Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set 2

by Rosie A. Point

  “What a disaster,” I said. “The minute we arrive we’re already unwanted.” The little knot of insecurity inside me—it had been there ever since my fiancé had left me—threatened to unravel.

  “Don’t take what that idiot has to say seriously. He’s clearly unhinged. The man’s wearing sweatpants and a gold chain, for heaven’s sake.”

  That brought a tiny smile out of me. “Still, that’s not the reception I expected. This place had good reviews.”

  Bee nodded. “Oh, here she comes.”

  Charlene had separated from the angry vest-wearing Van. She approached with a sheepish grin. “I’m so, so sorry about that,” she said. “He’s in a bad mood.” She forced a laugh, but there was a flash of something in her eyes. What was it? Anxiety? “Anyway, I’ve explained to him that you’re just here to check in.”

  “Who is he?” Bee asked. “And who are you?”

  “His name is Van Reed, and he’s the owner of the campgrounds,” she said. “I’m his wife, Charlene.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, belatedly.

  “And you.” She flicked her hair back, her smile more confident now. She had a lot of laugh lines. I liked that in a person. “Once again, my sincerest apologies. Van likes everything to go smoothly around here. But now that that’s out of the way, I can check you in! Did you book a lot?”

  “No,” Bee said.

  “Oh well, you’re very lucky indeed,” Charlene laughed. “We just so happen to have two spots open at the moment.”

  “Yes, we do feel lucky.” Bee’s dry tone wasn’t lost on Charlene. The hostess shifted on the spot.

  “Well, look, I don’t know if you planned on selling any of your food here but if you want to bake, you’re more than welcome to,” Charlene continued, casting a nervous glance at the office. “Just as long as you don’t sell. You know?”

  “Sure.” Honestly, I just wanted the conversation to be over already. We’d come to relax, not to be given the third degree by a man with an inordinate amount of chest hair.

  “You stay here, and I’ll be right back with all the forms and details you’ll need for your stay.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Charlene was already halfway up the stairs.

  Bee sighed. “Well, that was eventful.”

  “Not the warm welcome I expected after reading those rave reviews.”

  “And I thought we were only staying in one forest,” Bee said.

  I gave her a blank look.

  “You didn’t notice Van’s chest hair?”

  “Oh!”

  “Goodness,” Bee said, flashing me her gap-toothed smile. “I have to work on my jokes.”

  “Well, you’ll have plenty of time while we’re here.” My gaze lifted to the oak cabin and the sign that read ‘Office’ attached to its roof. “Assuming we don’t get thrown out within the first couple of hours.”

  2

  “You’re really good at this.” I swiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. The lot we’d been given sat between trees—the area sparser than the forest behind it—and sunlight streamed down on our parked food truck and the tent Bee had just finished setting up.

  “When I was a little girl, my father would take us camping every summer. He taught me how to set up tents and make a fire and find water. Survival stuff,” Bee said.

  “Like Bear Grylls?”

  “Kind of,” Bee replied. “But with less filtering water through a sock to make it drinkable.”

  I pulled a face. “I’ll pass on that. Good thing this place has amenities.”

  “Speaking of which, let’s take a look at that map.”

  Charlene had given it to us after we’d checked in. I flapped it open. “Let’s see what we have here.” Cutesy icons stood out on the glossy green background of the map. A river ran along the right border of the campgrounds, and the restaurant was situated next to a lake further down the long trail that wound between the lots.

  Each lot was decorated with a sign bearing its number, and the one across from ours held a fancy camper, sleek and glistening black.

  “They have a restaurant at least,” Bee said. “And an events hall—see?”

  “Right next to the offices.”

  “Not that we’ll be going back there any time soon. Imagine running into that egomaniac again. I’m surprised he hasn’t come storming down the road to harass us.”

