by Maymee Bell
It was warm and welcoming. The way she’d treated people was a part of the bakery experience I remembered and how I wanted my customers to feel when they came into For Goodness Cakes.
“Hi.” It was as though my mouth had dried and my mind went blank. “This shed.” It was all I could say, especially when I took one more step toward the shed, and there was a red spray paint can propped up against the crumbling wall.
“It’s a disaster. The bricks are falling off the backside, and we’re trying to figure out if we want to just tear it down and build a new one or build onto it.” She stuck her hoe in the ground and pulled off the green gardening gloves. “Are you still just as delighted as the day you signed the papers to buy the building?”
Sally Ann walked up, still eating the cookies.
“Yes.” I shook my head in confusion. “But I’m not clear on why you wanted to sell.”
“We retired.” She slowly walked out of the garden.
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and clicked through the messages to find the one that Carter had attached—the photo of the brick someone had thrown through the bakery window.
“Do you mind looking at this photo on my phone?” I held the photo out to her. “That’s the brick that was thrown through the bakery window. There was a clear warning for me written in red spray paint.”
“Are you saying that the brick in this photo is from my shed?” Dixie’s brows furrowed.
“Yes. I am. If you didn’t want me to open the bakery, why did you sell it to me?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sophia.” Dixie was playing the good part about being confused.
“I’m sure Sheriff Kincaid can clear this up for us real quick.” I hated to call him, but I could make out neither hide nor hair of what was going on, and if I had to get him out here to make her talk, then I would.
“Stop!” Sally Ann appeared in the back yard. “Don’t call the law. Granny Dixie didn’t do it. I did.”
Dixie and I both looked at the girl. Her bottom lip started to quiver.
“I …” Her chest heaved up and down.
“What did you do?” Dixie gasped.
“I love your bakery and when this girl called and said she had your journal, I couldn’t even think about letting her take away my only good memories of my mama and me.” The girl started to cry. “Mama and I used to make the Long Johns that you want the recipe to, and if you take that memory away from me, then I’ve got nothing.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Dixie hurried over to her granddaughter and curled her into her arms. “Honey, Sophia has the talent to make the Long Johns, and everyone in Rumford will be able to remember all the good memories when they bite down. She can’t steal your memories. Your memories are in your head. No one can take those. Or how those make you feel in your heart.”
“It wasn’t the only thing I did.” She looked up. “I broke into your house. I was looking for the journal, but I couldn’t find it.”
“You broke into my house?” I didn’t know whether to hug and thank her or cry because I’d thought it was the killer who had broken in and thrown the brick through the bakery window.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were such a nice lady.” Her fingers fidgeted. “I’m more than happy to come clean up the damage.”
“Clean it up?” Dixie’s eyes widened. “How’re you gonna pay for it?”
My heart hurt for Sally Ann. “ “Mrs. Ford, I know what Sally Ann did wasn’t right, but I do think it came from a good heart. I’m sure we can work something out. I’ve already put my house back together. And the front window of the bakery was replaced. It’s all good now. I’m just glad I know who did it.” I gave Sally Ann a weak smile, and I saw the relief settle on her face. “I thought someone really wanted to hurt me.”
“I’d never do that. And,” Sally Ann said, shrugging, “your cookies are pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” Dixie asked her granddaughter.
“Darn good.” Sally Ann smiled as big as the sun that was hanging over our heads. “I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I caused. I’ll do anything to make it up.”
“Well, Sophia is going to come up with some sort of payment plan, and you’re going to make good,” Dixie warned the girl.
“Yes, ma’am. I will.” She held up the Scout’s honor gesture in the air. “I promise.”
“Now, go on and get in the house. I’ll deal with you in my own way.” Dixie pointed toward the house. Sally Ann wasted no time in taking off in that direction. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. I really am glad that it wasn’t Ray Peel’s killer who did it. That’s one thing off my mind.” I gnawed on my lip and wondered just how off base I was about Ray’s murderer.
“I heard about that. Shame someone would go to such great lengths to hurt someone.” She looked off into the distance. “Patsy, my girl. She doesn’t mean to hurt Sally Ann, but she does. Floats in and out of that girl’s life like a feather. Her doing all them bad things to you is partially my fault.”
“No, it’s not. You’re doing a fine job with her.” I guessed the rumors I’d heard were true. The Fords were raising Sally Ann.
“Mm-hm,” she hummed. “I spent so many years with Patsy in the bakery kitchen, and with Sally Ann in the high chair, telling them that it was going to be theirs one day. I’d tell Sally Ann she was going to grow up and bake just like me and take over. Little did I realize Patsy wanted nothing to do with the bakery and blamed all her issues on me spending dusk to dawn there.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” I reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s simply not true. Your baking brought so many good memories to Rumford. You were a big reason I decided to be a baker. When I came into the bakery, it wasn’t just about the delicious smells or the perfect combination of your pastries; it was the kind words and warm smile that you gave me that sealed the entire experience.”
