?
Depositing her bag on the counter and flipping on the bright halogen lights, she dislodged her phone from her back pocket and jammed her finger against the screen before she lost the call.
“Hello?”
“Heya, sis.”
“Renee?” Margot blinked in shock. Her sister lived in California and, with a little mental math, Margot realized it was midnight for her. “Why are you calling me so…late?”
“It’s early there, right?”
Margot nodded then remembered her sister couldn’t see her. “Yes. I’ve just made it to the bakery.”
“I figured…” Her sister trailed off, but Margot caught the hint of warning in her voice.
“Rae, what is it?”
After a lengthy silence, Renee said one word. “Taylor.”
“Oh no.” Margot dropped into her desk chair, swiveling her knees under the counter and propping her chin on her palm. “What’s she done this time?”
An image of her niece—long blonde hair and the perfect California tan that came from living in Laguna Niguel—filled her mind. She was what, nineteen now? And there was no end to the grief she had given Renee.
“She’s all but failed out of her second semester at Coastline Community College and I’m at my wit’s end to know what to do with her. She’s running around with a bunch of beach bum surfers and I swear she thinks she’ll be able to live like that for the rest of her life. She has no idea what hard work means and…” Her sister took in a shuddering breath. “I think she could be into drugs.”
“Oh, Renee…” Margot shook her head, sending up a prayer for her sister’s daughter as much as for her sister. “What will you do?”
Another long pause. So long, in fact, that Margot began to wonder if her sister was still on the line.
Finally, she spoke again. “I need to ask a huge favor.”
A feeling of dread sunk into the pit of Margot’s stomach. It was the same feeling she got when trying out a new recipe and knowing for a fact that it wasn’t going to turn out.
“What do you mean?”
“Can you please take Taylor for the summer?”
“Take…her? What do you mean?”
“I don’t care that she’s old enough to make her own decisions.” Renee’s voice steeled as she went on. “I want to send her to live with you for the summer. I want her to work for you. I think showing her how rewarding owning your own business can be will be a really great thing for her. It may even save her life, Marg.”
Save her life.
The words echoed through Margot but the terror remained. “Are you crazy?”
Renee laughed. “I’ve been accused of worse.”
“No, I mean, what makes you think she’ll want to stay with me?”
“Because we’re cutting her off if she doesn’t go.”
“Cutting her off?” Margot repeated the words, trying to make sense.
“We’ve been footing the bill for her little escapades, but no longer. We’re giving her an ultimatum. She either goes to stay with you and work for you for the summer, or she’s…out of the house.” Her sister’s voice broke on the last word.
“I’m so sorry, Rae. That’s not something you want to say about your own daughter.”
“No.” Her sister let out a heavy sigh. “With Dillon working on that oil rig months at a time, I haven’t had the strength—or the clout—to deal with this. Am I a bad mother, Marg? You know it was hard for me to step in like this…”
“Of course you’re not a bad mother!” Margot was quick to reassure her sister. “You’ve done a great job with her. It’s not your fault she’s acting out. She just needs some guidance.”
“So…” Her sister’s voice was full of hope.
“I’ll take her.” God help me.
“You will?”
“Yes. But she should know there will be strict rules. The life of a baker isn’t easy and—”
“She’ll do it. Trust me. When her father comes home and conveys our rules, she’ll agree. Or, at least I hope so. Thanks, sis. I really want to see this turn her life around.”
The weight of what Margot was agreeing to rested squarely on her shoulders as they said their goodbyes.
Shining stainless steel counter tops beckoned for their daily dusting of flour as Margot made her way back into the kitchen. She stretched her fingers and donned her apron, turning the stereo on so that classical music wafted from her mounted speakers.
But, just before she dropped the first ingredients into her mixing bowl, she stopped, resting her hands against the cold metal top of her workstation.
What was she doing? Had she lost her mind, agreeing to take in Taylor? The teen was notorious for being a troublemaker, but it was more than that. There was a lot of hurt for her to deal with having lost her mother at age eleven. When Renee married Dillon, Taylor was thirteen and not looking for another mother. Six years and she still hadn’t accepted Renee.
Wiping away a stray hair from her shoulder, Margot dropped eggs one at a time into the sugar and milk concoction in the industrial mixer. Maybe the Lord had a bigger use for Margot’s spare bedroom than a place to collect the dusty stacks of paperback mysteries she had collected. Maybe it was time to open up her home and her heart to her niece in a way that could bring healing to them both.
