Batter Off Dead

by Maymee Bell

  “We are. Your father pledged a nice donation to Cat, and she insists he give it at the fund-raiser along with Ray Peel’s donation.” She shivered with excitement. Bitsy loved a good fund-raiser, especially where a lot of money was to be given.

  “Ray Peel?” I asked.

  “Yes. The Friends of the Library are all aflutter with his pledge. It’s about time he gives his share for this town.” Her fine silky eyebrows rose a trifle. She leaned in to whisper a little gossip: “Half a million dollars.”

  “Half a million?” My jaw dropped.

  “Cat is beyond excited. She was shaking when she told us. This means we don’t have to hold any more fund-raisers after the addition is built. The loan they took out with the bank will be free and clear. I can’t wait to see Bob Bellman’s wife tonight. I heard he got a big, fat check for landing the loan from the bank.”

  “I bet.” I still couldn’t get past the fact that Ray Peel had donated half a million dollars.

  “The Friends of the Library can continue to bring the library to the public and not worry about things like a silly little mortgage on the expansion.” Bitsy had been a member of the Friends of the Library since before I was born.

  Bitsy was a member of practically every club, society, and gossip circle in Rumford.

  She lifted the edge of her sleeve and checked her watch. “I’ve got to run. And your father will be so happy to see you at the fund-raiser.” She held the box in the air and played the guilt card. “You’ve been so busy here, we’ve missed you for supper or even just a drop by.”

  “I know. I’ll be over soon.” I smiled and hugged her.

  “Then I’ll see you tonight,” she said. “Your father is going to love these.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.” I gave her one last hug before I walked her to the door and made sure she got into her car and didn’t come back.

  The old Ford’s Bakery sure didn’t look the same. I couldn’t stop the smile from curling up on the edges of my lips when I turned around and saw all the changes I’d made. The old lights had been replaced with some hanging jeweled chandeliers. The glass display counter had been replaced with a long antique credenza I’d painted with white milk paint. A three-shelf glass display case sat on top of the credenza. The crisp lighting in the case really showed off the beautiful cookies, hand pies, donuts, and other sweet pastries. On the top, I placed domed cake plates holding delicious to-go cakes. All the old walls had been covered with white shiplap, and the floors had been replaced with white tiles. It was a sea of white with colorful treats to give it the perfect pop to make it cozy and inviting.

  It was the display windows that were the most fun. Kentucky was a beautiful state in all four seasons. Each season required a different level of comfort in our food. It was no different with desserts. A heavy winter chess pie wasn’t a big seller in the spring, so when I opened For Goodness Cakes, I knew I was going to cater to the seasons. The display window showed off the amazing spring season we were having.

  There were two trees on each side of the window with white bud flowers and a mossy floor. Each tree trunk had a garland of magnolia leaves wrapped around it. I’d taken an old park bench I’d found in the antique store, painted it in white, and set four cake plates on top, each with a different spring cake.

  “Are you okay?” Charlotte stuck her head out of the kitchen. “I heard Bitsy carrying on out here. Was she giving you some grief?”

  “I’m good.” I released a happy sigh. “No, I’m great. Let’s get this all finished up before we run out of time.”

  As we headed back to the kitchen, the front bell dinged again.

  “Mother, I’m busy.” I twirled around on the ball of my foot, expecting to see Bitsy standing there to tell me one more thing she’d forgotten, but it wasn’t her. A very chic blonde, who was obviously an out-of-towner, was standing in the door, carrying a very expensive handbag. Like the one I had wanted when I lived in the city.

  “Oh.” I was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry, but we are closed until Monday. We aren’t open on Sundays.”

  “Not even for catered orders?” The lady didn’t look like she was going to take no for an answer, as she stepped right up to the counter in her black sky-high heels and very stylish blue cotton-sheeting jumpsuit. Her hair, though I could tell it was dyed, was the perfect shade of blonde, with the right number of highlights that no hairdresser around here could do. In fact, I only knew of one whose work was this perfect, and that was when I lived in Manhattan.