“You are too kind. I truly loved being a baker, but maybe I can be here for Sally Ann like I wasn’t for her mother.” She squeezed my hand before she let go. “Come on in the house and I’ll get us a glass of sweet iced tea while I go over the recipe with you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to save that for Sally Ann?” I offered, knowing how important it was to her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I gave Patsy everything, and I’m not going to do this with Sally Ann while she’s under my roof. She needs love and guidance, not someone in the kitchen all day.” Dixie’s words sounded sweet, but I wasn’t sure if she realized just how strong-headed that little girl was.
Regardless, I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t sure what I’d do, but in some way I’d give some honor to the Long Johns to Sally Ann’s fond memories.
“So, you’re telling me that it’s the added salt to the maple icing that’s the special ingredient?” I sat dumbfounded at their round and wobbly kitchen table as I looked at the piece of paper with her recipe in my hand. “Knock me over with a feather,” I muttered. “Brilliant.”
“This old bird had a few secrets up her sleeve that no big city or fancy pastry school can teach.” She placed a glass of sweet tea in front of me. “Adding the salt to the frosting enhances the maple flavor and takes out that too-sweet just a bit. And when you mix up your dough, I suggest you whisk the cinnamon into the flour instead of the milk. Then add that mix to your yeast mix.” She laughed. “It took me years to figure out why some of my Long Johns were lumpy and some weren’t. It was that cinnamon added to the milk.” She tapped the recipe paper. “This is damn-near perfect.”
“I’d never even thought about adding salt,” I admitted. I couldn’t wait to get back to the bakery and start making a batch.
“I’m thrilled to have helped.” She sat down and took a drink of her tea. “Now, what do you have in mind for that granddaughter of mine?”
“I might have a few things in mind.” I polished off my glass of tea. “Can I get back to you about it?”
“You sure can, honey.” The smile faltered. “You aren’t leaving, are you?” she asked when I got up.
“I’ve got to go. But can I ask you a favor?” I asked. “I’d love it if you’d come down to the bakery and taste my treats. If something is missing or you think I could make it better, I’d love your advice.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I’d never let another baker in my kitchen.”
“I’m more than positive. You have some pretty big shoes that Rumford is expecting me to fill. That’s a lot of stress.” I tensed my jaw.
“I’d be more than delighted. Though I doubt I can help.” She and I gave each other a quick hug.
I didn’t bother telling Sally Ann goodbye. I could only imagine what Dixie was saying to the poor girl. I knew what she’d done wasn’t the right way to go about things, but I empathized with the girl.
When I got into the car, I carefully laid the recipe in the passenger seat next to me. It was more precious than gold. I dragged my phone out and scrolled through the contacts.
“Is this a real phone call?” Bitsy answered teasingly.
“It is.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling or tearing up. “I know I don’t tell you this a lot, Mom,”—it was a rare occasion that I called her mom—“but I love you so much. Thank you for the amazing lifestyle you gave me as a child. I’m truly grateful.”
“Are you drinking?” Bitsy asked on the other end of the phone, with a little skepticism in her voice.
“No.” I sighed. “I’m on my way to the meeting.”
I couldn’t help but smile on my way to the Garden Club Meeting, but first I stopped by the bakery to pick up the Cherry Flip-Flops and tell Charlotte that all the people on our suspect list pretty much had alibis. We were back to square one.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Garden Club was in the meeting room in the back of the library. The new addition was really coming along, and it appeared the finishing touches were being set.
“Hi, Cat.” I stopped by the reference desk. It was the first time I’d talked to her since I stood in this very spot accusing her of killing Ray Peel. “Any news with the bank?”
“No.” She turned away from the filing cabinet and looked back at me. Her eyes dipped down on the edges. “We’ll make it through. I’ve been taking a lot of photos of my parents’ antiques and stuff to put on Craigslist. I know we aren’t going to be able to recoup the half a million their property is worth, but it’s a start to something.”
“I’m really sorry.” I looked toward the conference room when I heard some clapping. “I’ve got to get these into the Garden Club meeting.” I lifted the lid. “Would you like one?”
“Are those Cherry Flip-Flops?” she asked.
“Yes. And I know how much you love them.” I set the container on the counter of the reference desk and took out a couple of Flip-Flops. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll see you in the meeting.” Cat returned to the filing cabinet.
Snapping the lid back on the pastry box, I walked through the library and slipped into the conference room. Bitsy had just taken the microphone at the front of the room. The applause I’d heard must’ve been the Garden Club president introducing her.
Her eyes met mine, and then she looked at the front row, where Clarice Covington was sitting. I was thrilled Bitsy had decided to do the right thing and tell the Garden Club what she’d been up to.
In true Bitsy style, she put her own spin on it.
I tried not to burst out in laughter as I listened while I placed the Flip-Flops on the table in the back.
“I’ve always admired the beautiful flowers in nature. As you know, my daughter, Sophia Cummings,” she said, drawing the attention to me as I waved, “was not into nature or flowers. We’d spend all of our mother and daughter time in the kitchen.” I had to face the wall, so they wouldn’t see my reaction to her lie. But she was going to save face as much as possible, and I was going to let her. “As most of you know, I hired a landscape architect to design my garden. When I decided to do the Garden Club’s annual plant swap, I wanted to feature a Rumford treasure that’s sorely overlooked. Clarice Covington is an amazing gardener, and her bed and breakfast is picture perfect. In light of all the bad publicity with the library, Clarice would like to host the flower swap event at the bed and breakfast.” Bitsy started to clap.