  I tucked the map away. Our two-man tent would fit both Bee and me, but I couldn’t say I was particularly excited to be roughing out in the wilderness. It would be different, though. An adventure with new people to meet. Besides, there were bathrooms with toilets and showers. Bee was so excited about this too, I wouldn’t ruin it for her because I was less than thrilled to sleep on the ground.

  “All right,” Bee said. “I’m going to unpack our sleeping bags, and, after that, we can go for a walk. Discover some of the wilderness out here.”

  “And then we can make some macarons!”

  “Exactly.”

  Bee was the one who loved baking, but I’d started enjoying it too. It had become a comfort zone—when in doubt, we baked. That or we snooped around and tried to solve murder cases.

  When I’d first started out as an investigative journalist, I’d longed for adventure and excitement. I’d particularly enjoyed digging for the truth and that hadn’t gone away—people were incurably interesting.

  “Are you ready to go?” Bee emerged from the tent. “Let’s check this place out.”

  “Which way should we go?” I eyed the road that led between the lots and likely ended in the restaurant. My stomach grumbled.

  “I’m thinking through here.” Bee pointed toward a trail that swept into the forest. It was wide enough for the both of us to walk side-by-side. “We can check out the restaurant afterward. What do you say?”

  “Sounds fun.” I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. It did sound fun. Besides, we had an entire map of the campgrounds. It wasn’t like we could get lost.

  Bee and I took to the path and entered the forest. The deeper we got into the trees, the closer the trunks became and the smaller the trail. There was less light, and the distant sound of rushing water filtered through the peaceful quiet.

  Soon, we came to a clearing that brimmed with light and warmth.

  “This would make the perfect picnic spot!” I spread my arms. The walk had been leisurely, and a cool breeze swept through the trees. “Bee, we should totally make some macarons and—”

  A Labrador dashed into the clearing, barking wildly. It ran a circle around Bee and then one around me before coming to a halt in front of us, wagging its tail. It barked three more times and hopped up onto its hind legs before settling. A blue collar was tucked against its fur, the label on it clicking wildly.

  “Hello,” I said, and ruffled its fluffy ears. “What are you doing here?”

  “It must belong to one of the folks staying in the campgrounds.”

  “But who?” The dog licked my hands as I reached for its collar. “Buddy,” I said. “You’re a boy. Hello, Buddy, what are you doing out here?” I went to stroke him again, but he bounced backward before I could, lowering his fluffy chest to the ground, his doggy tail wagging on repeat.

  “I think he wants to play,” Bee said.

  “But he can’t be out here alone, can he?” I looked around.

  “He’s not wearing a lead.”

  “How strange.”

  Buddy barked two more times and hopped backward again. He turned and trotted off to the other side of the clearing in the woods.

  “I think he wants us to follow him,” Bee said, setting off.

  I opened my mouth to warn against it, but there wasn’t any harm in a bit of extra walking—empty belly or not. I followed Bee and Buddy into the other side of the woods and onto… not a trail. The doggo barked and tail-wagged, padding on ahead of us. The further we walked, the louder the sound of the river became, until, finally, we came out
on a riverbank.

  “It’s much wider than it looks on the map,” I said, over the rush of water.

  The river ran fast and clear over rocks, and though it was relatively shallow, I could imagine the current would easily sweep the feet out from underneath anyone trying to cross.

  “Ruby, look there.”

  Bee had spotted a small log cabin with a wraparound porch and a swinging seat that had long since lost its cushions. The door was shut tight, but one of the front windows was broken in.

  “Weird,” I said. “That’s definitely not on the map.” I tugged it out of my pocket and opened it up, flattening the creases with my fingertips. I tapped on the river, but there was no cheerful sign for a cabin anywhere near it.

  “It looks abandoned,” Bee said, and promptly climbed the front steps with Buddy the lost dog in tow. She peered into the window, cupping her hands either side of her face. “Nope, not abandoned. Someone’s definitely living here.”

  A high-pitched whistle sounded in the woods and Buddy let out a terrific bark, sending Bee back from the window, her hand flying to her chest. “Good heavens, was that necessary? You scared the donuts out of me.”