  “I heard this was the absolute best place to come for some fabulous pies and cakes.” She snapped her purse open and took out a business card.

  “Seeing as how your only other option is the grocery store, I’m going to have to agree with whoever told you that,” I said.

  “And she’s being too modest,” Charlotte chimed in, “For Goodness Cakes is the best Southern bakery in all of Kentucky.” Charlotte was a little too overprotective. “If you don’t believe me, you can walk right on out that door and see for yourself.”

  “Thanks, Charlotte,” I said through my teeth like a ventriloquist, smiling. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Charlotte moved her head slightly to the right to see the woman over my shoulder before she focused back on me. I waited until she went back into the kitchen before I turned again to the woman.

  “I’m sorry. We’ve got a big event,” I started yammering, and once I get started it’s hard for me to stop. “I mean, biggest we’ve ever done, and we keep getting interrupted. What is it I can do for you?”

  “If you’re the best in all of Kentucky, then you must cater my lunch event on Monday. I’m the president of the National Wine Tasters of America, and we’re holding our annual shareholders’ meeting at the Grape Valley Winery in a couple of days. I know it seems like short notice, but this is how I operate every year. I come into town and pick the best place for dessert, even though we’ve already got a food caterer. It’s hard to get the caterers to realize I don’t want their desserts, just the food.” She swept her hand with the business card up in the air and held it out to me. Even her manicure was perfect. “Lanie Truvinski.”

  “You’re going to love the winery. In fact, that’s the big catering gig I’ve got tonight.” I pointed to the flyer on the door. “The Heart of the Town fund-raiser. It’s going toward the new addition to our library.” I had high expectations of this event since the socialites were going to be there, and they loved to host parties, which meant referrals for me. “You should come. The more, the merrier.” I stuck her card next to the register.

  “Then you have to take my job. I’ll pay you double your going rate.” She ignored my invite and gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. It was money I needed to help pay off the debt from the updates to Ford’s Bakery. “Besides, I’m getting a great deal on the place from Ray Peel. A longtime friend.”

  “Deal.” Even though her event was a day away. “I only make pies and cakes for the season. For the spring I have some wonderful crumble cakes and Sunshine Lemon Pie. Every day I serve donuts, cookies, and other usual pastries.”

  Not that she was looking for everyday treats/pastries/sweet. There I went again, yammering on.

  “What is the light pink one in the front window with the cute macarons on top?” She pointed over her shoulder.

  “That’s Macaron Delight. A delicious three-layer cake. Fluffy chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry layers with some buttercream and strawberry jam filling.” A very satisfied sigh escaped me. “I love using jams this time of the year from our local farmers’ market. I try to use all ingredients made locally.”

  “I definitely want one of those. How do you think it’d pair with wine?” she asked.

  “I’d pair it with a nice Moscato.” I nodded with confidence. “It works well with strawberry.”

  “I’m going to have to agree with your employee. You do know what you’re talking about.” She plunked her purse on the counter and pulled
out a wad of cash. “You are worth your weight in gold. How much?”

  A few decisions later, Lanie Truvinski was walking out the door a very happy customer.

  “Not too shabby for a day we aren’t open,” I said after I told Charlotte about the whole Lanie Truvinski conversation. “She said she got a great deal from Ray Peel to hold her convention there.”

  “Maybe there’ll be more events held at Grape Valley, since wineries are becoming so popular in Kentucky.” Charlotte stood next to me, and we watched Lanie get into her fancy silver car.

  “Let’s hope so.” I turned and smiled at her. “It’s proving to be good for business. But I thought Ray Peel only owned the land the winery was on, not the actual winery.”

  “Who cares?” Charlotte pulled the Heart of Rumford pastries out of the oven. “As long as we are getting paid, I don’t care who owns what.”