“I thought you were getting that young thing at the airport today.”
Margot delivered a steaming caramel pecan cinnamon roll and cup of black coffee to the small, round table where Bentley Anderson, one of her regular customers, sat with newspaper in hand.
“I’m just waiting for Rosie to show up.”
“Saw her at the senior center last night,” Bentley said tak
ing a sip of his coffee. “She and Betty were tearing it up at the pinochle table.”
The corner of Margot’s mouth quirked. “Real exciting, I’m sure.”
“Hey, watch it, young lady.” He stared her down, one bushy eyebrow raised. “Things get exciting over at the senior center. You’d be surprised.”
“Don’t I know it?” She propped hands on her hips. “I volunteer at least once a month over there. You all are a rambunctious bunch.”
“You should bring that niece of yours over.”
Margot narrowed her eyes. “You know, that’s a good idea.”
“I’m full of them.” Bentley’s laugh was rough and mingled with the sound of bells from the door opening.
“There you are,” Margot said, watching as Rosie stepped into the bakery and undid the bright yellow scarf she had tied around her short, gray and black hair.
“It’s gusting out there.”
“That’s not a real word,” Bentley said, his gaze fixed on the paper.
“It sure is.” Rosie eyed him but turned her attention back to Margot. “Sorry I was late, took a little longer to get going this morning.”
Any other morning and Margot wouldn’t have even noticed her part-time employee being a few minutes late, but she had at least a thirty-minute drive to Ronald Regan Airport to pick up Taylor and you never knew what traffic was going to be like.
“No problem, but I’m late. You’ll be all right?”
Rosie gave her a look. “You know I’ll be fine, girl. Now go!”
Grinning, Margot grabbed her purse and light jacket from the backroom and rushed out the door to where she’d parked at the end of Main Street in the public parking lot. Pulling onto the freeway, she glanced at her phone, happy to see she hadn’t received a text from Taylor yet.
Thankfully, traffic wasn’t as bad as she’d expected and she pulled into the pickup line right on time, her eyes scanning for Taylor’s blonde hair and lithe frame.
A waving hand caught her attention and she pulled the car over, recognizing Taylor instantly.
“Hello!” Margot said, slipping out of the car with extended hands.
“Hey, Aunt Margot,” Taylor said, thin arms wrapping around her.
“We need to feed you some pastries,” Margot said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re much too thin.”
Taylor blushed, her grin widening. “A girl needs to watch her figure if she’s going to the beach every day.”
“Good thing you won’t be spending much time at the beach then.” The girl’s expression fell and Margot rushed to explain. “It’s freezing, Taylor!”
“It’s going to be summer,” she said, laughing.
“True, but by that time, you’ll be elbow deep in dough.”
She sent a look to the side, but Margot read it loud and clear. She was not happy about the arrangements.
“Let’s get your stuff into the car and head back to North Bank. We’ll get you settled in the spare bedroom and then I’ll take you out for Italian. You do still like Italian food, right?”
“Yeah.” Her response was noncommittal but Margot decided not to let it affect her. Things were going to change, that was a given, but she would make the most of it.
They drove back down I-365, blessedly going against the flow of traffic, and by the time Margot exited the freeway and pulled into the small parking pad in front of her historic row house, Taylor had loosened up, if only a little.
“I remember visiting here.”
“That’s right. You were…what, fourteen?”
“Yeah.” She pulled her backpack from the backseat and Margot picked up her suitcase, dreading the ascent up the steep steps that climbed to the narrow entry way.
“Want some help?”
Hefting the bag, Margot shook her head. “I’ve got it. I’ve been taking Krav Maga classes.”
“Seriously?” Taylor’s eyebrows disappeared into her fringy blonde bangs.
“Hey, your aunt isn’t some old lady. I like to stay active. Hiking, biking, baking, and now, self-defense.”
Taylor shook her head as Margot hefted the suitcase up and climbed the stone steps. Breathing heavy, she took the inside stairs more slowly until they stood in front of the small guest bedroom.
“I tried my best to stack the crime novels out of the way. I didn’t do such a good job.”
The girl peered in the room and her eyes widened. “Wow. Have you read all of those?”
Margot surveyed the wall-to-wall bookshelves stacked with crime novels, mysteries, and thrillers. “Not all. A lot of them were Julian’s.” Margot caught the saddened expression of her niece. “Your uncle was a great man and he loved to read. It always shocked me, knowing that his job as detective put him in something like a crime novel every day, but he couldn’t get enough of them for some reason. He said he liked to guess ‘whodunit’ in real life and fiction.”