  But Buddy didn’t offer a wag-tail apology. He leaped down the front steps and barreled off into the woods again. Bad news for us, since he was the one who’d led us out here and I wasn’t sure which way would take us back.

  “Buddy!” I called. “Buddy, come back.” I waved the map—it didn’t show the trail through the forest. “Bee, let’s go. I don’t like this.”

  “What, the creepy abandoned log cabin in the woods? Why not?”

  “Funny.” I chased after Buddy, and Bee joined me a moment later. “Buddy!” I called again, and a distant bark answered.

  Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to find our way back to our lot?

  3

  “Buddy,” I yelled.

  “You’re going to make yourself hoarse,” Bee said, squeezing my arm. “Don’t worry, Rubes, we’ll find our tent. It’s a campground not a jungle.”

  Maybe she was right but getting lost was one of my worst fears—funny since I wanted nothing more than to hide from everyone who’d been a part of my old life. Perspiration gathered on the back of my neck, but a breeze cooled it.

  “I really thought this break would relax you,” Bee continued, taking the lead through the trees. She was admirable, whacking leaves out of the way, stepping over tree roots effortlessly. I kept stumbling over small rocks.

  “It will relax me once we find our way back to the trail. If I could—oh!” We had come out of the forest—somehow missed the clearing halfway to the camp—and were on the long road that wound through the campgrounds.

  Bee nudged me. “See? I told you.”

  “Good,” I said. “Because I’m starving.” I fumbled my now grubby map out of my pocket. “All right, what’s the closest lot to us?”

  “Number 20 is between the trees over there.” Bee gestured to a camper parked to our left. “And our lot is number 15.”

  “Oh, we’re close! It’s that way.” I gestured to the right.

  “Let’s grab some water from the truck then walk up to the restaurant. I think you’ve had enough adventure for one day. We’ll try cooking over a fire tomorrow night.”

  “OK.” I was privately relieved. I wasn’t ready to tackle cooking over an open flame.

  We arrived at the food truck in no time, only to find Buddy sitting outside the shining black camper across from it. A wire-thin man, wearing a set of glasses and a stubbly gray beard, sat in a camping chair in front of it, the firepit in his lot already crackling hot.

  “Buddy,” I said.

  The man smiled at us. “I see you’ve met my dog. Naughty little guy keeps running off. I can barely keep track of him most of the time—chews through all his leads.” He lurched out of his seat and came forward, presenting a hand. “You must be my neighbors. I’m Ronald Brink.”

  “Ruby Holmes.” We shook hands.

  Bee stood a pace or two back, arms folded. “Beatrice Pine.”

  “Nice to meet you both. I wondered when I’d get a lot neighbor. Don’t worry, I won’t be making too much noise. It’s just me and Buddy here, and we mostly keep to ourselves. Plenty to do in the campgrounds, you know. I mean the place is a bit rundown, but they have kayaking services and you can take a boat out on the lake if you feel like drifting for a while.”

  I wasn’t used to that much information delivered so quickly. “Great. We were about to go up to the restaurant to grab something to eat.”

  “Not a bad idea. I’ve only eaten there once or twice, but the food’s OK. Not exactly Michelin star quality, but passable.” Ronald grinned first at me and then at Bee. “But don’t fill up on restaurant food. There’s a campfire event tonight!”

  “A campfire event?” Strangely, Charlene hadn’t mentioned that. She’d been too busy worrying about her husband’s explosive temper, I’d wager.

  “Yes, they host one every Saturday. We all get together at the bonfire pit and have a barbecue, eat smores and tell spooky tales. It’s fun. I hope you two will come. It will be a great chance for you to introduce yourselves to the rest of the campers out here.”

  “Great. Right, that’s great.” I lifted my map to avoid answering him. He was quite full-on.

  He jabbed a finger onto the map. “That’s the campfire right there. See? It’s just a short way down the road from here, in an alcove off one of the forest trails. They really should put those trails on the map.”