  Chapter Two

  “This is much better than the little Corolla.” Madison Ridge greeted me at the Grape Valley Winery’s barn they’d converted into the offices.

  Charlotte, Madison, and I were always together as children, and as adults it wasn’t any different.

  “There was no way I could carry all my catered items in that little four-door.” I patted the old RV that Poochie Honeycutt had found for me from the only used car lot in Rumford. “This way I can take the items straight from the oven and put them on the baking racks inside the bakery bus.”

  “Bakery bus?” Madison laughed and shook her head.

  “Yes. And the passenger side opens up like a food truck, so I can take it to children’s events or even business events that are set up outside.” It really was a neat vehicle, and I was pretty pleased how it had turned out; another expense I was going to help pay off. “But I still have the Corolla for personal use.”

  When I’d moved back to Rumford, I’d had to use Bitsy’s car, but rather quickly realized I needed my own. Poochie also owned the gas station in town. He’d been so nice helping me get a car, I gave him free pastries for life—and he did come in on a regular basis for a sweet treat.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Madison, trying not to lose focus from the amazing landscape.

  The vineyard was nestled to the right of the offices and appeared to be rolling for miles along the nooks and crannies of the holler. The grapes were round and fat. They’d be perfect for picking in a few months.

  “I’m here to see Ray Peel.” Her brows drew up. Ray was a very wealthy bachelor in Rumford who had been a couple of years ahead of Madison and me in school

  “Seems like a lot of people are looking for Ray Peel.” I laughed. “I heard he’s giving Friends of the Library half a mil. That’s all they need to pay off the new renovation.” It was gossip and I probably shouldn’t’ve said anything, but it was juicy gossip. Not many people around these parts saw half a million dollars, much less gave it away.

  Madison’s gaze narrowed.

  “And his generosity doesn’t stop there.” I was talking to my best friend, so it just felt like girl talk. “He donated the use of the winery to the National Wine Tasters of America convention that’s here in a couple of days. The president of the convention paid me rather nicely to make some desserts.”

  “That’s odd. He’s thinking about selling the land.” Slowly she nodded when she saw my shocked reaction.

  “This land?”

  “Yes.” She leaned in. “But it’s hush-hush. He’s getting an estimate from me on what I could list it for.” She rubbed her fingers and thumb together in a big-payday gesture. “It would really help me out with getting that new car. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn working on numbers and crunching comps to see what we can ask for it.”

  “What about the winery?” I asked. A knot formed in my gut. I should’ve gotten my check for this event up front. “Is it going to stay?”

  “I have no idea. I’m assuming the Dugans will still lease the land from the new owners.” She shrugged.

  Her words made me feel somewhat better, but still something just felt off. First off, I’d never known Ray Peel to give anything to anyone. That’s how he’d gotten to be a millionaire. He’d been a shrewd businessman and taken after his own father. One standout memory I had that probably shaped my image of Ray was a story I’d overheard Bitsy and my dad talking about when I was a little girl. Dad mentioned how Ray’s mama had left a note on the kitchen table to Ray’s dad telling him she was leaving. They never heard hide nor hair from her afterward. Ray’s dad died right after Ray got out of high school, and it was then Ray had taken over his dad’s properties. After that I lost track of him and hadn’t kept up with him the last ten years.

  The office door opened, catching our attention.

  “Shh.” Madison flipped around, her eyes big. “Don’t say anything.”

  She turned back to face the doors with a big smile on her face and a different tone in her voice.

  “Ray.” Madison rushed forward with her hand stuck out for him to shake. “I’m thrilled you’ve given me this time to talk to you.”

  “Madison,” Ray said, nodding. “I expected to see you here, but not little Sophia Cummings.” He strolled over to us. “I’ve got to get down to your new bakery. It’s been the talk of the town. Plus, your Cherry Flip-Flops are delicious.”

  He stood six feet tall with a hint of gray in his coal-black hair. He had a slim, muscular build and nicely rounded biceps snuck out from under the short-sleeved shirt. You could tell he was a man who took very good care of himself.