“I miss him.”
Her niece’s soft words surprised Margot. She and Julian hadn’t been around her sister very often. Living on the opposite side of the country did that to a family, but they had made an effort to get to know Renee’s husband and his daughter.
“He really liked you.”
Taylor turned surprised eyes upward. “Yeah?”
“He didn’t call you mon canard for nothing.”
Taylor laughed. “I never got why he wanted to call me a little duck.”
“It was just his way of showing his affection.”
“He used to write me letters.”
“He did?” Margot felt a rush of warmth flood her chest. Her husband had been a wonderful, kind, and caring man. It didn’t really surprise her that he would have taken a special interest in his sister-in-law’s adopted daughter.
“Yeah. It was after we came to visit here. He started sending letters and cards almost every month. I really looked forward to them. I’m sorry…that he’s gone.”
“Me too, Tay,” Margot said, resting her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Hey, why don't you get settled in then we’ll go to dinner? The dresser over there is empty and you can hang anything you want in the closet. We’ll have to share the bathroom, but I think we’ll manage.”
Taylor nodded without saying anything and closed the door behind her, leaving Margot in the hall. Thoughts of her late husband squeezed at Margot’s heart, but the ache was different than it had been. Five years had gone a long way to heal the brokenness, though the place he’d filled in her life would never be the same again.
Chapter 2
Taylor emerged from her room forty minutes later looking exhausted but insisting she was hungry. Margot knew the jetlag wouldn’t really catch up to her before the morning, but her niece had taken an early flight so she assured her it would be a quick dinner break then to bed for them both.
When they pulled into the small parking lot at the back of Pane Dolce, Taylor sent a wary look her way. “Sweet Bread?”
Margot laughed. “I forgot you took Italian in High School. Antonio didn’t think anyone would know what it said, at least that’s the way he tells it. I always thought he just didn’t know what to name his restaurant.”
Taylor looked doubtful.
“Despite the name,” Margot rushed to assure her, “it’s the best, most authentic Italian cuisine this side of the Atlantic.”
“Whatever you say.”
They entered through the back door and a large, salt and pepper-haired man rushed up to them with arms held wide. “Mia bella!”
“Hello, Antonio,” Margot said, kissing both of his cheeks in the traditional greeting. “This is my niece, Taylor. She’ll be staying with me for the summer.”
“È molto carina. She is very pretty. Like her aunt, no?”
Taylor blushed and Margot laughed. “We’d like a table, you old flirt.”
“Sì. For you, my best table. This way.”
They trailed behind him in the busy restaurant and he seated them at a round table in the bay window at the front of the restaurant.
>
“I feel like we’re on display,” Taylor muttered under her breath.
“Sì. Such beauty cannot be hidden,” Antonio said with a devilish grin.
He handed over their menus and promised to return soon to take their order personally. Taylor studied her menu for a moment before putting it down, resting her head in the palm of her hand, eyes on the crowd in the large, dimly lit room.
“You okay?” Margot asked, putting down her own menu.
“Yeah. Missing my friends, I guess.”
“Oh?”
Taylor shot her a look. “I know. Renee probably told you that I hang out with a bunch of deadbeats, but they really aren’t bad guys. And, no matter what Renee thinks—I’m not doing drugs, Aunt Marg.”
The words stole Margot’s breath. She didn’t want to speak against Renee or incite the girl’s anger. It was dangerous territory that Margot wanted to tread carefully. Then again, the first night Taylor was in Virginia and during their first meal—in public no less—probably wasn’t the time to have a serious conversation with her.
“Your mom cares about you,” she said, hoping the use of ‘mom’ wouldn’t offend the girl. “She’s just worried.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
Margot was about to press the point when a waiter showed up with a pitcher of water. He was young, likely in his early twenties, and had a flashy smile pointed toward Taylor.
“Buonasera, lovely ladies. Can I get you something to drink besides water?”
Margot fought the urge to wave a hand in front of his face as if to remind him that she was there as well, but it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Water’s fine,” she said.
“And you?”
Margot imagined she could see the hormones flying between the two and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ah, to be nineteen again. She cringed at the reality though, knowing she wouldn’t wish to go back to that tenuous time.
“Water’s good,” Taylor said, her smile sliding into place with the perfect amount of flirtation.
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