  I opened my mouth to agree, but a woman appeared around the bend in the road, walking with a book tucked under her arm. She waved at Ronald, whose attitude shifted like he’d caught a whiff of something bad.

  “Hiya!” The young woman wore a pair of glasses right on the tip of her nose, her long brown hair swishing with every bouncy step. “How are you, Ronald?”

  “Not today, Lulu,” our lot neighbor replied. “I’m not interested, all right?”

  “Ronald, Ronald, Ronald.” Lulu stopped next to me and clicked her tongue. “Why do you always assume the worst? I’m not trying to sell you anything, I’m just here to say hello. Looking forward to the campfire event tonight?”

  Ronald didn’t answer her.

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other in my tennis shoes. Was it just me or had the spring air gotten decidedly cold? I glanced over at Bee, but she merely shrugged.

  “You must be new here,” Lulu said, turning to me after being severely snubbed. “I’m Lulu Moore. You might have heard of me.”

  My mind went blank. “Heard of you?”

  “Yes.” She presented the book she’d been carrying. “I’m an author.” The book’s cover was pale blue and depicted three cartoon ducks floating on the water. The title To Kill a Bath Duck had been printed in crimson across the center. Lulu’s name dominated the top of the cover, bigger than any of the other elements. “See?”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Lulu simpered. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of me. I’m relatively famous around here, you know.”

  “We’re not from Massachusetts,” I said.

  “She means in the campground,” Ronald put in. “And she is not famous.”

  “There’s no need to be so vitriolic, Mr. Brink.” Lulu waved the book at him. “This guy, sheesh. He has no appreciation for my work.”

  “Meaning I didn’t come to this campground to be sold to. I came to relax.”

  Was Lulu the person who Van had been so angry about? It didn’t seem right that she was peddling her books to people here—it was just… too salesman-like.

  “You know what’s a great way to relax, Ronald? With a good book.”

  Ronald let out a frustrated groan and gripped his forehead. “I don’t believe it. I can’t come out of my camper without you popping out of the ground like a mole.”

  “Are you making a joke about my bad eyesight? That’s not funny. I could report you to
the police for that.”

  “You can save your time and money and buy yourself a new set of ears while you’re at it,” Ronald said.

  “That doesn’t even make sense!”

  I backed away as the argument grew heated. Buddy barked from next to the camper, wagging his tail now and again. Ronald threw up his arms, Lulu talked fast and waved her book.

  “Good heavens,” I said to Bee. “So much for the peaceful break we planned.”

  “Don’t worry about them. Let’s go get something to eat. We’ll bake macarons when we get back and take them to the campfire event tonight. Sweeten the deal. Cheer some of these people up. Maybe get that horrible Van guy off our backs,” Bee whispered back.

  “Great idea.” We grabbed two water bottles from the truck and headed off, Lulu and Ronald still yelling at each other, now drawing the attention of the folks from the campers in the nearby lots. A few of them stood shaking their heads, others looked downright entertained and pulled up chairs to enjoy the show.

  Peaceful? Maybe not. At least, this week-long holiday would be interesting.

  4

  Later, in the evening…

  The bonfire pit was located just across from the offices and conjoined events hall, and when we arrived, it was encircled by a group of people, all chatting excitedly. Kids ran around, laughing or playing games on the grass, hurdling over the log benches, and the fire had already been started. It gave off waves of heat and shed shadows across the trees of the forest fringing the area.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  “Hmm. If you say so.” Bee held a Tupperware packed with macarons we’d made fresh that afternoon, after Lulu and Ronald had quit fighting. “I don’t see how they’re going to cook anything on a fire that big.”

  “We won’t be cooking on the fire,” a woman spoke behind us.

  Bee and I both jumped, but it was only Charlene, the owner’s wife.

  “Sorry,” she laughed, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I overheard you talking about the food, and I wanted to let you know that we won’t be cooking over that fire. Van’s setting up the cookfires over there.”