  “Oh,” I said, smiling. “You’ve eaten my Flip-Flops?”

  “Reba Gunther brought me some today and they were divine. Better than the ones you can get at fast-food restaurants.” He rocked back on his heels.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but I decided to roll with it.

  “You’ll get to sample some more at the fund-raiser,” I said. “Which reminds me, I need to get in there and see Reba about my set up.” I smiled at them. Really, I wanted to get in there and see her about my payment. I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d given Ray the Flip-Flops when she said they were for Giles Dugan in the morning.

  I reached in the van and took out a box I’d filled with some of my original peanut butter and jam sandwiches. It wasn’t enough for me to spread locally made strawberry jam between two homemade peanut butter cookies; it was the buttercream mixed in with the strawberry jam that made this sweet treat a customer favorite.

  * * *

  I could’ve made more small talk, but I could tell Madison was really excited about the possible listing for her real estate office. She’d been waiting to bag a big fish so she could get a new car. She was hauling her two little kids all over Rumford in her parents’ old wood-paneled station wagon.

  “I’ve been thinking about your property,” Madison tucked her hand in the crook of Ray’s arm and led him off in the direction of the vines.

  I headed on into the converted barn. The dirt floor had long been replaced by hardwood, and the haylofts had been taken out, making way for some industrial lighting. They’d kept the big open area in the front and built two offices in the back: one for Ray and the other for Giles. Made sense for Giles to have one since he did lease and harvest the vineyard.

  Reba’s desk was the first big desk in the middle as soon as you came in the door. Beyond her there were a couple of desks on each side. Tammy Dugan’s name was printed on the wooden nameplate on one. Tammy was Giles’s daughter, and word around town was she was really the one running the winery and was the money behind it.

  “Do not tell me those are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” Reba’s eyes light up.

  Perry Dugan had contacted me about doing a special birthday cake for her, which was the only reason I knew her age. He asked me to keep it hush-hush because it was a surprise. Perry had made an appointment for later in the week to come pick something out.

  “Okay.” I ho-hummed. “I’ll go put them back in the van.”

&nb
sp; “Don’t you dare,” she gasped with a big grin and outstretched arms, fingers doing the gimme here.

  “I don’t know. You didn’t seem like you wanted them,” I teased, and I handed her the box before she could pounce on me.

  “Seriously, Dad.” Giles Dugan and Tammy walked in the front door. They hurried past Reba and me.

  When Giles Dugan looked at me, I said, “I’m glad you enjoyed the Cherry Flip-Flops. I’ll be sure to bring some out again.”

  “Cherry what?” He looked at me.

  “The pastries from Sophia’s new bakery.” Reba bit her lip nervously.

  “Oh, yeah.” He nodded, but I could tell by the blank look on his face that he had no clue what Reba was talking about.

  It was odd, to say the least, but I wasn’t going to waste any time on trying to figure out what Reba Gunther had going on. I just wanted to get paid, since I hadn’t had them make a deposit. Lesson learned. Tammy didn’t even notice me standing there.

  “You can’t just lie down and not fight Ray on this. This is not right. This will impact not only the rest of your life and retirement, but mine and your grandchild’s future. Paul is planning on going Ivy League, and if I’d known I was going to be out of a job, I’d have been saving for it. Are you going to tell him that he can’t go because you couldn’t stand up to Ray Peel? Well, by gosh, I will stand up to the jerk.” Tammy continued to talk into her father’s ear as they walked to the back of the building and into the office.

  “I’m going to eat all of these before the day’s over.” Reba took a bite and nervously chewed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Giles just doesn’t remember all the food he’s had today. He really wants to make a good impression on the community with the fund-raiser since it’s the first one they’ve hosted for the town,” Reba said.

  “I’m glad he likes the Flip-Flops,” I said, knowing she hadn’t even given them to him and had lied to me. “What’s Tammy talking about? Why would she be out of a job?”