“What do you mean ‘in light of the bad publicity’?” Cat Fraxman asked. She had slipped in behind me and was standing in the back of the room. “If you take the plant swap away from the library, that’ll be the first of many organizations that will follow your lead. Then my parents will have gone bankrupt for nothing!” She rushed out the door and slammed it shut behind her.
There was a collective gasp. It was the first time Cat had made it public that her parents had put up the loan.
“That’s a showstopper,” Lizbeth muttered next to me. “I got it all on camera too.” She patted the Canon hanging around her neck.
“I feel so bad for her.”
“It looks like she’d have good motive to kill Ray Peel too.” Lizbeth started writing in her notebook. “Anything new with that? Or anything you want to tell me about the investigation of your house and now your bakery?”
“We were all wrong. Or should I say that you were wrong about someone sending me a very clear message?” I asked.
“Really?” She stopped writing and took a sudden interest in me. “I’m the first one to admit when I’m wrong, if it’s going to give me a good scoop.”
“This isn’t going to be on the record,” I warned.
“That’s not fair.” Her nose turned up.
“It is when it involves a minor and I’m not pressing charges.” It was as simple as that.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and stuck her notepad in the fanny pack she wore around her waist. “Off the record.”
“It’s no secret that Dixie Ford made the best Maple Long Johns. I found their recipe journal in the office when I bought the building. The recipe was in there, but it wasn’t special.” My brows furrowed.
“What do you mean by ‘special’?” she asked.
“As a baker, I knew there was something different in her Long Johns. I spent countless hours trying to perfect them, and when I found the recipe, there wasn’t anything unusual about it, but I didn’t feel right using her recipe.” I shrugged. “I called her and left a message with Patsy’s daughter, Sally Ann, for them to call, and I even said that I found the recipe journal and wanted to make some of them, with her permission.”
“If they left it, then isn’t it fair game?” Lizbeth scooted closer. All the Garden Club women were gathering around the food and chattering.
“Technically, but not morally. Anyway,” I said, taking a step back, “Sally Ann has very fond family memories about the time she spent in the kitchen, and felt that if I started to make their recipes, I’d take away her memories.”
“So, the granddaughter did it?” Lizbeth’s mouth dropped.
“Yeah. She broke into my house to try and find the recipe journal. When she didn’t find that, she didn’t want to ruin anything in the bakery because it was originally her family’s, and to see it destroyed would hurt them.” My eyes glanced over Lizbeth’s right shoulder when Reba Gunther walked up to the food table. “I’m going to have her come do some things at the bakery. The good news is that I got the real recipe, and Dixie Ford is a genius.”
“Are you giving me the scoop that you’re going to be making and selling Fords’ Maple Long Johns?” Lizbeth asked eagerly.
“You’ll see.” My brows rose, and I walked around Lizbeth to get to Reba.
She and Priscilla Cartwright had their heads stuck together and were in deep conversation, whispering about something.
“Hello, ladies.” I didn’t mind interrupting them. “Priscilla, I’ve been meaning to get over to the Back-en-Thyme. I’m doing a cake for a bridal shower, and I’d like to order some flowers for the bou
quet that I’m placing on top of the cake. As a matter of fact, I’ve given the bride your business card because she doesn’t have a florist.”
“No florist and she’s already having her shower?” Priscilla gave me a funny look.
“Her cousin was doing the flowers, and you know how that can go.” The three of us nodded. We all knew how sticky those situations could get.
“I’ll get her your information, and we can come up with something. I’ll stop by the bakery,” she said before excusing herself.
“I didn’t know you and Priscilla were good friends,” I said to Reba.
“She’s been so kind over the past year.” Reba’s voice was low, to the point where I had to lean in to hear her. “Back-en-Thyme does all the flowers for the winery. “Most of the time when she comes in, I’m there alone.”
“That’s nice that the two of you have gotten to know each other.” I wanted to ask her about her birthday cake, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, so I kept my lips tight.
She gave me a pinched smile.
“I guess it’s no secret to you that Carter has pulled Perry down to the station for questioning.” A sadness hung in Reba’s eyes.
“No. I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.” I wasn’t about to tell her that I’d been snooping and found the reason for Carter to haul Perry to the station.
“I’m afraid it’s all because of me.” Her voice trailed off. “I probably shouldn’t dump all my problems on you, but you’ve always been so kind.”
I reached behind her for the last Flip-Flop on the tray.
“Here, you need this.” I offered it to her.
“Yeah.” She took it and closed her eyes after the first bite. “Everything you bake is amazing. It always makes me feel so much better.”
“I use a dash of hugs.” I winked, laughed, and reached out to touch her arm. “Why do you think that Perry talking to Carter is your problem?”
“Perry is the Grape Valley Winery lawyer. He does it all for free for his father and sister. He’s so kind.” Her tone sounded like her feelings for him were more than platonic. “There’s a clause in the contract that states employees can’t date.”